Chapter Text
Yomi avoided the question, as if he had not heard it. But Makoto, worried, was not about to let it slide.
“Yomi. When was the last time you fed yourself with real food needed to allow your body to work properly?”
Once again, Yomi was avoiding the answer. He simply thought Makoto would get angry at him, yell, give him an even more annoying punishment, but he had not expected his next action ; Makoto had grabbed his wrist, worry clear in his voice. Unfortunately, Yomi’s body reacted before Makoto could notice it, and he ended up with a hurting cheek, despite his mask, and butt first on the marble tiles of his floor.
“Do not touch me!” Yomi yelled in a dangerous voice.
Makoto was astonished. He had not seen Yomi this angry since what happened in the laboratory when he got arrested. Thinking about it, it was the two only times he had seen Yomi like that, which worried him. He could understand the anger when the events unfolded in the laboratory. But barely anything happened now, and he could not understand what had provoked such a reaction from his fellow homunculus.
“Are you alright?”
“Do. Not. Touch me.”
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry Yomi, I won’t touch you again. But please answer my question.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Yomi, please. I’m worried about you.”
“And you shouldn’t. I’m fine, I ate yesterday. And you and I aren’t friends, don’t worry about me, that’s gross. We are not close. Just because we are the same ‘species’ doesn’t mean you can befriend me.”
Ouch. Makoto knew how Yomi felt about their relationship. But that still hurts. He knew Yomi didn’t really have any friends nor people he loved either, but that hurt. He knew he was the only one wanting to be friends, but that still hurt, even coming from Yomi. Maybe it was just reinforced by the fact he was already feeling like shit before coming out of the bathroom, but it hurt.
“I know, but… Yomi, you and I both know you’re lying. Your skin is lighter than usual. It’s proof your body is reacting to a lack of nutrients.”
“You’re just imagining things.”
“Yomi-”
Makoto had tried to stand back up and reach for Yomi, but the latter yelled again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I did not intend to touch you, I just tried to reach for you as a reflex.”
For the second time tonight, there was a silence sitting between the two. Except this time, it was heavy and uneasy.
I… I can’t even explain it to him. Someone like him would not understand what it feels like. He would just… … Actually, maybe he is the only one I can explain it to. He already calls me a freak anyways. Knowing about my secret wouldn’t change much about our relationship. Whereas the others, I’m not really close enough to tell them, and Martina, she would probably think I’m weird. Which I sure am. But still… Hm. I guess I can try. What could go wrong?
Taking a light yet deep and soundless breath, Makoto put back on his usual cheerful sing-song tone, and looked at Yomi.
“Wanna learn a big secret of mine~?”
Yomi knew that Makoto was finally about to tell him what had been bugging him for the past hour or so. But he also knew that meant he’d have to answer Makoto’s question.
As for Makoto, he knew Yomi would finally answer his question, even if he had to let out his biggest secret for that. Even if Yomi would act as if he did not care.
“Sure, I don’t care, as long as I can drink my glass of rum in peace. Speaking of which, give me a drink.”
Makoto rolled his eyes behind his mask. Yomi could be really annoying sometimes, just to hide that he could be genuinely nice when he wanted to. But he obeyed, fetching a glass, a bottle of rum and some ice cubes for Yomi, which he placed on the table, in front of one of his sofas.
“Take a-... I mean, you can have a seat, if you want. It’s probably better than standing up in the kitchen while I speak from the living room, comfortably seated.”
Yomi smirked at the correction. He would have become angry again if Makoto had ordered him to ‘take a seat’, rather than suggesting him to do so. Furthermore, Makoto was right. Sofas were more comfortable than standing up.
“Alright. You have until I finish my glass to tell your little story.
“Have you ever heard of dysphoria?”
Yomi raised an eyebrow, looking at Makoto, while rum was slowly sliding down his throat.
“I figured so. Well. It’s… How should I put it… It’s like your body isn’t really yours.”
“Hm? If you can feel it, touch it and move it, it’s your body.”
He knew it. Trying to explain to Yomi what dysphoria felt like wasn’t going to be easy.
“It’s not that easy, Yomi. Hm. What do you see when you look in a mirror?”
“Well, obviously I would see my reflection. What are you getting at, masked man?”
