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sententiaTitle: End Of The World, Chapter 12
Author(s): Sententia
Artist(s): dragon_gypsy
Fandom(s): Switch
Type: (Gen, Het, Femmeslash or Slash) Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 34,000.
Characters/Pairings: Takei and Shiba.
Warnings/Spoilers: For the entire series and the official '5 years later' doujinshi done by Naked Ape.
Summary: It was the end of the world as Takei knew it, and he was feeling ... wait, how did the rest of the song go again? Takei returns to work after Shingo's betrayal, only to be hit be a far greater one. Both Shiba and Takei struggle with the consequences.
Author’s Notes: This is the longest thing I've written, and it really shows. When I planned it out it was only supposed to be 10,000 words (which is still huge for me), but it blossomed into something much longer. It's been a great growing process, and if I were to redo the story again with everything I'd learnt, it would probably be a completely different fic.
Chapter 12: Towards an ending, undecided.
Ok. So. Best laid plans.
The gun swung down hard, cracking against the base of Takei’s skull.
Attatttattaa-ouch!
His teeth sang up through his ears, and cracks of pain splintered through his skull in rip-roaring flows of lava. He slumped forward awkwardly, caught by the ropes that keep him tied to the chair. Still the sense of motion didn’t quite end, and Takei felt like he was bobbing for apples.
“You do know you’re supposed to use the other end, right?” Takei said brightly once the stars stopped sparking in his eyes. “I think this is the first time I’ve met a dyslexic gunslinger.”
It was so cliché that Takei could practically hear the underlying, throbbing soundtrack. Something dark and low, thump-da-thump-da-thumping at an almost non-existent decibel that you felt rather than heard.
Either that, or something by Arc L’Ciel. Takei wasn’t fussy.
The ropes that crisscrossed across his chest and around the back of the chair were old and rough. This was, Takei thought, a stylistic choice. There was something about the way the frayed edges burned through his shirt and bit into his already raw skin that just screamed of someone getting a whole lot of pleasure out of this.
Unsurprisingly, that person was not Takei. He breathed in, and regretted it. The hundreds of little teeth that formed the surface of the rope introduced themselves further to his skin, and he bit back a curse. He breathed out, and regretted it. Unfortunately, the alternative wasn’t particularly alluring. Sure, passing out was a good way to escape the nasty bruises on his back, the headache that wasn’t going anywhere fast, and the stupid lash marks from the ropes. However, unconsciousness also meant that Shiba would have to carry him out once he turned up, and Takei didn’t think he could live with that. Knowing his luck, there would be pictures.
And Shiba would be here, that bastard. Eventually.
Takei didn’t remember signing up for this half-arsed torture play. Proper interrogation required the right balance of mind games and the threat of violence to unhinge the target. Anticipation and a crawling sense of fear of what might happen was much more destructive than violence inflicted on its own. Instead, Takei was dramatically seated in the middle of a warehouse, a table laden with all sorts of exciting things in front of him. More interesting (at least to Takei) were the boxes that lined the walls, each marked inconspicuously with smiling teddy bears with hearts on their foreheads. It explained how they had been able to smuggle in the components required for the deadly cocktail of drugs.
His ribs were bruised and battered, and there was a thin stream of blood running down the back of his neck. Takei was pretty damn sure that there were bruises marring his forehead, and if there had been any permanent damage done to his face he was going to make someone pay.
And Shiba would be here, hopefully sometime before these stupid ropes sawed him in half.
Takei was getting a bit impatient. Torture-play was boring.
“Did you guys ever consider chains?” Takei quipped, keeping his breaths as shallow as possible. “I hear all the modern crims are using them these days. More circulation retention, less rope burn.”
They were killing time, which was great. So was Takei.
“Do I look like I care about your personal well-being?” Tanaka taunted, all ice.
Takei tipped his head thoughtfully to the side. “Well...”
The slap was expected, but it did little to compensate the ringing through his ears.
“And now,” Tanaka said triumphantly, as though he had won a sparkly new prize, “you are going to tell me everything.”
“Seriously?” Takei asked dubiously, his eyebrows shooting up. “Man. You really haven’t done your homework if you think this is enough to make me talk.” He was really going to have to work on his reputation when this was all over.
“Oh, I know enough.” The shark smile hovered right in front of Takei’s face before fading backwards. Takei stiffened at the tone, cursing when it only gave the ropes more exposure. “You didn’t seriously think you could successfully infiltrate my empire when you couldn’t figure out your own partners were working for your enemy?” Takei flinched, and this time there was nothing voluntary or deliberate in the movement, just a reflexive and pathetic attempt at self defence. Tanaka’s smile deepened. “Oh, yes. I know everything. That blond one – Shingo, wasn’t it? – he was your first ever partner. I’m sure he taught you everything you know.” The unspoken statement lingered in the air between them, and something coiled so tightly in Takei that he had to fight back every instinct to snap. “I heard he really enjoyed blowing you up.” Tanaka brought the gun to Takei’s chest and ran the barrel down through the tears in Takei’s shirt. Up and over the ropes Tanaka trailed the gun, mockingly tracing the faded scars that sat beneath them.
Ok. So this was how you properly employed psychological warfare.
Takei’s eyes snapped shut. Time to keep focussed.
The cold of the gun felt sterile, mechanical. The hatred that remained for Shingo tasted the same. Bitter and quiet, but like steel.
“And then there’s that other partner of yours, the one who saw the torn, ripped remains of your body and found inspiration.” The words were breathed against Takei’s cheek like a twisted caress. “What was the final clincher for him, did you think?” Tanaka asked. “The bloody mess that passed as your chest, or how you resembled a corpse as they rushed you off to the operating theatre?”
And this pain was always different, echoing deep and six feet under, where no-one else could reach. It ignited something raw and savage that flamed through Takei and left behind nothing but ashes. He tried to close the door again, but wrenched it off its hinges instead. He was losing control, his precious, protective control-
“Now, tell me everything that your department knows about my little organisation.” Tanaka laughed, low and deliberate. “You know you’re going to, anyway.”
It was the wrong thing to say, because nothing grounded Takei more quickly than reminding him that he existed outside of Shiba, outside of Shingo.
It was dangerous to underestimate Takei, because sometimes the scars that left you breathless also fired your soul.
His eyes flickered opened, a smirk twisted at the corner of his mouth.
“You lose,” Takei said, and there was enough in his eyes to force Tanaka to take a step back. Hesitation creased Tanaka’s forehead before being driven away by a madness-tinged anger. He raised the gun again, the barrel shaking slightly, uncontrolled.
