Work Text:
Russia Sushi wasn't one to get visitors while closing.
Catching the curtains rustle out of the corner of his eye, Denis called out, "We're closed," only to stop what he was doing when he saw who was standing in the entrance way. As always, Simon was the one to beat him to the follow up, meeting their guest halfway and saying, "Take a seat." Not a trace of his cheerful demeanor could be found.
With some hesitation, their visitor obeyed. In Russian, Simon said, "I take it you've heard the news."
Vorona said nothing as she faced Simon. When he looked back at her, all he could see was the lost child who had come to him and Denis in hopes of training under them all those years ago; the child, so overwhelmed with emotion, she had no way to express it other than through getting blood on her hands. When he looked at her, he saw the woman who feared having the meaning of her life negated, but, more than anything, feared returning home to the man she had only ever seen the back of.
Her fear was gone. All that remained was the lost child she had started as.
Smiling with care, Simon told her, "It's okay."
As the world spun around outside, Russia Sushi stood eerily still.
. . .
When Vorona had returned home, she had been, perhaps for the first time in her life, hopeful. Finally, she had a chance to understand and make amends with her father. She had a purpose and a place to belong, two things she had spent her whole life without. Her flight home had been a comfort to her. Whereas the last time she had been on a plane she was fleeing from home, now she was returning with her head held high, Slon right by her side.
The chill of Drakon's gaze when he saw her again was enough to tell her everything she needed to know.
"Father," she said one day, willing him to just listen. "I believe I have underwent a metamorphosis in my time away. I am no longer a child."
"You haven't changed at all."
He hadn't slapped her this time, but he might as well have. "I request that you listen to what I have to say. Please—"
"I need to meet up with Lingerin," Drakon replied firmly, sliding his coat on and turning his back to her. "Don't follow me."
Another door closed right in her face. That little spark of hope she had held onto gradually simmered into nothingness, leaving her right back where she started. Perhaps her father had been right. She hadn't changed. Everything she had felt had been nothing more than a lie. Working with Shizuo and Tom, exploring the city, the thrill of for once, just existing, especially in a city like Ikebukuro...in the end, it all meant nothing, she had decided.
Following her conversation with Drakon, Vorona bid her childhood home goodbye for the final time. She threw her helmet on, mounted her motorcycle, and rode off into the night without looking back. She had no destination; she would simply go wherever the road took her - preferably as far as it could. This was the only way she could express the torment inside of her. She did have another option, of course, but her time in Ikebukuro would really mean nothing if she went back to that Vorona: the Vorona who had killed over one hundred people, who was one of Russia's most feared serial killers, the crow in the dark night who left only death and destruction in her wake.
She drove back. Without a second thought, she followed the all too familiar roads to what had once been her and Slon's hideout. Sure enough, he was there waiting as if he had known.
"Welcome back," Slon greeted her with a crooked smile and a gun.
Two criminal organizations collapsed that night.
Fear had plagued her just hours before, and now there was not a trace of it to be found. The sensation of having a gun in her hand felt so right. This was who she was. Her first kill of the night had been far too easy to bring her joy, but following that, a smile slowly crept onto her face. Dodging bullets, throwing knives, setting off explosives, testing human strength...this was Nastasya Voronin.
He was right.
. . .
"Why did you start fighting again?" Slon asked her one night as they sat positioned on a rooftop, a sniper rifle in Vorona's hands. Drakon had gained a new enemy while they had been gone, and Varona convinced herself she wasn't going to take them down for his sake but for her own, however Sloan's inquisitive nature once again got the best of both of them.
Her eyes didn't leave the reticle. "I lacked any other options."
Slon laughed; a weak, yet taunting laugh. "You had a choice. Isn't that why you came back?"
"You say that, and yet you offered me weapons swiftly."
"You took them," said Slon. "You're addicted. And you were delusional. That city got to your head." Noticing movement in the distance, he retrieved a handgun and fired into the darkness. Moments later, Varona heard what would be described only as a sickening crunch to anyone else. "We're assassins, Vorona. This is a life you have until you die."
Vorona scowled, her thoughts wandering to the now pacifistic Simon and Denis, living more or less peacefully far from what was once their home, though she said nothing. A man came into the view of her reticle, and after waiting for the right moment, she fired. Vorona watched with a straight face as a man's now lifeless body slumped to the ground, the pool of his blood obscured from her view. She felt nothing as she pulled the trigger again, shooting a man who had cried out upon seeing his comrade fall. She felt nothing, but she couldn't stop. What good was an assassin who couldn't complete a mission? Perhaps Slon was right. This was the life she'd have until she died.
What once made her feel whole now made her nothing more than an empty shell.
. . .