How could he explain it to Yomi? Maybe describing what it feels like would help.
“Alright, forget what I said. Picture this : your body is exactly as you know it, but everytime you look at a mirror, it’s my reflection you can see.”
“Gross.”, Yomi winced.
“Exactly. It feels gross, because your body does not correlate with how you feel it should? As if the face you see in the mirror is the real you, but what you feel is the real you, is your current face. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”
Yomi was stirring his drink, reflecting on Makoto’s words. He could understand them, but somehow, they did not make a lot of sense to him. He could barely picture the idea.
“Not really.”
Makoto sighed. He had no idea what else to say to make Yomi understand what he felt. Could the man even empathise with another living being? Makoto wasn’t even sure anymore. And trying to explain things to Yomi was starting to make himself feel sick again.
For the next ten or so minutes, only the rain drops hitting the windows could be heard through the silence. Until the two ice cubes in Yomi’s glass collided together as he put the recipient down.
“However, what I do get is that you hate your body. But then, wouldn’t a change of clothes or some surgery change that? It’s not that hard, especially with the amount of money and power you have as Amaterasu’s CEO. … Which should have been mine. … I’m still planning to make you regret it, I hope you remember that.”
Makoto shivered. He knew placing Yomi under house arrest and still allowing him to visit wasn’t a good idea. But he was in need of company. And he needed to surveil the man. Which was bound to fail sooner or later with just the Peacekeepers. Moreover, it was also the best way he could find to make the ex director pay for his acts ; death would be too easy and, quite frankly, Makoto did not wish Yomi’s death, and in prison he would simply terrorise the guards and the other inmates.
But, more importantly, he was the only one remaining to care enough about Yomi’s diet and not let him become malnourished. With everything he’s done, nobody would care enough to prevent Yomi from dying of hunger. Except for him. And since Yomi was adamant on not eating anything else than meat buns for his needed nutrients, it wasn’t an easy task.
Ever since he managed to discover the truth about the meat buns, —way before Makoto made his big announcement— Yomi had become obsessed, addicted even, to them. Of course, he was eating a large variety of different food, like everyone else. But not when it came down to what his homunculus body truly needed. It was meat buns or nothing. Even if “nothing” meant he would get sick. Which had already happened in the past.
Makoto sighed as he took a cushion to get more comfortable and hide himself behind. At least, Yomi had the big picture. But it wasn’t that easy. In his case, dysphoria would not fade away, unless his entire body was to change.
“It’s not that easy. If you hate your hair, you can grow it longer or make it shorter, change the colour. For your eyes, you can wear coloured lenses, but not even all day, and that would not change the shape of your eyes. You could change your height with platform shoes if you wanted to be taller, but there’s a limit to how much you can ‘grow’. You could change clothes and still feel bad. And, as for surgery, you could, but is it really worth it? Hurting and mutilating yourself for results you’re not certain about? If I was sure it would make me feel better, if it was just for one part of my body, I would probably have done it already. But I can’t change my whole body. It’s… just not possible, unfortunately.”
As he was talking, tears had started running down Makoto’s cheeks, behind his mask. Why was he even telling all that to someone? And why Yomi? Why had he hoped the man would understand him?
Makoto had hid his masked face in the cushion, slowly starting to shake, distressed. He had been stupid to let it out.
“Then, you just have to keep trying until you feel better.”
Makoto was not ready to lift his head from the cushion. Not even when a tiny object collided with his hair.
What is that?
Blindly reaching out to the object, Makoto was surprised to understand what it was. Why was Yomi of all people, in possession of such a thing?
And as if he had heard Makoto’s mind, the red hair answered his silent question.
“It was Martina’s. She used to tie her hair sometimes. I just remembered it was in my pocket. You can throw it in the bin, I don't need it.”
Makoto slightly lifted his head from the cushion. There was no use for Yomi to throw him the hair tie, he could dispose of it himself, had he wanted to. If it was in his pocket, he had to know it had been there for a while. Then why didn’t he get rid of it way earlier? Was he, despite everything he said and showed, actually a bit attached to Martina? But then, why give it out to his worst enemy? What if…
Makoto tried his best to tie his hair. For some reason, he had never tried to work with his longer hair. He had always just let it grow without a goal in mind, except to try and look different from his original model.