“You little shit-“
The sounds of bullets trumpeted through the warehouse, echoing like thunder and exploding the air with noise. Tanaka swore as he dropped down into a crouch behind Takei’s chair. Takei’s heart caught in his throat as he did a useless chair dance to try and minimise his own target potential.
“Huh, turns out that not all my partners are as pathetic as you thought,” Takei grinned down at Tanaka. Tanaka’s own men were returning fire, but Takei’s visibility was next to useless from this angle. There was too much endless noise to try and figure out where it was coming from. Common sense suggested there were numerous entrance points for his backup, although common sense had this unfortunate habit of letting him down recently.
Just as long as no-one shot him, Takei didn’t care either way.
As the gunfire continued, Tanaka made up his mind. He scuttled upwards; flipping opened a small knife and hacking at the ropes.
“You’re coming with me,” Tanaka growled, dragging Takei up from the chair. The ropes fell as he rose, and Takei hissed as the tears were exposed to the biting air. Tanaka kicked over the metal table as he scrambled them both backwards, and Takei fought to keep his balance.
“I don’t think so,” a voice said jovially from behind them. Tanaka spun them around, almost knocking Takei from his feet as he brought his gun up and pressed it against Takei’s head.
Shiba stood there, gun raised. His hair was a mess and he looked like he had gotten dressed in the dark (a very plausible possibility since Shiba seemed to think things like power bills were voluntary), but there was an edge to his smile that threatened to tear Tanaka from limb to limb. Possibly with his teeth. Passion and anger and something darker, more heady blazed through his eyes, and his gaze never wavered from Takei.
Takei felt like he was being swallowed whole, it was a surprisingly awesome feeling. He had no idea what Jonah had been so pissed about.
“I brought you that shirt,” Shiba said with reproach, like it was Takei’s fault that it was mainly in shreds.
“Think you’ll be able to do a swap and change?” Takei asked. “Maybe for a colour that isn’t quite so garish?” Any further retorts were cut off as Tanaka wrapped an arm around Takei’s throat, drawing him roughly back against his chest. Takei felt Tanaka’s heavy, uneven breaths against the back of his neck and tickling through his hair. He stilled completely as Tanaka’s tension tightened through the muscles pressed up against his windpipe, cutting off some of his precious air.
“No more chit-chat,” Tanaka demanded, his voice rough and tight. He wrenched Takei backwards, and for a moment Takei was lifted up off his feet, choking around Tanaka’s death grip.
“Don’t move,” Shiba replied, lifting the gun and zeroing it in on them both.
Takei shot him a disbelieving glare. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” He forced out. Yeah. Maybe he’d just turn into a phoenix and fly out of here. That was what Shiba was expecting, right? “Besides, I’ve changed my mind.” Takei smiled winningly. “You could leave now; I’m pretty comfortable as is.”
“What the hell are you playing at?” Tanata hissed against Takei’s ear. Shiba looks on, unconcerned.
Takei shrugged, or at least as much as he dared to.
“You made a pretty convincing argument earlier. My partner over there is a bit of a bastard. I’m not entirely sure I want to be saved by him, after all.”
“What?” The arm around his neck tightened, but the barrel of the gun started to tremor just slightly with uncertainty.
“Hey, no problem,” Shiba retorted, lazily tipping the gun sideways. He could barely be bothered to keep it raised. “Only fair that you want to get yourself out of this mess since you got yourself into it in the first place. Maybe you are better suited to working on your own; it would probably be safer for your partners.”
Takei’s eyebrows dropped and his eyes narrowed into slits. Yeah, Shiba realised just a moment too late that his comment went a little too far, although his ‘partner’ did a good job in masking his mistake. The cold comment had the desired affect on at least one of them. The arm around Takei’s neck slipped sidewise, the elbow no longer locked against his windpipe but loosely pressed against his collarbone.
Tanaka wasn’t keeping up. Good.
“Yeah, well I’m pretty used to getting out of the messes you’ve landed me in.” Snide, and maybe a little bit too much on point, but Takei thought a little return fire was only fair. “In fact...”
The barrel pressed closer on reflex, and then rebounded aw-
THERE.
Takei dropped down the moment Shiba fired. He felt the whiz of the bullet through his hair as he fell into a rough crouch. He grunted as the wounds across his chest dragged open and his head pounded like a banshee that had just taken up drumming as a side act. Still, Takei was pretty damn used to operating in less-than-perfect situations, and so while his roll wasn’t likely to garner him a place in the Olympic squad, it had just enough oomph to push him past the falling body behind him and – more importantly – behind the turned over table.
The explosion of gunfire that rattled through the warehouse sounded like a barrage of rain, but the sparks that erupted as each hit against metal posts or rigging were far less forgiving. Takei yelped as a couple flashed too close, burying his head in his arms and curling down on himself. Oh, man. Shoot outs always had this way of lasting way, way too long. Statistically, Takei wasn’t even sure how they could last as long as they did, because you had to run out of bullets at some point, right?
“Having fun yet?” Shiba said as he vaulted over the top of the upturned table and landed beside Takei with a thump. Takei shot him a wide grin, taking the gun that was offered to him with a calculating gaze. It was a little too heavy, but that was how Shiba had always liked them. He cocked it, raising it up parallel to his head as he took in a couple of steadying breaths.
Which. Yeah. Maybe not such a good idea. Shiba winced sympathetically, his gaze sweeping down Takei’s screwed up torso before ending back up at the nasty bruise that Takei just knew was ruining his devastatingly good looks.
“I blame you,” Takei said pointedly. Shiba nodded.
“Noted.”
Takei closed his eyes and listened, allowing the ratatatat of shooting to play out a pattern. Three on their far left, friendly fire. Two at least up in the overhang somewhere, but with a surprisingly short shooting radius (must be impaired by something bulky, likely one on the main, steel pillars that swept all the way to the roof). One with a delay followed by rapid shooting, so probably shooting around a corner-
A loud boom turned all the air in the warehouse into a wall of noise and heat that was hot and thick, wet with chemicals. Takei coughed into his fist. He wiped the back of his palm roughly across his eyes, his pulse racing.
“And that’s why you don’t play Cowboy and Indians around chemical solutions,” Shiba said with a sad shake of his head, although urgency flickered in his eyes, the brown of his iris spiked through with the shiny, reflective red of the explosion. “We don’t have much time.”
Takei snorted, dipping around the side of the table to let loose a stream of bullets before swinging back, pressing his back hard against the battered surface. Damn it, the wall of teddy bears (and the drugs inside them) had turned into a nightmarish inferno, and the flames were already leaping up into the rafters. “No kidding. Info dump?”
