#okura: cold case investigation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norihisahyuga-archived · 8 years ago

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I Was King.

Eventual Matsumoto Jun/Ikuta Toma. Eventual Nagase Tomoya/Matsuoka Masahiro. Eventual Joshima Shigeru/Yamaguchi Tatsuya. Janizu/Death Note Crossover. 2500~ words.

When Jun Matsumoto is gifted a Death Note from the shinigami realm, he seeks to use it for nothing but what he views as true justice: punishing the criminals that the world fails to punish properly. This begins a worldwide slaughter, thousands of people succumbing to heart attacks until the NPA is forced to call in the mysterious L, a genius crime detective who has never failed to solve a case. But L has demons of his own to fight, and Jun has already decided he will stop at nothing to carry out his plan.

Toma has been doing his best, or so he thinks. Lifting Jun’s bad mood is a task he can’t quite wrap his mind around, partially because he has little idea what started it and little idea of how to go about correcting whatever problem has occurred to make him feel better. They’ve spent very little time with each other in the last week, and though he tells himself not to worry about it, that Jun can and has been moody before, he’s worried now. Seven days and the only interactions they’ve had have been during filming when Jun is always perfect because he has to be.

Having tried everything he could think of today, Toma had taken off as soon as filming was over.

The bonus of playing the best friend to the romantic lead in the film is that he isn’t needed in all of the scenes, so while Jun practices kissing the female lead, Toma can have a chance to get some fresh air. And he needs it. Both to figure out where to go from here and to quell the jealousy churning in his gut. He knows it’s stupid to be jealous, because Jun will only ever be a friend to him and has never shown any interest in any man his entire career, but it’s habitual. At least he knows better than to act on it. Jun would never forgive him for doing something like that.

He shoves his hands into the pockets on his hoodie, the hood pulled up against the chill in the air and to keep people from noticing him. There are pictures in the newest gossip magazines of him and Jun together, but he doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself at the moment.

Was it the investigation? No, couldn’t be. He knows Jun supports Kira— both of them do, after all— but Jun wouldn’t let his mood sour over something as stupid as the confrontation between L and Kira that was on TV. Besides, if the police are actually any closer to catching Kira, they certainly haven’t said a peep about it. Besides, Jun would know better than to get wrapped up in that, would know that nothing is going to come of it. It has to be something more personal.

Something with his brother? Possibly. Maybe he’s just worried. Supporting Kira is one thing, but he’s probably just concerned about his brother. Shige works for the NPA, is the chief for that matter, which means he’s no doubt working on this case and no doubt in danger of being killed himself. Maybe Jun just has to reconcile how he feels about Kira’s actions with his brother being in danger… Or something. Toma sighs, scrubbing a hand furiously over his face.

“I wish I knew how to help you,” he whispers to himself, his stomach dropping to his feet.

But he doesn’t. He can’t fix this. He can’t bring that familiar smile back to Jun’s face.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He kicks at a stray can on the ground, hardly paying attention to where he’s going beyond making sure he doesn’t bump into a pedestrian as he walks. “You’re just not trying hard enough. You need to try harder for him. He’s clearly upset right now.”

If he just had any idea what it was, then he could go about finding a proper distraction.

He’s really enjoyed the time he’s been able to spend with Jun, their conversation on the way to lunch entirely changing the atmosphere between the two of them. Before, Toma had thought they were friends, but Jun barely ever messaged him back or answered his calls. After that conversation, Jun had been open to talking to him and spending time with him.

Now, he just wants to be alone. Everywhere he walks, it’s like there’s something hovering around him, some dark energy that tells people to stay away from him.

“Or you’re just exaggerating.” Toma shakes his head at himself, giving his phone a glance to make sure he isn’t being called back to set. “You don’t even know him for fuck’s sake.”

Not that he doesn’t want to get to know Jun. He wants that more than anything else.

“He just won’t let me in.” The way his voice chokes makes him shake his head, rapidly blinking his eyes to keep any tears from forming. How would he explain red eyes to the makeup team?