Now completely lifting his head from the pillow, Makoto looked at Yomi. The man had changed his position to lay on the sofa, hands behind his head and looking towards the ceiling.
“What do I look like?”, asked Makoto in an almost sing-song voice.
Yomi took a quick look at Makoto before redirecting it back to the ceiling.
“Different.”
Well, at least, it wasn’t exactly a negative answer. But it wasn’t exactly a positive one either.
As bad as it could end up, Makoto was a bit curious to know what he looked like with his hair pulled up. Curiosity quickly took over, and with Yomi not bothered to keep the conversation going, Makoto decided to go check his reflection in the bathroom’s mirror. Turns out Yomi’s idea wasn’t that bad after all. For once Makoto almost thought that he looked good. It was indeed different. But not in a bad way. He could get used to it. But he would need to learn how to tie it up properly.
A small smile spreading on his lips, Makoto went back to his living room. However, he had not anticipated what he was seeing.
“Yomi?”
Not even looking at him, Yomi explained himself.
“It’s too darn hot in your house. I just made myself comfortable and got rid of my jacket.”
But you still kept your shoes? And your tie? And why throw your jacket on my sofa?
Makoto wanted to ask those questions out loud, but that could have provoked Yomi’s wrath.
“You’ll wash it tomorrow anyways.”
Makoto raised an eyebrow behind his mask. Washing Yomi’s jacket? Did he really take him for his personal maid?
Annoyed by Yomi’s unreasonable request and as a way to avenge himself, Makoto put on Yomi’s jacket. It was way too big for him, but it felt strangely nice. It was hiding his body very well. And now that he was thinking about it…
Turning his gaze to Yomi, he could see the man, eyes closed and with a smirk on his face.
“See? There’s no way I’d wear something you also wore, you freak. So it will be cleaned tomorrow. And since I don’t plan on going home without it, you’ll have no choice than to wash it yourself.”
Makoto sighed, amused. Yomi really had purposefully acted so Makoto would wear his jacket to feel better. There really was a kinder side to the man after all. But Makoto knew he’d have to act annoyed or annoying, so that Yomi wouldn’t feel like he had been nice to someone. Even though both of them knew it was the case.
Really, Yomi’s antics were starting to grow on him the more he got to know him. He wondered if Martina had ever gotten to see that side of him. Maybe she did but never understood the reality behind the acts. This idea made Makoto feel somewhat privileged.
“Well, although I do agree for you to wash it here. Why should I do it myself? It’s still yours.”
“You touched it. That’s gross. So you wash it.”
“I also touched that glass of rum, you know?”
“... Shut the fuck up.”
As he spoke, Yomi had turned his face to shoot daggers at Makoto, with his eyes.
The man shrugged and sighed, half amused, half done with the other’s antics.
“I guess I could put it in the washing-machine, alone, and let you retrieve it. How does that sound?”
Yomi did not reply, simply turning his face back to the ceiling.
“Right. I take it as an agreement. Now, I think you still haven’t answered my question from earlier.”
“I have no obligation to answer.”
“That’s not nice... And to think I even told you about my biggest secret.”
“You did this to yourself. I didn’t ask for anything.”
Although it was true that Yomi didn’t verbally ask, they both knew his look and actions had betrayed him.
“What would even be the point in me saying it? If I ate recently, there’s no problem. If I didn’t, you’ll shout, thinking yourself to be my mother. In both cases, there’s no point for me to say it.”
And, once again, Yomi was right. Was Makoto really that tired to let Yomi win this often tonight? He did have a trump card that would make Yomi answer. But he had intended to pull it out when asking something for something the man wouldn’t agree to otherwise. Meaning he would have to forget about one thing or the other.
“Alright, forget my question. I have a request to make. But before that…”
Makoto was biting the inside of his lower lip behind his mask. There was no way Yomi would agree to what he was about to ask.
“Before that, I need you to know that I’m planning to work on a new formula to recreate the texture and taste of those meat buns you liked. Just for you, since I doubt anyone else would be happy to go back to eating these. You will be able to have it instead of the noodles. It won’t be real human flesh, but you won’t feel nor taste the difference. You’ll just know they are not the same. …”
Yomi was now intrigued, totally focused on Makoto, and slightly worried. What was that freak about to ask that forced him to go to this extra length?