“We’ve got Dr Sato, he was locked in one of the outhouses they turned into labs.” Shiba switched over into clinical mode instantly. “They had another dozen or so workers trapped throughout the building, as well. Turns out that Tanaka was holding his two kids hostage in return for his assistance.” It was a familiar story, but it still made Takei sick. “The thing is, we haven’t been able to find them yet.”
“Gotcha.”
Static cackled in Shiba’s ear, and Shiba winced painfully.
“Shiba, can you hear me?” the earpiece said, concerned excitement piping through.
“Hi, Miyoshi!” Takei chirped loudly as he reloaded.
“Takei!”
“Any luck on the kids?” Shiba asked, hand pressed against his earpiece to try and drown out the noise. Takei shuffled close, pressing in against Shiba’s shoulder so that he could hear the conversation over the fireworks going on around them.
“Nada. We’ve got sweeps going through some of the other chambers, but they haven’t turned up anything yet.”
“Any ideas?” Takei asked, ducking when a secondary explosion ripped through the warehouse. “We’re sort of running out of time.” Not to mention bullets. Seriously, how did other people manage it?
“Tanata doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would let his hostages out of his sight for long, is there anywhere close where he might have stashed the kids while he was preoccupied with you?”
Their window of vision was limited, what with the table blocking half the room from them. Still. Takei’s gaze swept across the warehouse, trying to find somewhere-
“Crap,” Shiba hissed beside him. Takei blinked, following Shiba’s gaze up (and up) to the dinky manager’s office that was hazardously attached high up on the back wall of the warehouse. It was one of those offices that seemed to defy all common sense; a tiny box wedged high up in the corner of the room, with a long flight of skeleton stairs leading up to it. Takei thought it probably provided a fantastic panorama view of the warehouse; however he couldn’t see how it could possibly pass any safety or sanity test. The staircase alone looked like it could cause a few heart attacks.
Takei grinned.
“Oh, nonono,” Shiba protested, eyes widening in growing horror. You know how I feel about heights.”
“That they are big, scary things that only happen to bad people?” Takei patted Shiba sympathetically on the shoulder. “Hate to break this to you, partner, but maybe there is a reason why about four stories of rickety stairs are about to be unleashed in your direction.”
“Is it too late to repent?” Shiba moaned pathetically. Takei snagged the earpiece, his grin widening.
“Miyoshi, we have a possible area of interest. There’s a manager’s box approximately 3/4ers of the way up the northern wall, right hand corner. That might have been where Tanaka was before he came down for his personal meet-and-greet.” Takei heard the furious flaying of keys in the background, and Ibu’s voice murmured something indecipherable.
“There’s no record of it on the building plan,” Miyoshi responded after a few seconds lag.
“Because it was built by a five year old on crack,” Shiba interjected. “And not the expensive kind of crack.”
“It may still had a secondary exit, there’s a corridor running along the other side of the wall at approximately that height.” Miyoshi wisely ignored Shiba’s ramblings, because he was sane and sensible.
Takei nodded. That made sense, if only because he couldn’t see anyone being prepared to work in a tiny office that required you to walk down four flights of stairs just to use the bathroom. There was no time, however, to find a more user-friendly entrance, not with the sweat creeping up Takei’s neck uncomfortably from the heat.
“Could you patch it through to the others that we’re going to make a run for it?” Takei glanced down at Shiba’s watch before looking back up at Shiba. Shiba’s gaze went blank for a moment as he took in the changing pattern of gunfire, then mouthed ‘25’. “25 seconds, as of now.”
“Right.” The earpiece went silent.
25, 24, 23-
Shiba soundlessly handed Takei a couple of rounds of bullets, not that they were going to have any time to reload once they were on the staircase.
3, 2, 1 -
Aaand, action!
Takei set off at a sprint, keeping as low to the ground as possible. The sudden burst of action took the shooters by surprise, and they were two flights up the steps (clang, clang, clang) before the first bullets ricocheted a few centimetres left of Takei’s foot. A humourless smile flashed across his mouth, and Shiba cursed as he scrambled up the steps beside him on his hands and feet to narrow his target size. It was only Shiba’s hand pressing Takei’s head down that stopped it from being rudely introduced to certain death. The follow-up bullet didn’t come, however, the shooter taken out by whichever agent had used Takei and Shiba as bait to out his position.
(Hal. Definitely Hal.)
Shiba kicked down the door of the small office and Takei took guard, however there were no Big Bads hiding in the corners just waiting for an opportunistic moment to strike. A grin lit up Takei’s features as he took in the two kids tucked underneath a desk. Success.
Shiba crouched down in front of them with a warm smile.
“Everything’s alright. We’re going to get you back to your daddy now, ok?” Shiba cooed, flicking over from hardened professional to giant softy with a weakness for kids. “My name’s Shiba, what’s yours?” He bent down low, extending a hand out to the children.
Where Shiba was finding the time for chitchat was beyond Takei.
“Sakura,” the little girl said hesitantly, creeping forward. She couldn’t have been more than five or six, Takei thought, giving himself a mental kick up the backside. Normally he was pretty good at the human side of his job, but his headache and aching ribs were leaving him a little techy. Takei gave them a little, apologetic wave. “Hinata,” she continued with a little more confidence, pointing to her younger still brother.
While Shiba focussed on the children, Takei studied the small office.
Miyoshi was right, there was another door that led out. While it was locked, nothing about the makeshift office was really all that solid. Hell. Even the dinky desk looked like it was 9/10ths cardboard. All it took was a couple of well placed shoulder charges to break through the cheap lock and into the corridor beyond. There was no helpful, neon sign lighting up the best way out, and Takei wasn’t too fond of leaving such things to chance. On the other hand, the thought of taking the two kids back down into the scene below-
A blinding white light flashed through the office, followed by a rumbling boom that Takei felt spearing up through his feet. He braced himself in the doorframe, wobbling as his hearing emerged back from some watery, disconnected place.
“And this is when we make our dramatic exit!” Shiba announced as he raced past Takei, thrusting the young boy (Hinata, the still somewhat fuzzy part of his brain supplied) into Takei’s arms while shoving him out of the room and into the corridor in one, smooth motion. Takei was still seeing white dots in front of his eyes when there was a nauseating, scraping sound. His eyes widened as the office slunk downwards a meter before simply peeling away from the wall.
“Oh, wow.”
The crash as the office hit the floor below was sickeningly cool.
