Chapter Text
It ended in the rain.
Shepherd One and Two were once a whirlwind that swept through the CID, with a clear determination and an utter disregard for how things are done. In mere days of their employment, they had the entire department convinced they're insane and had Chief Shimotsuki popping antacids like candy. It would be hilarious if Irie weren't assigned to Division One.
They're old school in odd ways: like how their investigations are built upon deductions based on hunches and guesswork. They frequently refuse to use the technology offered to them; ignoring the drones, turning off the holographic projections and instead, employ old police techniques that would be more at home in a period crime drama.
What made it all stranger is how the inspectors care little about policing people's crime coefficient, and prescribe to looking into laws already broken instead. They'd fit right into the early twentieth century and yet they have no shame in how they act, or in the techniques they employ.
The enforcers of Division One had every intention of messing with them in the beginning. Thoughts of mutiny didn't last long, though; the inspectors were always two steps ahead and beyond that, are stupidly competent at their jobs.
Besides possessing a clear hue and the intelligence needed for an inspector at the bureau, they're physically strong in ways that are always discouraged at the CID. Violence, after all, can negatively impair a person's mental health and yet, it doesn't seem to matter to them. They fight well enough that they don't need enforcers for muscle or a dominator for insurance.
They're weird - weird in that remarkably interesting way that gets under Irie's skin and manages to hold his attention. Because Shindo and Ignatov's modus operandi shouldn't work, and it doesn't take him long to see that it wouldn't if they weren't completely in agreement with it, and each other.
It didn't last; it ended in the rain.
No one needed to tell Irie that the world is unfair. He grew up in squalor; in an abandoned zone. His childhood was spent playing with the threat of latent criminality and the knowledge that he had no future in society. People like to think that things happen for a reason, to allow them some belief that things will work out in their favour. Irie knows better. He, after all, didn't need to become an enforcer to have seen the absolute worst of humanity. He lived it.
Against Irie's better instincts, he grew to like his inspectors and their ways of doing things. He began to settle into the routine they set, even if workdays became unpredictable with the cases Division One fell into. Irie starts to care just in time for Ignatov's first suspension, and then his disappearance. It's one thing after the next with Shepherd Two and although it's not the man's fault that he got captured, his action once returning is.
Ignatov spends more time on leave during his employment than working, and Shindo pays for it. There just aren't enough qualified people to fill the role Ignatov leaves, not even temporarily, and Shindo has to pick up the slack by juggling the cases and the bureau's demands and the enforcers' needs. But Shindo can't be everywhere at once; he's human too. He begins to work overtime and starts to look more and more exhausted. The enforcers take turns staying with him, to make sure they don't arrive in the morning to find their Shepherd One collapsed on the floor.
(Because it would be a lie if the enforcers weren't worried about looking after Shindo without Ignatov. They didn't know how to manage Shindo's abilities. They didn't know how Ignatov's able to wake him up when he goes into one of his trances. Hinakawa tries researching mentalists but none of them are confident, even if they all read up on the information Hinakawa gives them.)
In the end, Shindo has changes of clothes in his desk drawers. A spare toothbrush in a cup on a shelf by his desk. It's become a habit that none of the enforcers know what to do about. With how little Shindo goes back to his house, it's easy to calculate the amount of sleep he's getting. None of them complain when he falls asleep in the car anymore, or push him away when he inevitably slumps into the sap that's sat next to him.
Division One bands together. They become a team. Something that works in Ignatov's absence. Maybe that's why Irie didn't properly see the tension when Shepherd Two returned. Or maybe none of them predicted it because of how ridiculous it is.
It ends in the rain. The things they were trying to build, and what they had created before joining the CID washing away that terrible evening.
Shepherd One and Two's partnership were ranked "D" by Sibyl; the lowest rating out of the inspectors at the CID. They wouldn't have been assigned together, if they hadn't requested that they be able to. For whatever reason - despite their history ,that saw the loss of Arata's father and Ignatov's brother, they trusted each other.
Trust like that wasn't meant to be so easily destroyed and yet -
It ends in the rain. In that downpour, after that awful case that just spiralled from more awful cases. Irie remembers how his feet felt frozen to the floor as he watches as Shindo is punched to the ground. Ignatov pounced on Shindo, straddling his partner in some sick parody of a lover's touch as he grabs fistfuls of Shindo's uniform to shake.
