#how'd you like my tokusa?

[sparklycitrus]

Mafia AU Excerpt 3

The Rest of You Is Paradise - Side A Kanda/Lavi, Tyki/Lavi Mafia AU

(part 1) (part 2)

The man showed up exactly a month later, looking the same save for the hair pulled into a high ponytail. His opponent this time, however, was much more skilled. A stockily built boxer, he counteracted the man’s quick speed with precision and raw power. It was only by a very chancy kick in the last second that the man managed to take the boxer down.

Lavi did not get to watch, despite the fact for once he wanted to. It was Lulubell’s turn to oversee the proceedings, which meant he was constantly bombarded with additional bets. She couldn’t care less about procedure as long as she could squeeze in as many transactions as time allowed. After a while he told her off, said that this would just mess up everything later, but her only response was a flick of her cat eyes and the trademark disdain of her curled lip.

By the time everything wound down Lavi’s fingers were a cramped mess. He had double the transactions he normally did, which, depending on the Earl’s mood when he report it, could be great or disastrous. All he wanted right now, though, was a hot shower and the comfort of his bed. Maybe a shot of whiskey if he was up for it once he got back.

But alas, it looked like it had to wait. Tokusa, one of Lulubell’s men, made his way to him while gesticulating wildly. “Yo Bookman!” the man waved, dashing up and roughly grabbing his arm. “Wait up. Got a bit of trouble back there.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“One of the last guys got an arm loose. Need to get it back in before we can release him.”

Lavi raised an eyebrow. “And you’re asking me? I’m not the doctor, dude. Where’s Madarao?”

“Dragging that other one from his grave, looked like. Or making sure he’s actually cold before we send for the fuzz. Either way, he ain’t around. Told me to get you.”

“Uh… I’m still not a doctor.”

“Come on, man,” Tokusa dragged him a step. “Your old man was a fine fill-in before. I’m sure you can handle this, too.”

Lavi sighed. It was true that Gramps’ acupuncture knowledge had saved a few people from permanent damage in the past. “No promises.” He relented, following the man back down. They walked around the staging area and into a side room, where they usually put the injured for treatment. It was always safer to patch them up in-house before calling any outside help, even if they later died on the streets. Skinn Bolic, his guard for the current shift, nodded to Tokusa as they went in.

The fighter sat on a metal bench, one arm dangling off his side as he futilely tried to push it back in with the other. He jerked up as soon as the door opened. “Who the fuck are you?” came a barking order, the words warped by the split lip and the shiny, very swollen cheeks.

“We’re here to help you, dumbass.” Tokusa snickered. He turned to Lavi, spreading out his palm in a gesture of courtesy. “All yours.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Lavi inwardly groaned. He’d be lucky if guy didn’t deck him out of reflex. Exactly what he needed to deal with at the end of a long night.

The fighter looked a mess. His torso was wiped free of blood and grime, which only highlighted the staggering amount of bruises and cuts underneath. Both of his eyes were blackened, one almost swollen entirely shut. His hair resembled a rats’ nest barely held back with a single red-colored string. There was a tattoo on the left side of his chest, something kind of eastern symbol with extraneous flourishes in the ends. Too deliberately embellished to be strictly personal, Lavi concluded, although he did not recognize the style from any of the other sects. That dangling arm looked to be the least of his problems.

“You don’t look like a doctor.” The man said, eyeing Lavi the way he would an executioner.

“Didn’t say I was,” Lavi ignored the tone. “Relax, okay? If they wanted you dead they certainly wouldn’t send in someone like me. Now let’s take a look at that arm.”

The man hesitated for a moment before reluctantly letting go of his left shoulder. Lavi sat down next to him, pressing a thumb against the socket indent. The soft touch was answered with a jerk and a predicable hiss of pain. It was dislocated alright, along with beaten, torn, and covered in black and blue bruises. Lavi let himself the barest glance of the toned, bulging muscles on the man’s chest and biceps before looking back up, straight into the hard gaze of extremely distrustful blue eyes.

Perhaps fatigue had clouded his judgment, or he simply just realized his secret death wish, but Lavi felt his lips curving into a grin. “That guy gave you some trouble, huh?” Yes, do poke the wounded beast while you’re alone in a room with it. “Thought he’d had you for sure with that last punch.”

The man didn’t reply, only continued his ridiculously hostile stare. Lavi shrugged it off; he didn’t expect a response to his juvenile jab anyway. “Lie down,” he said instead, and moved to push the fighter onto the bench.

His hand was immediately snatched in a tight grip. He bit back a yelp, feeling his breath hitch as shooting pain traveled up the entire length of his arm. It took all of his control to not instinctively grab at the hand crushing his wrist and thumb. Or to hit back. That would certainly make it worse.

“Is he dead?” the man asked, voice low and calm.

It took Lavi a serious minute to realize he was asking about the boxer. Severe pain tend to interfere with thought processes, he’d found. “Don’t know,” he answered through gritted teeth. “Probably. Do you want your arm fixed or not? If it’s the latter I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”

The man held on a bit longer purposely before releasing his wrist. Lavi snatched it back, breath heavy and heart pumping. Bastard, he thought as he rubbed his reclaimed wrist. There were already finger-shaped bruises developing. What in the actual fuck? If he were the suspicious kind he’d think that Lulubell orchestrated the whole thing because he dared to mouth off her rule.

The fighter gave him another dirty look before proceeding to lie down on the bench. Lavi stood up, took the limp arm and began to pull it gently toward his body. The man grimaced, body stiffening with resistance. “No sudden movements,” he quickly said. “And don’t follow my pull. Otherwise I might have to strap you down.”

“Just shut up and fix it.”

“What do you think I’m doing? What do think this is, the movies? You can’t just knock yourself against the wall a few times and expect the shoulder to pop back in, you know.”

“Then just shut up.”

Lavi did. Partly because he actually had to concentrate so he won’t accidentally break the arm while rotating it, partly because he was just too goddamn tired to attempt banter. And that was exactly what they were doing –  bantering, like they’ve known each other for years. It was stupid and reckless, not to mention awkward, since he now had to basically hold the man’s hand for the next twenty minutes. He should’ve just not bothered, or better, said no to Tokusa to begin with. A bit late now.

When the muscles finally loosen enough and bones slid back into place the fighter gasped like he had been holding his breath underwater. He jerked and rolled to his side, almost off the bench as he curled into a fetal position. Lavi noticed the sheen of sweat on his back and belated realized how much pain he must’ve been in, with muscles that tight compounded with the multitude of injuries. He straightened up, careful not to make too much noise, and turned back toward the door.

“You should go to an actual hospital,” he said before stepping out. “I can’t tell if your organs are punctured from all the broken ribs you’ve got there. And check for concussions. And infections. And stay off alcohol while you’re recovering.”

“Anymore useless instructions?” the man responded gruffly.

“Yeah. Wear a sling.”

tbc