“Takei?!” Miyoshi’s desperate voice echoed through the static. “Hal just said-“
“We’re fine,” Takei reassured, blinking away the last of the flashing lights. “We’re going to need you to navigate a way out from here though, Miyoshi. We’re running blind.” It was tempting to just take off down the corridor and hope for the best. After all, there were only two possible directions, right? One of them had to lead to an exit. But that was a rookie mistake, and Takei had stopped making those at least six months ago. Trust was a tricky beast to get right, but when you did-
“They’re evacuating down below, it’s too dangerous now.” Miyoshi said needlessly, although Takei knew he was just filling empty air while Ibu deconstructed the layout plans. Ok. Got it. Take a left.”
And Takei would have gone right.
The air was starting to clog with smoke. The heat rose up through the floors and slowly started to stick to the soles of Takei’s shoes with every new step. Shiba spared him an emotionless smile. Each wet breath was becoming just that much more difficult, and it was-
Heat and hurt so sudden that it tears through Takei and shatters all his senses in one foul blow.
- it was maybe not the best place for Takei to be right now. Shiba’s growing sense of urgency was playing out across his features, captured even in his rough cough that croaked out through dry lips.
“Ok, left again.”
Shiba doubled up as the next coughing fit came and then never moved on. Takei wordlessly took Sakura from him and slung her around his back into a piggyback-like position. If he had to drag Shiba out of here like a child then so be it, although it was Shiba’s own fault for being a heavy smoker. You would think his lungs would feel right at home amongst all this smoke.
“Aaaand, one more right and you should be there.”
They skidded to a stop, not through any sort of choice but because the corridor simply ended. There were no more doors, no side corridors to frolic down. Just a window, open and inviting but also at least 5 stories up off the ground.
Unless ...
Takei ducked his head out the window, letting out a peel of laughter. Ibu was random in his creativity, Takei had to give him that. Shiba sidled up beside him slowly, his weariness clear.
“You have got to be kidding me.” The fire escape was buckled and twisted, and Shiba was the world’s biggest wimp with a goatee. Still, even Takei’s stomach lurched a little at their only possible escape route. It looked less a helpful avenue down to the ground and more like a junk of metal that might just like to eat them. The rungs that should have taken them down to the first ledge had eroded away, leaving an initial drop of already 3 or so meters.
“You first,” Takei said with a grin, one hand tightly wrapped around Sakura’s hand, the small boy still balanced on his hip.
“I hate you,” Shiba moaned. “You and the twisted mind who thought that THIS was the best way out of a building.”
Takei smirked. “Noted.”
The fire-escape buckled and groaned when Shiba dropped down onto the first ledge, and Shiba’s desperate “whoa!” as it wavered beneath his weight caught Takei’s breath. He didn’t let it out again until the wobbling stopped, and Shiba rearranged himself precariously into as balanced a position as he could achieve.
“Ready!” Shiba called up, his legs braced and his arms reaching up towards Takei.
“You’re going to be fine,” Takei murmured warmly to Hinata, placing a brief kiss against his forehead. “Just pretend to be a football.” Shiba caught him easily, curling him down against his leg as he prepared for Sakura.
The small girl looked up at Takei with wide eyes, and even Takei’s most confident smile did little to displace the fear in them. He wasn’t helped at all when another explosion rocked behind them, blasting hot air and steam out onto the ledge and whipping Takei’s legs out from under him with a grunt. The ledge creaked and cried, and it was all that Takei could do to pull Sakura beneath him and wait for the shaking to stop.
“You ok up there?” Shiba’s concern filtered up through the grates, and Takei answered with a breathless laugh. “Don’t answer that.”
Takei cautiously stood up, surveying the damage with a quick look before deciding that it was best not to know. The explosion had at least stolen away the last of Sakura’s hesitation, and she didn’t even cry out when he let her go and down into Shiba’s arms.
“Want me to catch you, as well?” Shiba called out, grinning up through the darkness. Takei frowned down with mock disapproval. He vaulted up onto the railing-
The blast caught him flush on his back, a lick of heat slurping upwards and suspending him in time for a moment before he was suddenly freefalling. He saw Shiba’s horrified expression as he plummeted past, and then-
Takei’s fall stopped violently, strong fingers wrapping around his forearm before sliding down to his wrist and digging deep into the skin there. Takei’s breath was knocked hard from his chest, and a cry tore from his throat when a piece of mangled, burnt railing scrapped down his back, before smashing into the pavement below. It was at least a three story drop, and Takei’s hazy gaze took in the shattered remains of the railing before lifting his eyes upwards.
“Gotcha,” Shiba said quietly, his other hand coming over and clamping around Takei’s wrist, holding him tight. “Think you could maybe not let go?” The light taunt was said with a grimace. Shiba was pressed hard against the fire escape, his body twisted over the top of the railing and barely grounded on the other side. Fiery light shone through his hair, and soot was smeared across his cheek and up into his hairline. The cackle of the fire above them filled the air, and red-hot sparks rained down on them.
And Takei ... Takei had never felt so safe.
“Not planning to,” Takei ground back, somehow bringing his other arm up so that his hand was clenched shakily over Shiba’s. Crap. His shirt was absolutely ruined-
And then he was tumbling up and over the barrier, barrelling into Shiba’s chest before the momentum sent them both down onto the grated floor of the landing. Takei leant against one of the supporting beams, desperately trying to regain his breath, while Shiba sat with his head dropped between his knees.
“Let’s not do that again,” Shiba said needlessly, before pushing himself back up. Sakura and Hinata were tangled together in the corner, disbelief warring with maybe a touch of hero-worship.
“Yeah.” And Takei was going to be able to move again, honestly, just once he managed to hunt down his breath and started breathing properly again. They didn’t really have time for that, not if he wanted to KEEP breathing once he finally regained the ability.
Shiba scooped up both the kids, managed to place a steadying hand on Takei’s shoulder, and didn’t freak out even once as they navigated down the remaining floors of the fire escape. It was possibly Shiba’s greatest moment of awesome ever, especially as pieces of the fire escape above them continued to fall as they snaked slowly downwards, clanging against the metal framework and rebounding off the wall.
Takei was feeling just a little bit wobbly himself, but there was something rawer threading through his blood that had been missing for far too long, bringing an intenseness that guided him down those last few rungs of the ladder and allowed him to drop the final couple of meters to the ground.
“Shiba! Takei!” Kei and Hal ran towards them, followed by an older man who possessed more than a passing resemblance to the two kids clinging desperately to Shiba. The next few minutes passed in a smear of excitable voices and leading hands that guided them out into the wide shipping yard that the building backed onto. The yard was far enough away that the shedding tiles and framework didn’t pose a threat, but still close enough that Takei felt the heat of the burning building lick the back of his neck.
It was perfect.
Shiba shot him a grin, and the last strands of Takei’s carefully woven resistance snapped.