'Why did Maiko get dragged into this?!' Ignatov demands like Shindo is at all accountable for what happened. Like it's his fault that all their collective probing finally infuriated the wasps nest they discovered. Shindo is quiet, maybe stunned as he stared up at Ignatov. 'Say something!'
Through the violence and Ignatov's blame - his fury and his grief, Shindo stays still and defenceless. Irie doesn't remember the last time he thought of Shepherd One as small, until Irie sees him splayed across the ground, looking at his partner with what can only be described as heartbreak.
'I won't make excuses,' Shindo eventually utters weakly, voice cracking like he's seconds away from crying. It's horrible.
It ends in the rain.
Irie feels powerless and he knows he's not the only one. That night, when Ignatov is sent away by the chief for psychological care, Shindo just - disappears. Irie tries not to feel too concerned about it. What can he do? Nothing. As an Enforcer, he can't even leave the CID premises without one of his Shepherds. He makes his hole in the rect room, and is eventually joined by his fellow enforcers; the rest of Division One. There's no drinking this time, as is typically when they congregate here. Instead, they settle in stunned silence.
'Shit,' Todoroki mutters eventually, slumping into his hands. He doesn't usually look his age, with how well he keeps up with the rest of them. But tonight, he looks ten years older and so fed up. Irie can relate.
'That shouldn't have happened.' Kisaragi has her own hands interlinked in front of her. Her knuckles are white and Irie can see her chewed nails digging into her skin.
'No,' Irie agrees and shifts his gaze elsewhere as he continues to pace. Kisaragi doesn't like to be watched, and he doesn't have enough concern to go around. Besides that, he has too much energy to sit. To play docile. He needs to move.
'Any clue on Shepherd One's injuries?' Todoroki asks, directing the conversation to the shadows' Hinakawa likes to shrink into. The kid jolts at being addressed for a second, before hesitantly opening his laptop. He's never far from some sort of machinery. Irie is typically grateful for that.
It takes a moment of typing on Hinakawa's part. Irie doesn't know if the kid is hacking into CID's files or Shindo's medical documentation, and doesn't much care with worry curdled in his stomach. '…the Chief made Shindo-san go to see a doctor,' Hinakawa begins to report as he scans his screen. 'It says that Shindo-san needed stitches inside his mouth and has been referred to a CID approved dentist for a chipped tooth. There are …concerns about a concussion, so they wanted to keep him in for observation. Shindo-san declined.'
Irie feels a sneer distorting his face at the information. Shindo was hurt before Ignatov sent him flying - doing work enough for two people, but it doesn't take a genius to deduce that Hinakawa is reporting the injuries Ignatov was most likely to have made, and nothing else.
'Shit,' Todoroki mutters again.
Hinakawa swallows uneasily, looking stressed and so young under the harsh CID lighting. 'What - what do we do?'
'What can we do?' Kisaragi asks back, eyes sharp and tired. She still appears hurt from her escape. Unsteady in a way that Irie is unused to, but he likes that she's back. It felt wrong somehow, without her. 'You know what happens to enforcers that disobey orders.'
'Shindo ain't like that,' Irie says. Shindo had come very close to dying, with his refusal to use enforcers in the way any other inspector would have. He doesn't see enforcers as expendable. He doesn't treat them as less than human.
'No, but it doesn't help our position,' Kisaragi responds. 'We're weapons to the CID. Not people. If something were to happen and a complaint was lodged against one of us, it'd be back to solitary for us and that won't help anyone.'
'And it's not like the Chief is gonna be hanging around forever,' Todoroki agrees grimly. They'd been lucky Shimotsuki was there this time; that'd she'd been able to demand action from the two inspectors. But he's right, Shimotsuki is busy enough.
'Well, we can't do nothing again,' Irie states because it still makes him feel sick. How he'd stood by while Shindo was hurt. Irie's got a soft spot for Shindo since the beginning. It's obvious to the other enforcers and the inspectors, though he's assured that Shindo remains oblivious as to how fond Irie really is.
'If you had an idea,' Kisaragi retorts pointedly.
'I dunno!' Irie groans in frustration as one hand pulls at his hair. '…prevention?'