Knowing that her father was dead was perhaps the most perplexing thing Vorona had experienced. She couldn't necessarily say that she loved him, or that he loved her. After years of never being enough, she felt a weight lifted off of her shoulders, and yet, part of her almost felt guilty.
"Don't follow me." The last words she would ever hear him say to her. Even after all this time, even after struggling and growing more than she could have ever expected to, she still couldn't reach him. Now, she never could.
Am I weak? She asked herself yet again. Had I gone after him, would a different outcome have occurred?
Death had never been this personal to her before. So many had fallen at her hands, and she had never felt a thing. All sorts of emotions she couldn't name suffocated her. Everything had been falling into place. She was working with Shizuo and Tom again, she had made a friend and eventually something more in Namie, and she could simply exist, as she had always wanted.
Once again, she was lost.
. . .
Working in a restaurant in Ikebukuro had allowed Simon to meet all sorts of people from all walks of life in his time there. He was no stranger to these sorts of deep conversations, due in part to some of Russia Sushi's regulars, though this was perhaps the first time he was so closely tied to all parties involved. What was normally casual guidance and comfort became a necessity for the woman who had never needed someone more in her life than now.
Simon's opinion of the man he had known only as Drakon had always been lukewarm at best, so he supposed he was almost as conflicted as Vorona. She said nothing of her time back in Russia to him, and yet, her eyes, so reminiscent of her father's, told him everything he needed to know. In spite of the distance between her and her father, losing him was more than enough to tear her heart in two.
"Am I weak?" She had asked following her defeat at the hands of Akabayashi.
"You're weaker than old man Drakon," Denis had replied, to which Simon added, "But that's not something for us to decide."
How he wished Varona wouldn't base her worth off of her strength. He had seen far too many a soul do that in this city, often to disastrous results. Why so many felt the need to fight to the death in this peaceful country was beyond him, someone who had seen enough blood and guts for a lifetime. That was ultimately what had led Drakon to his demise; he was married to his unsavory work.
"Nastasya," Simon brought himself to begin after a long silence. Vorona tensed at the use of her given name, and at Simon's choice of speaking in Russian. "Strength is not something that is purely physical. Like humans, it is more complex than one might think."
"I am still weak," Vorona murmured, hardly above a whisper. "My father was right; I am still a child. I have failed to change."
"But that doesn't mean you never will."
Something shattered inside this already broken woman, and Simon's first instinct was to reach out to her - though with Vorona, he knew better. He would have to do this on her terms.
The last time Vorona had been in someone's embrace was when she had killed someone for the very first time. After all these years, she couldn't keep herself distant any longer. With Simon's arms held out to her, she accepted the gesture and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. Simon might have been intimidating with his size, but Vorona felt nothing but comfort. Was this what the embrace of a parent felt like, she wondered? It had been so long, she had nearly forgotten.
"You're not alone, in this city," said Simon. "There are so many others like you, and I hope one day you'll find comfort in knowing that."
"Thank you, Semyon."
Simon met her with a smile before lifting his head up, searching for Denis. Calling out to him in Japanese, he said, "Denis! Join us!"
"Don't try anything," Denis replied. "I do have a knife."
Sulking, Simon whispered just loud enough for Denis to hear, "He no fun."
Vorona once again found herself astonished at how thoughtful and articulate Simon could be in Russian, yet the exact opposite in Japanese. Finally, she managed to pry herself away from him, getting up and making her way towards the exit.
"Eat sushi next time!" Simon called after her.
He didn't get a chance to see her small smile.
. . .
"Testing human strength?" Shizuo repeated Vorona's statement, and, with a hint of a laugh, added, "You almost sound like Izaya."
When Vorona frowned, he averted his eyes, shifting his focus to clumsily twirling the straw of his milkshake as he tried to get back on topic. "There's this dojo that Akane goes to: Rakuei Gym. Maybe you could be an instructor there?"
"A dojo?" Vorona asked, putting her chin in her hand in thought, mindlessly watching the passersby just outside of Lottalia. Simon's words played in the back of her mind as she watched, leaving her to take a moment to add, "That might be my solution."
"I can try and talk to the boss about rescheduling your hours if you need me to," Tom offered. "Y'know, if you'd be up for having two jobs."
Vorona nodded. "I will have to see. Shizuo-senpai, will you take me to this dojo tonight?"
"Yeah, sure thing." Vorona found herself puzzled by his oddly prideful smile.
Once they had finished their lunch break, the trio set back out onto the streets. They fortunately only ran into two problems during the remainder of the work day — a man who tried to run away, and another who tried to hit on Vorona. So, so many men in the city had made that mistake, Vorona had realized.
Well, they did collect for a dating website.