He punched Shiba, hard, in the face.
Author(s): Sententia
Artist(s): dragon_gypsy
Fandom(s): Switch
Type: (Gen, Het, Femmeslash or Slash) Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 34,000.
Characters/Pairings: Takei and Shiba.
Warnings/Spoilers: For the entire series and the official '5 years later' doujinshi done by Naked Ape.
Summary: It was the end of the world as Takei knew it, and he was feeling ... wait, how did the rest of the song go again? Takei returns to work after Shingo's betrayal, only to be hit be a far greater one. Both Shiba and Takei struggle with the consequences.
Author’s Notes: This is the longest thing I've written, and it really shows. When I planned it out it was only supposed to be 10,000 words (which is still huge for me), but it blossomed into something much longer. It's been a great growing process, and if I were to redo the story again with everything I'd learnt, it would probably be a completely different fic.
Ok. So. Best laid plans.
The gun swung down hard, cracking against the base of Takei’s skull.
Attatttattaa-ouch!
His teeth sang up through his ears, and cracks of pain splintered through his skull in rip-roaring flows of lava. He slumped forward awkwardly, caught by the ropes that keep him tied to the chair. Still the sense of motion didn’t quite end, and Takei felt like he was bobbing for apples.
“You do know you’re supposed to use the other end, right?” Takei said brightly once the stars stopped sparking in his eyes. “I think this is the first time I’ve met a dyslexic gunslinger.”
It was so cliché that Takei could practically hear the underlying, throbbing soundtrack. Something dark and low, thump-da-thump-da-thumping at an almost non-existent decibel that you felt rather than heard.
Either that, or something by Arc L’Ciel. Takei wasn’t fussy.
The ropes that crisscrossed across his chest and around the back of the chair were old and rough. This was, Takei thought, a stylistic choice. There was something about the way the frayed edges burned through his shirt and bit into his already raw skin that just screamed of someone getting a whole lot of pleasure out of this.
Unsurprisingly, that person was not Takei. He breathed in, and regretted it. The hundreds of little teeth that formed the surface of the rope introduced themselves further to his skin, and he bit back a curse. He breathed out, and regretted it. Unfortunately, the alternative wasn’t particularly alluring. Sure, passing out was a good way to escape the nasty bruises on his back, the headache that wasn’t going anywhere fast, and the stupid lash marks from the ropes. However, unconsciousness also meant that Shiba would have to carry him out once he turned up, and Takei didn’t think he could live with that. Knowing his luck, there would be pictures.
And Shiba would be here, that bastard. Eventually.
Takei didn’t remember signing up for this half-arsed torture play. Proper interrogation required the right balance of mind games and the threat of violence to unhinge the target. Anticipation and a crawling sense of fear of what might happen was much more destructive than violence inflicted on its own. Instead, Takei was dramatically seated in the middle of a warehouse, a table laden with all sorts of exciting things in front of him. More interesting (at least to Takei) were the boxes that lined the walls, each marked inconspicuously with smiling teddy bears with hearts on their foreheads. It explained how they had been able to smuggle in the components required for the deadly cocktail of drugs.
His ribs were bruised and battered, and there was a thin stream of blood running down the back of his neck. Takei was pretty damn sure that there were bruises marring his forehead, and if there had been any permanent damage done to his face he was going to make someone pay.
And Shiba would be here, hopefully sometime before these stupid ropes sawed him in half.
Takei was getting a bit impatient. Torture-play was boring.
“Did you guys ever consider chains?” Takei quipped, keeping his breaths as shallow as possible. “I hear all the modern crims are using them these days. More circulation retention, less rope burn.”
They were killing time, which was great. So was Takei.
“Do I look like I care about your personal well-being?” Tanaka taunted, all ice.
Takei tipped his head thoughtfully to the side. “Well...”
The slap was expected, but it did little to compensate the ringing through his ears.
“And now,” Tanaka said triumphantly, as though he had won a sparkly new prize, “you are going to tell me everything.”
“Seriously?” Takei asked dubiously, his eyebrows shooting up. “Man. You really haven’t done your homework if you think this is enough to make me talk.” He was really going to have to work on his reputation when this was all over.
“Oh, I know enough.” The shark smile hovered right in front of Takei’s face before fading backwards. Takei stiffened at the tone, cursing when it only gave the ropes more exposure. “You didn’t seriously think you could successfully infiltrate my empire when you couldn’t figure out your own partners were working for your enemy?” Takei flinched, and this time there was nothing voluntary or deliberate in the movement, just a reflexive and pathetic attempt at self defence. Tanaka’s smile deepened. “Oh, yes. I know everything. That blond one – Shingo, wasn’t it? – he was your first ever partner. I’m sure he taught you everything you know.” The unspoken statement lingered in the air between them, and something coiled so tightly in Takei that he had to fight back every instinct to snap. “I heard he really enjoyed blowing you up.” Tanaka brought the gun to Takei’s chest and ran the barrel down through the tears in Takei’s shirt. Up and over the ropes Tanaka trailed the gun, mockingly tracing the faded scars that sat beneath them.
Ok. So this was how you properly employed psychological warfare.
Takei’s eyes snapped shut. Time to keep focussed.
The cold of the gun felt sterile, mechanical. The hatred that remained for Shingo tasted the same. Bitter and quiet, but like steel.
“And then there’s that other partner of yours, the one who saw the torn, ripped remains of your body and found inspiration.” The words were breathed against Takei’s cheek like a twisted caress. “What was the final clincher for him, did you think?” Tanaka asked. “The bloody mess that passed as your chest, or how you resembled a corpse as they rushed you off to the operating theatre?”
And this pain was always different, echoing deep and six feet under, where no-one else could reach. It ignited something raw and savage that flamed through Takei and left behind nothing but ashes. He tried to close the door again, but wrenched it off its hinges instead. He was losing control, his precious, protective control-
“Now, tell me everything that your department knows about my little organisation.” Tanaka laughed, low and deliberate. “You know you’re going to, anyway.”
It was the wrong thing to say, because nothing grounded Takei more quickly than reminding him that he existed outside of Shiba, outside of Shingo.
It was dangerous to underestimate Takei, because sometimes the scars that left you breathless also fired your soul.
His eyes flickered opened, a smirk twisted at the corner of his mouth.
“You lose,” Takei said, and there was enough in his eyes to force Tanaka to take a step back. Hesitation creased Tanaka’s forehead before being driven away by a madness-tinged anger. He raised the gun again, the barrel shaking slightly, uncontrolled.