No one refutes that. Todoroki sighs and raises his head. 'So we'll be playing mediators.'
Hinakawa frowns in consideration. '…like - stay between them?'
'I suppose physically shielding Shindo could be a deterrent.' Kisaragi shrugs in contemplation. 'Less opportunity, anyway.'
Irie nods. 'It's not like they don't usually split up on cases.'
'And when we're together there's enough of us that we can…help,' Hinakawa offers, 'in keeping them apart.'
'We'll all decided then?'
They agree uncertainly and eventually go their separate ways to sleep. They're all exhausted and in need of recharging, and since Shindo isn't napping under his desk or going hours without a break, they don't have to haunt the office either.
Shindo is in the next day with his arm in a sling and bandaids delicately placed on his face. He's early and waiting for them with a strained smile. Irie hates it, but greets the inspector with a "good morning" and waits for the rest of the enforces to arrive. Shindo wants to be brave. Irie isn't going to mess with that.
They learn quickly that Ignatov is on leave for recovery once they've all gathered. It's a relief that none of the enforcers give a voice to. The time allows Shindo to heal and gives the two men some space. The enforcers are used to only having one inspector by now, anyway, so few things change until Ignatov's return a month later.
The enforcers hesitantly begin to shadow the two inspectors' in ways they hadn't bothered to before, when Ignatov's back. It's a messy formation, where at least one or two of them is between the two Shepherds at any time. If the inspectors noticed, they don't mention it.
It's easy enough to do. Ignatov is cold and distant, and Shindo has allowed the wall that's been put between them. Instead, he directs his attention to the enforcers. It's strange because they can't tell if it's because Shindo's gotten used to being the only inspector in One, or if he doesn't know how - or want to bridge the gap that's suddenly between him and Ignatov.
The two inspectors will still talk and brainstorm, but rarely alone and they can't seem to remain eye contact. It's awkward and Irie has to wonder how long this will last. Meanwhile, tensions just seem to get worse and worse and Shindo becomes quieter and quieter.
It's still eye-opening when they're on one of Ignatov's first cases back and Shindo hesitates, earphones already in his ears and preparing to go into a trace, when he glances up to his fellow inspector and looks away. Ignatov said nothing when Shindo suggested he use his mentalist talents; it's almost inconceivable with how protective Ignatov was, with Shindo before, that he has nothing to say now. So Shindo looks over, at Ignatov's cold face and then slumps and stops, reconsidering.
Irie, who's all but hovering, doesn't expect to be addressed.
'Kazumichi-kun,' Shindo murmurs as he steps closer to Irie's side, startling him. The inspector's voice seems to echo as it breaches the standoff they'd been frozen into as he prepared for the trace. His fingers tentatively brush against Irie's arm and he tries not to flinch at it. None of the enforcers are used to touch anymore.
'Er…yeah,' Irie swallows, 'Inspector?'
Shindo smiles at the tact on title, but its not as cheery as it once was, hasn't been for a while and there's something - uncomfortable, about the gleam in his eyes, something aching. He's always been too cheerful. When he first arrived it'd made him seem gormless and then tactless, and then eventually careless. Now, Irie misses it. The old freedom in Shindo's expressions, the strength he had to keep it up.
Shindo doesn't answer straight away, gazing over Irie's shoulder. Perhaps waiting for something. Before he takes a large inhale and rallies somewhat. 'Would you - help me drive?' he asks. It takes a moment for the words to sink in.
Because Irie knew something broke, they all saw it; during the rain, he all but heard the snap but this is different. Ignatov has always done this for Shindo, to the point that Shindo had to limit his ability without Shepherd Two. If he was refusing to utilise his partnership now that Ignatov was back, to the extent he was forcing himself to trust someone new...
Irie's stomach lurches and the eyes of his fellow enforcers sharpen. He doesn't bother looking at Ignatov, but he can see in his periphery how Ignatov tenses. The importance of someone holding Arata's "rope" has been drilled into the Enforcers and this -
'O-of course,' Irie agrees. What else could he do?
Arata exhales deeply, tension Irie hadn't noticed easing somewhat. His smile softens, drains of its stiffness even if it's still weak, and is better able to meet Irie's eyes.
'Thank you.'