“Of course, I will also let you eat them in public if you want to. And I’ll concretise the research of the formula… if you agree to what I’ll ask you next.”
Just in case he would need to react quickly, either to punch Makoto in the face, or flee, Yomi had sat back up.
Makoto had also anticipated Yomi’s answer and had taken some more distance to be able to either hide himself quicker, or defend himself if needed.
“I would like you to sleep with me.”
A heavy atmosphere quickly fell upon them, accompanied by silence which was soon broken by a furious and loud “What?!” escaping Yomi’s mouth.
“You. Want. To. WHAT?!” Yomi had stood up in a hurry, rushing towards Makoto to punch him.
“I know it sounded very wrong, but I didn’t mean it that way, please let me explain myself!”
Yomi had grabbed Makoto by his purple jacket —that he was still wearing underneath Yomi’s own jacket— and was about to punch him as he spoke. His fist, ready to be launched, was shaking in anger, his eyes had narrowed, his teeth were clenched and his nose was wrinkled with anger.
“You have ten seconds. One more and I’ll punch you.”
“I meant just sleeping in the same bed or on the same sofa. Nothing intimate. Nothing sexual.”
Yomi had not changed his posture, nor did his expression change.
“That’s too fuckin close, you damned freak.”
“I mean, you are already pretty clo-”
Makoto did not have the time to finish his sentence that his butt met the floor after Yomi’s fist collided with his half-masked cheek.
“Ouch… That’s deserved I think-”
“You THINK?! I’ll punch you more if you only “think” that it was deserved.”
Makoto raised his arms up, trying to protect his masked-face.
“Before you punch me again, please listen to me. Is my offer really not en-... Of course it isn’t enough… Alright, I consent to let you do anything you want, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else in Kanai Ward. Added to the meat buns offer, naturally.”
Yomi, who had previously been about to launch another punch at Makoto, stopped in his tracks.
“Anything?”
“Anything. As long as it does not involve another resident.”
“You’re not included in “resident”, right?”
“I am not.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Makoto looked up at Yomi. For the first time tonight, his infamous wicked smile was back on his face as he let out a laugh.
Did he just make a deal with the devil? He knew with his offer that he was about to know Hell. He knew Yomi would probably have part of his vengeance. But it was fine. It was worth it. Or so he tried to convince himself. He couldn’t let himself be this weak and needy with anyone else. Of course Yomi hated it, as anyone would from someone like him. But at least, since Yomi hated him, he was also the only one he could ask that to. The only one who wouldn’t start to hate him just for being weird.
“Alright then. But you’ll have to content yourself with the sofa. There’s no way I’d go in a bed with you.”
Despite his anger being still audible, there was now joy in Yomi’s voice. He hated the prospect of having to sleep close to Makoto, but getting to do what he wanted, and get his meat buns back was enough to convince him to endure the man for the night.
While Makoto got back up, dusting himself, Yomi went laying back down on his sofa.
For a few seconds, not knowing what to do, Makoto awkwardly stood still. Until Yomi ordered him to turn off the light and come to the sofa. To which he obeyed, unsure.
“So, how do we- ah!”
Yomi had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled Makoto towards him.
“Shut up before I change my mind. If I hear you, so much as breathing too loud, I’ll kill you.”
Makoto did not reply, now laying down on his stomach, on top of Yomi. He had not anticipated his reaction, but he wasn’t complaining.
Hearing Yomi’s soft breathing, feeling his chest go up and down against his own, and the warmth of his body made Makoto feel comfortable, serene even. And despite the fact that Yomi had wanted to kill him earlier, their current position made him feel safe.
So this was what someone else’s warmth feels like, huh? Who knew it felt so nice? It’s actually making me sleepy… I don’t want to move. It’s nice. I, feel nice.
“Do we agree that you’re basically immortal?”
Makoto frowned. He already had an idea what Yomi wanted to do, but his question was the proof he needed to be sure. Getting more comfortable on Yomi, Makoto sighed.
He had been ready for this outcome the very instant he pronounced his offer, but the warmth he was feeling right now was far over compensating his fear. He will have to handle it tomorrow anyway.
But for now, the only thing he had to do was to enjoy the moment and peacefully fall into a much needed slumber.