“You little shit-“
The sounds of bullets trumpeted through the warehouse, echoing like thunder and exploding the air with noise. Tanaka swore as he dropped down into a crouch behind Takei’s chair. Takei’s heart caught in his throat as he did a useless chair dance to try and minimise his own target potential.
“Huh, turns out that not all my partners are as pathetic as you thought,” Takei grinned down at Tanaka. Tanaka’s own men were returning fire, but Takei’s visibility was next to useless from this angle. There was too much endless noise to try and figure out where it was coming from. Common sense suggested there were numerous entrance points for his backup, although common sense had this unfortunate habit of letting him down recently.
Just as long as no-one shot him, Takei didn’t care either way.
As the gunfire continued, Tanaka made up his mind. He scuttled upwards; flipping opened a small knife and hacking at the ropes.
“You’re coming with me,” Tanaka growled, dragging Takei up from the chair. The ropes fell as he rose, and Takei hissed as the tears were exposed to the biting air. Tanaka kicked over the metal table as he scrambled them both backwards, and Takei fought to keep his balance.
“I don’t think so,” a voice said jovially from behind them. Tanaka spun them around, almost knocking Takei from his feet as he brought his gun up and pressed it against Takei’s head.
Shiba stood there, gun raised. His hair was a mess and he looked like he had gotten dressed in the dark (a very plausible possibility since Shiba seemed to think things like power bills were voluntary), but there was an edge to his smile that threatened to tear Tanaka from limb to limb. Possibly with his teeth. Passion and anger and something darker, more heady blazed through his eyes, and his gaze never wavered from Takei.
Takei felt like he was being swallowed whole, it was a surprisingly awesome feeling. He had no idea what Jonah had been so pissed about.
“I brought you that shirt,” Shiba said with reproach, like it was Takei’s fault that it was mainly in shreds.
“Think you’ll be able to do a swap and change?” Takei asked. “Maybe for a colour that isn’t quite so garish?” Any further retorts were cut off as Tanaka wrapped an arm around Takei’s throat, drawing him roughly back against his chest. Takei felt Tanaka’s heavy, uneven breaths against the back of his neck and tickling through his hair. He stilled completely as Tanaka’s tension tightened through the muscles pressed up against his windpipe, cutting off some of his precious air.
“No more chit-chat,” Tanaka demanded, his voice rough and tight. He wrenched Takei backwards, and for a moment Takei was lifted up off his feet, choking around Tanaka’s death grip.
“Don’t move,” Shiba replied, lifting the gun and zeroing it in on them both.
Takei shot him a disbelieving glare. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” He forced out. Yeah. Maybe he’d just turn into a phoenix and fly out of here. That was what Shiba was expecting, right? “Besides, I’ve changed my mind.” Takei smiled winningly. “You could leave now; I’m pretty comfortable as is.”
“What the hell are you playing at?” Tanata hissed against Takei’s ear. Shiba looks on, unconcerned.
Takei shrugged, or at least as much as he dared to.
“You made a pretty convincing argument earlier. My partner over there is a bit of a bastard. I’m not entirely sure I want to be saved by him, after all.”
“What?” The arm around his neck tightened, but the barrel of the gun started to tremor just slightly with uncertainty.
“Hey, no problem,” Shiba retorted, lazily tipping the gun sideways. He could barely be bothered to keep it raised. “Only fair that you want to get yourself out of this mess since you got yourself into it in the first place. Maybe you are better suited to working on your own; it would probably be safer for your partners.”
Takei’s eyebrows dropped and his eyes narrowed into slits. Yeah, Shiba realised just a moment too late that his comment went a little too far, although his ‘partner’ did a good job in masking his mistake. The cold comment had the desired affect on at least one of them. The arm around Takei’s neck slipped sidewise, the elbow no longer locked against his windpipe but loosely pressed against his collarbone.
Tanaka wasn’t keeping up. Good.
“Yeah, well I’m pretty used to getting out of the messes you’ve landed me in.” Snide, and maybe a little bit too much on point, but Takei thought a little return fire was only fair. “In fact...”
The barrel pressed closer on reflex, and then rebounded aw-
THERE.
Takei dropped down the moment Shiba fired. He felt the whiz of the bullet through his hair as he fell into a rough crouch. He grunted as the wounds across his chest dragged open and his head pounded like a banshee that had just taken up drumming as a side act. Still, Takei was pretty damn used to operating in less-than-perfect situations, and so while his roll wasn’t likely to garner him a place in the Olympic squad, it had just enough oomph to push him past the falling body behind him and – more importantly – behind the turned over table.
The explosion of gunfire that rattled through the warehouse sounded like a barrage of rain, but the sparks that erupted as each hit against metal posts or rigging were far less forgiving. Takei yelped as a couple flashed too close, burying his head in his arms and curling down on himself. Oh, man. Shoot outs always had this way of lasting way, way too long. Statistically, Takei wasn’t even sure how they could last as long as they did, because you had to run out of bullets at some point, right?
“Having fun yet?” Shiba said as he vaulted over the top of the upturned table and landed beside Takei with a thump. Takei shot him a wide grin, taking the gun that was offered to him with a calculating gaze. It was a little too heavy, but that was how Shiba had always liked them. He cocked it, raising it up parallel to his head as he took in a couple of steadying breaths.
Which. Yeah. Maybe not such a good idea. Shiba winced sympathetically, his gaze sweeping down Takei’s screwed up torso before ending back up at the nasty bruise that Takei just knew was ruining his devastatingly good looks.
“I blame you,” Takei said pointedly. Shiba nodded.
“Noted.”
Takei closed his eyes and listened, allowing the ratatatat of shooting to play out a pattern. Three on their far left, friendly fire. Two at least up in the overhang somewhere, but with a surprisingly short shooting radius (must be impaired by something bulky, likely one on the main, steel pillars that swept all the way to the roof). One with a delay followed by rapid shooting, so probably shooting around a corner-
A loud boom turned all the air in the warehouse into a wall of noise and heat that was hot and thick, wet with chemicals. Takei coughed into his fist. He wiped the back of his palm roughly across his eyes, his pulse racing.
“And that’s why you don’t play Cowboy and Indians around chemical solutions,” Shiba said with a sad shake of his head, although urgency flickered in his eyes, the brown of his iris spiked through with the shiny, reflective red of the explosion. “We don’t have much time.”
Takei snorted, dipping around the side of the table to let loose a stream of bullets before swinging back, pressing his back hard against the battered surface. Damn it, the wall of teddy bears (and the drugs inside them) had turned into a nightmarish inferno, and the flames were already leaping up into the rafters. “No kidding. Info dump?”