The streets thinning out as far as crowds go while the quality of the infrastructure around him drops should be a warning he needs to turn around and head back. There are parts of the city like this one, parts where people need to be on their guard, not distracted by their emotions because there are people who would take advantage of that distraction here. But Toma hardly notices, barely takes in his surroundings until the atmosphere is too eerily quiet for him.

He skids to a stop and looks around, then frowns. “I didn’t realize I’d come this far,” he murmurs, spinning around on heel. “I’ll just go back. They’ll probably be looking for me, and—”

Again, he stops. This time, it’s not because he’s in unfamiliar terrain but because a familiar face is only a few feet away from him, though he’s not entirely sure what one of the cameramen are doing so far out here. Aren’t they shooting right now? Shouldn’t he be on set? Toma racks his brain for the man’s name, planning on asking him what he’s doing out here, trying to remember what he shoots normally. If someone had needed him back on set, surely they would have called him instead of sending someone out to get him. He’s opening his mouth to ask what he’s needed for when he stops, an uncertain feeling tugging at his gut, a warning on its own. And it takes him a few minutes to realize what seems so off about this situation in the first place.

I’ve been walking for more than fifteen minutes. If he’s right behind me, he’s been following me.

The thought makes him frown, makes a cold chill creep through his veins as he considers the reasons for why someone might follow him. If they needed him back on set, they would have called. If someone was worried for his safety, then one of the security team would have notified him he was coming with him before following him. And certainly, no one would be staring at him with a strangely… Fond expression? Oh, please not that. Anything but that.

“Can I help you with something?” he finally asks, aware of just how alone they are right now.

“You probably don’t know who I am, do you?” The man lifts a hand, patting himself on the chest with it. “No, of course you don’t. You’re one of the actors, I’m just a member of the crew. My name is Tadayoshi Okura. I’ve been watching you the last few weeks.”

“N-no, I’ve noticed you. You’re one of the cameramen.” When Okura’s face lights up, Toma swallows hard. He has to work with this. “You’ve been watching me? Really? Me?”

Okura laughs and takes a few steps closer, and Toma forces himself to stay in place, knowing that retreating may tip this closer to something he doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want to end up running from this man, isn’t confident he could get away from him if he needed to. If he’s caught, he doesn’t know what might happen to him. So he stays still as Okura comes to stand in front of him, stretching a hand out toward him, even though his skin crawls when the man brushes the backs of his fingers against Toma’s cheek lightly, delicately.

“Of course you,” he says, his voice low and soft. “Who else would I be watching, hmm?”

“There are other people in the movie, people prettier than me,” he says, “like Mao. She’s been called one of the most beautiful women in the world, you know, not just Japan. And, well… There’s Jun, of course, he’s the lead of the movie and—”

“Jun Matsumoto.” The smile on Okura’s face drops, his eyes narrowing as he takes another step closer. “Oh, I’ve watched him when he’s with you. You like him, don’t you?”

That is not the direction that Toma wanted this conversation to take, and he doesn’t know what to do with that question, how to answer it. If he lies, and Okura knows he’s lying… He would know. He has to know. Because the way he almost spits Jun’s name out means he’s noticed, and he isn’t happy about it. Toma swallows hard, wanting to inch back out of this man’s reach so he can try to make a run for it without being caught. He might not be as fast but he’s never had to run for his life before and he might not end up with any other options.

“I see the way you look at him, you know. I don’t know if he sees it, but I do.” Okura leans in until he’s almost breathing against Toma’s face and it takes everything in Toma’s power not to rear back, the backs of his eyes stinging, his knees quivering. “I see the way he makes you smile, you know. And I don’t. Fucking. Like it!”

He shouts the last few words, his hand rearing back so fast Toma doesn’t see it coming until stinging pain rings through his face. Staggering backward, he claps a hand over his cheek. The tears threatening to fall gather closer to the front of his eyelids and he bites back a whimper, not sure what to do. He knows he needs to run. He knows he needs to try to get away. Even if he doesn’t succeed, at least he didn’t stand here and let someone hurt him.

His eyes slide right, trying to find the best avenue for escape, but Okura sees. And he lunges forward, the tips of his fingers just shy of being able to grip Toma’s sweatshirt. It’s all the push Toma needs to move, whirling back away from him, cutting a wide arc around him and taking off. His breathing is already off, the fear choking him, a noose around his throat while he pushes himself harder than he ever has before, faster than he ever has before. Okura calls out after him, but he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t have time to turn around. If he loses focus even once, he could lose everything. In retrospect, it might not have mattered if he turned around or not.