Just like every other man before him, this one ended up on the ground, Vorona's heel threatening to crush his spine (or at the very least, attempt to) with one wrong move.
"You don't have to beat them all up, you know," Tom said as they left the man's apartment behind them. "You're wasting your energy."
"They deserve it," Shizuo murmured, earning what was almost a glare from Tom, though it promptly turned into a laugh.
"I never said they didn't."
Sighing, Vorona said, "They are frustrating. However, fighting...it is the reason I exist."
"All the more reason for you to go to that dojo," Shizuo said innocuously.
Sure enough, Shizuo kept his promise. Once their shift ended, the pair bid farewell to Tom and Vorona followed Shizuo to the other side of town, her attention fixated on their favorite bakery as they passed and her disappointment immeasurable. Maybe tomorrow.
If her eyes could have burned holes through Shizuo's back, they would have. Anger bubbled up inside of her, not at him, but herself, as she struggled to string her words together. She knew what she wanted to say, but couldn't quite figure out how to say it.
"There are so many others like you, and I hope one day you'll find comfort in knowing that."
Swallowing her pride, Vorona finally said, "Senpai, if I can confide in you regarding something personal..."
. . .
If there was anyone Vorona was expecting to see at Rakuei Gym, it certainly wasn't the woman she had fought alongside Kujiragi Kasane.
"It's you!" A slightly shocked Mikage said. Smiling, she added, "Small world, huh."
Somewhat reluctantly, Vorona explained her thoughts to Mikage, often looking to Shizuo for reassurance, much to her distaste. Why was she so worried? This could be what she needed; that next step to finally accepting herself, to peacefully existing in this city she had grown to call home.
"We're assassins, Vorona. This is a life you have until you die."
"We've always been more of a family business," Mikage said. "Though we are getting more students, and I don't remember you being half bad. I'll talk to my brother about it."
Vorona bowed her head. "Thank you."
With a wave of her hand, Mikage said her farewells as she left to search for Eijirou. Curious about just who this woman was, Vorona watched her go, her attention solely on Mikage until she felt someone bump into her from behind. Vorona immediately turned on her heel, hands up and ready to make the first move until she got a glimpse of her assailant.
"Y-You!" Awakusu Akane cried out, pointing at her. From behind her came the Orihara twins, curiously eyeing Vorona.
"Curious," Kururi mumbled, while Mairu practically yelled, "Vorona-san! Please, let me kiss you this time-"
"What the hell are you two doing back here?"
Shizuo sighed, relieved that he hadn't needed to say a word to the twins. Meanwhile, Mairu flinched at the sound of Eijirou's voice, meeting him with a nervous smile. "Master! Akane-chan left something behind, so we came with her!"
Mikage lightly smacked the back of her brother's head as she walked by. "Don't talk to your students like that."
Shizuo and Vorona exchanged glances, and just like that, they excused themselves, leaving the now rather chaotic scene in the gym behind. Cracking a smile, Shizuo asked, "Are you sure you want to work there?"
Straight-faced as always, Vorona replied, "I will do what I must."
. . .
"Vorona!"
She should've known Simon wouldn't let her know peace once she returned to Russia Sushi. A few days had passed since her last visit so she thought in that time he might have calmed down - though evidently not.
"You eat sushi this time, yes?" Simon continued, grinning from ear to ear. "And you bring Tom-san and Shi-zu-o!" Shizuo and Tom nodded in greeting, not having a chance to say much as Simon turned to Denis. "Make them best sushi!"
"Go get us more customers," Denis snapped. Simon immediately exited the building, fliers in hand.
Chuckling, Tom said, "He's awfully happy. Did something happen?"
Denis shook his head. "He just has a soft spot for your little crow."
"Crow?" Shizuo and Tom asked in unison, to which Vorona briefed them on the meaning of her name. "It's oddly fitting," Tom replied, earning a curious look from Vorona.
"It was your mother's code name, you know," Denis said.
Vorona felt her body freeze up, the sensation bringing her back to the last time she spoke to her father. A strange wariness surged through her being, a foreign feeling that brought her to ask for the first time ever, "What was my mother li—"
"One more customer!" Simon exclaimed, parting the curtains to reveal a shivering Namie, frozen even with a sweater, pants, and her lab coat on.
"Have room for one more?"
. . .
He had never seen Vorona smile before, Simon realized in that moment. There was no mistaking it, however; as Namie took her seat beside Vorona, she had undoubtedly smiled. Simon wanted to say a word, but didn't dare. (Partly because Denis was glaring at him.)
Seeing her finally surrounded by people who cared about her was all he had ever wanted for her. He had never wanted to teach her how to fight, but she had needed to know how to survive in the world they came from, the world she had been thrust into as no more than a child.
She was going to be okay.