“We’ve got Dr Sato, he was locked in one of the outhouses they turned into labs.” Shiba switched over into clinical mode instantly. “They had another dozen or so workers trapped throughout the building, as well. Turns out that Tanaka was holding his two kids hostage in return for his assistance.” It was a familiar story, but it still made Takei sick. “The thing is, we haven’t been able to find them yet.”
“Gotcha.”
Static cackled in Shiba’s ear, and Shiba winced painfully.
“Shiba, can you hear me?” the earpiece said, concerned excitement piping through.
“Hi, Miyoshi!” Takei chirped loudly as he reloaded.
“Takei!”
“Any luck on the kids?” Shiba asked, hand pressed against his earpiece to try and drown out the noise. Takei shuffled close, pressing in against Shiba’s shoulder so that he could hear the conversation over the fireworks going on around them.
“Nada. We’ve got sweeps going through some of the other chambers, but they haven’t turned up anything yet.”
“Any ideas?” Takei asked, ducking when a secondary explosion ripped through the warehouse. “We’re sort of running out of time.” Not to mention bullets. Seriously, how did other people manage it?
“Tanata doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would let his hostages out of his sight for long, is there anywhere close where he might have stashed the kids while he was preoccupied with you?”
Their window of vision was limited, what with the table blocking half the room from them. Still. Takei’s gaze swept across the warehouse, trying to find somewhere-
“Crap,” Shiba hissed beside him. Takei blinked, following Shiba’s gaze up (and up) to the dinky manager’s office that was hazardously attached high up on the back wall of the warehouse. It was one of those offices that seemed to defy all common sense; a tiny box wedged high up in the corner of the room, with a long flight of skeleton stairs leading up to it. Takei thought it probably provided a fantastic panorama view of the warehouse; however he couldn’t see how it could possibly pass any safety or sanity test. The staircase alone looked like it could cause a few heart attacks.
Takei grinned.
“Oh, nonono,” Shiba protested, eyes widening in growing horror. You know how I feel about heights.”
“That they are big, scary things that only happen to bad people?” Takei patted Shiba sympathetically on the shoulder. “Hate to break this to you, partner, but maybe there is a reason why about four stories of rickety stairs are about to be unleashed in your direction.”
“Is it too late to repent?” Shiba moaned pathetically. Takei snagged the earpiece, his grin widening.
“Miyoshi, we have a possible area of interest. There’s a manager’s box approximately 3/4ers of the way up the northern wall, right hand corner. That might have been where Tanaka was before he came down for his personal meet-and-greet.” Takei heard the furious flaying of keys in the background, and Ibu’s voice murmured something indecipherable.
“There’s no record of it on the building plan,” Miyoshi responded after a few seconds lag.
“Because it was built by a five year old on crack,” Shiba interjected. “And not the expensive kind of crack.”
“It may still had a secondary exit, there’s a corridor running along the other side of the wall at approximately that height.” Miyoshi wisely ignored Shiba’s ramblings, because he was sane and sensible.
Takei nodded. That made sense, if only because he couldn’t see anyone being prepared to work in a tiny office that required you to walk down four flights of stairs just to use the bathroom. There was no time, however, to find a more user-friendly entrance, not with the sweat creeping up Takei’s neck uncomfortably from the heat.
“Could you patch it through to the others that we’re going to make a run for it?” Takei glanced down at Shiba’s watch before looking back up at Shiba. Shiba’s gaze went blank for a moment as he took in the changing pattern of gunfire, then mouthed ‘25’. “25 seconds, as of now.”
“Right.” The earpiece went silent.
25, 24, 23-
Shiba soundlessly handed Takei a couple of rounds of bullets, not that they were going to have any time to reload once they were on the staircase.
3, 2, 1 -
Aaand, action!
Takei set off at a sprint, keeping as low to the ground as possible. The sudden burst of action took the shooters by surprise, and they were two flights up the steps (clang, clang, clang) before the first bullets ricocheted a few centimetres left of Takei’s foot. A humourless smile flashed across his mouth, and Shiba cursed as he scrambled up the steps beside him on his hands and feet to narrow his target size. It was only Shiba’s hand pressing Takei’s head down that stopped it from being rudely introduced to certain death. The follow-up bullet didn’t come, however, the shooter taken out by whichever agent had used Takei and Shiba as bait to out his position.
(Hal. Definitely Hal.)
Shiba kicked down the door of the small office and Takei took guard, however there were no Big Bads hiding in the corners just waiting for an opportunistic moment to strike. A grin lit up Takei’s features as he took in the two kids tucked underneath a desk. Success.
Shiba crouched down in front of them with a warm smile.
“Everything’s alright. We’re going to get you back to your daddy now, ok?” Shiba cooed, flicking over from hardened professional to giant softy with a weakness for kids. “My name’s Shiba, what’s yours?” He bent down low, extending a hand out to the children.
Where Shiba was finding the time for chitchat was beyond Takei.
“Sakura,” the little girl said hesitantly, creeping forward. She couldn’t have been more than five or six, Takei thought, giving himself a mental kick up the backside. Normally he was pretty good at the human side of his job, but his headache and aching ribs were leaving him a little techy. Takei gave them a little, apologetic wave. “Hinata,” she continued with a little more confidence, pointing to her younger still brother.
While Shiba focussed on the children, Takei studied the small office.
Miyoshi was right, there was another door that led out. While it was locked, nothing about the makeshift office was really all that solid. Hell. Even the dinky desk looked like it was 9/10ths cardboard. All it took was a couple of well placed shoulder charges to break through the cheap lock and into the corridor beyond. There was no helpful, neon sign lighting up the best way out, and Takei wasn’t too fond of leaving such things to chance. On the other hand, the thought of taking the two kids back down into the scene below-
A blinding white light flashed through the office, followed by a rumbling boom that Takei felt spearing up through his feet. He braced himself in the doorframe, wobbling as his hearing emerged back from some watery, disconnected place.
“And this is when we make our dramatic exit!” Shiba announced as he raced past Takei, thrusting the young boy (Hinata, the still somewhat fuzzy part of his brain supplied) into Takei’s arms while shoving him out of the room and into the corridor in one, smooth motion. Takei was still seeing white dots in front of his eyes when there was a nauseating, scraping sound. His eyes widened as the office slunk downwards a meter before simply peeling away from the wall.
“Oh, wow.”
The crash as the office hit the floor below was sickeningly cool.