It’s been a long time since he’s been tackled so forcefully from behind that he entirely loses his balance, twisting to try to keep from landing on his face. He lands awkwardly on his side instead.

Fast, he was so fast, he thinks, twisting, writhing, trying to get away, putting everything he has into it. He gets one of his legs freed just enough to land a kick to Okura’s gut, relishing in the grunt he makes, trying to squirm out of his hold. “Please stop,” he squeaks out, his vision blurring wet around the edges, hands scrabbling for purchase on the pavement. “Please let me go!”

“Why, so you can run back to him?” Okura catches his wrists and rolls him onto his back, pins Toma firmly to the pavement. He’s strong, too strong, Toma can’t get away. “I’m not going to let that happen. We’re going to be happy together, you and I. I’ve thought so much about it.”

The thought is revolting and Toma squirms and bucks beneath him, trying for freedom, for something, for anything. He’s not expecting the hand around his throat, the one that squeezes and presses down, cutting off his already labored breathing. He doesn’t even have enough oxygen to scream, not really, but he gives as good as he gets, clawing at Okura’s chest, at his face, willing him to let go even as his chest burns and his lungs strain. He can’t get him to let go. He can’t get him to let go and he’s going to die like this. He’s going to die in the street because he was stupid enough to walk somewhere he shouldn’t have, and he didn’t even get to tell Jun—

When Okura stiffens up above him, Toma doesn’t know what’s happening. When Okura falls off of him onto the pavement, eerily still, Toma doesn’t think. He crawls away until his back hits a wall.

And then he screams when something thwaps on the ground next to him.

It takes him a few minutes to calm down enough to realize that Okura isn’t moving, and that the object next to him is… A notebook? Frowning, he reaches for it, fingers brushing over the cover.

“There is no reason to be afraid, mortal,” an eerily calm voice murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

“Who was—” Toma’s voice dies in his throat when he twists around, finding the strange silver creature leaning over him. “W-what… What are… Who are you?”

“My name is Tikbalang.” One large, clawed hand stretches out to pet his hair. “I am a shinigami.”

He should be afraid. Logic says he should be afraid. But he tears his eyes away long enough to reach for the notebook, certain it has something to do with all of this. Maybe he’s too high on adrenaline to focus on the fact there’s some kind of monster next to him. Maybe he’s too shaken from nearly dying. But the notebook is at least familiar, and near, and so he grasps it, fumbles it, watches it fall open to a black page with strange white text written on the paper.

“What…” He stops himself from picking it back up, squinting at the words. “I… Is this a joke?”

“Turn to the first white page in the notebook and you can see for yourself if it is a joke.” The shinigami— Tikbalang— murmurs. “That is the Death Note, and those whose names are written on its pages will die. Now, see whose name is written on the first page.”

With trembling hands, Toma picks the notebook back up, flipping through the black until he finds smooth, much more familiar white. His eyes don’t see it at first, his focus barely tight enough to keep him in one place when all he wants to do is run, but he freezes when he sees the name written in messy text. Tadayoshi Okura. Slowly, he drags his eyes up away from the page. Had that been what happened to Okura, then? A heart attack, like the first page claimed?

“This notebook is now yours,” Tikbalang informs him, and Toma twists around to look up at him, mouth working but no words leaving it. “You are fit to use it as you so desire.”

It takes a moment for it to settle in that someone had written this man’s name in the notebook. Someone had written Okura’s name on this page… To kill him? To kill him, to save Toma’s life, and as his head drops back against the wall, he finally allows himself a chance to cry.

He has the forethought to tuck the notebook away into his jacket before he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and dials. “J-Jun? I… I know y-you’re on set right now I just…” He exhales shakily, rubbing at his wet eyes with his sleeve. “I’m so s-sorry. I just need help.”

#arashi #toma ikuta #jun matsumoto #death note crossover #*f: mine #*f: i was king #*f: arashi #*f: toma #*f: matsujun #*f: okura

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