“Takei?!” Miyoshi’s desperate voice echoed through the static. “Hal just said-“
“We’re fine,” Takei reassured, blinking away the last of the flashing lights. “We’re going to need you to navigate a way out from here though, Miyoshi. We’re running blind.” It was tempting to just take off down the corridor and hope for the best. After all, there were only two possible directions, right? One of them had to lead to an exit. But that was a rookie mistake, and Takei had stopped making those at least six months ago. Trust was a tricky beast to get right, but when you did-
“They’re evacuating down below, it’s too dangerous now.” Miyoshi said needlessly, although Takei knew he was just filling empty air while Ibu deconstructed the layout plans. Ok. Got it. Take a left.”
And Takei would have gone right.
The air was starting to clog with smoke. The heat rose up through the floors and slowly started to stick to the soles of Takei’s shoes with every new step. Shiba spared him an emotionless smile. Each wet breath was becoming just that much more difficult, and it was-
Heat and hurt so sudden that it tears through Takei and shatters all his senses in one foul blow.
- it was maybe not the best place for Takei to be right now. Shiba’s growing sense of urgency was playing out across his features, captured even in his rough cough that croaked out through dry lips.
“Ok, left again.”
Shiba doubled up as the next coughing fit came and then never moved on. Takei wordlessly took Sakura from him and slung her around his back into a piggyback-like position. If he had to drag Shiba out of here like a child then so be it, although it was Shiba’s own fault for being a heavy smoker. You would think his lungs would feel right at home amongst all this smoke.
“Aaaand, one more right and you should be there.”
They skidded to a stop, not through any sort of choice but because the corridor simply ended. There were no more doors, no side corridors to frolic down. Just a window, open and inviting but also at least 5 stories up off the ground.
Unless ...
Takei ducked his head out the window, letting out a peel of laughter. Ibu was random in his creativity, Takei had to give him that. Shiba sidled up beside him slowly, his weariness clear.
“You have got to be kidding me.” The fire escape was buckled and twisted, and Shiba was the world’s biggest wimp with a goatee. Still, even Takei’s stomach lurched a little at their only possible escape route. It looked less a helpful avenue down to the ground and more like a junk of metal that might just like to eat them. The rungs that should have taken them down to the first ledge had eroded away, leaving an initial drop of already 3 or so meters.
“You first,” Takei said with a grin, one hand tightly wrapped around Sakura’s hand, the small boy still balanced on his hip.
“I hate you,” Shiba moaned. “You and the twisted mind who thought that THIS was the best way out of a building.”
Takei smirked. “Noted.”
The fire-escape buckled and groaned when Shiba dropped down onto the first ledge, and Shiba’s desperate “whoa!” as it wavered beneath his weight caught Takei’s breath. He didn’t let it out again until the wobbling stopped, and Shiba rearranged himself precariously into as balanced a position as he could achieve.
“Ready!” Shiba called up, his legs braced and his arms reaching up towards Takei.
“You’re going to be fine,” Takei murmured warmly to Hinata, placing a brief kiss against his forehead. “Just pretend to be a football.” Shiba caught him easily, curling him down against his leg as he prepared for Sakura.
The small girl looked up at Takei with wide eyes, and even Takei’s most confident smile did little to displace the fear in them. He wasn’t helped at all when another explosion rocked behind them, blasting hot air and steam out onto the ledge and whipping Takei’s legs out from under him with a grunt. The ledge creaked and cried, and it was all that Takei could do to pull Sakura beneath him and wait for the shaking to stop.
“You ok up there?” Shiba’s concern filtered up through the grates, and Takei answered with a breathless laugh. “Don’t answer that.”
Takei cautiously stood up, surveying the damage with a quick look before deciding that it was best not to know. The explosion had at least stolen away the last of Sakura’s hesitation, and she didn’t even cry out when he let her go and down into Shiba’s arms.
“Want me to catch you, as well?” Shiba called out, grinning up through the darkness. Takei frowned down with mock disapproval. He vaulted up onto the railing-
The blast caught him flush on his back, a lick of heat slurping upwards and suspending him in time for a moment before he was suddenly freefalling. He saw Shiba’s horrified expression as he plummeted past, and then-
Takei’s fall stopped violently, strong fingers wrapping around his forearm before sliding down to his wrist and digging deep into the skin there. Takei’s breath was knocked hard from his chest, and a cry tore from his throat when a piece of mangled, burnt railing scrapped down his back, before smashing into the pavement below. It was at least a three story drop, and Takei’s hazy gaze took in the shattered remains of the railing before lifting his eyes upwards.
“Gotcha,” Shiba said quietly, his other hand coming over and clamping around Takei’s wrist, holding him tight. “Think you could maybe not let go?” The light taunt was said with a grimace. Shiba was pressed hard against the fire escape, his body twisted over the top of the railing and barely grounded on the other side. Fiery light shone through his hair, and soot was smeared across his cheek and up into his hairline. The cackle of the fire above them filled the air, and red-hot sparks rained down on them.
And Takei ... Takei had never felt so safe.
“Not planning to,” Takei ground back, somehow bringing his other arm up so that his hand was clenched shakily over Shiba’s. Crap. His shirt was absolutely ruined-
And then he was tumbling up and over the barrier, barrelling into Shiba’s chest before the momentum sent them both down onto the grated floor of the landing. Takei leant against one of the supporting beams, desperately trying to regain his breath, while Shiba sat with his head dropped between his knees.
“Let’s not do that again,” Shiba said needlessly, before pushing himself back up. Sakura and Hinata were tangled together in the corner, disbelief warring with maybe a touch of hero-worship.
“Yeah.” And Takei was going to be able to move again, honestly, just once he managed to hunt down his breath and started breathing properly again. They didn’t really have time for that, not if he wanted to KEEP breathing once he finally regained the ability.
Shiba scooped up both the kids, managed to place a steadying hand on Takei’s shoulder, and didn’t freak out even once as they navigated down the remaining floors of the fire escape. It was possibly Shiba’s greatest moment of awesome ever, especially as pieces of the fire escape above them continued to fall as they snaked slowly downwards, clanging against the metal framework and rebounding off the wall.
Takei was feeling just a little bit wobbly himself, but there was something rawer threading through his blood that had been missing for far too long, bringing an intenseness that guided him down those last few rungs of the ladder and allowed him to drop the final couple of meters to the ground.
“Shiba! Takei!” Kei and Hal ran towards them, followed by an older man who possessed more than a passing resemblance to the two kids clinging desperately to Shiba. The next few minutes passed in a smear of excitable voices and leading hands that guided them out into the wide shipping yard that the building backed onto. The yard was far enough away that the shedding tiles and framework didn’t pose a threat, but still close enough that Takei felt the heat of the burning building lick the back of his neck.
It was perfect.
Shiba shot him a grin, and the last strands of Takei’s carefully woven resistance snapped.
He punched Shiba, hard, in the face.
