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It was a bitter goodbye, leaving Blue Lock.
It wasn't a sad goodbye (if Kuon wanted to be there, he still could. After his 2-v-2 game where the other team picked his partner Kuon was presented with a second chance: the wild card room. But he was also presented with the exit. Kuon didn't believe in second chances—at least not for himself —so he picked up his pride and left. He packed up his stuff, called his father and he was out) but it was a goodbye. A “so long” to the prison that he began to call home, a farewell to the people that he grew to like, hate, and love (in that order).
He wasn't sentimental though (he never learned the concept, and you really can't teach an old dog new tricks) so he settled on a nice Irish goodbye. A slip out the back door, into a black unmarked car, headed to his humble accommodations in East Yokohama.
The interesting thing about his father’s manor is the way that nothing really seemed to change. Everything was exactly the way that Kuon remembered it when he left; no picture was out of place, no candle any lower than he remembered it. His room was the same as how he left it; pens were still sprawled out across his desk and his bed was still unmade (hell, it even had the same sheets). It was weird. Kuon took a step closer to the bed, picking up the loose sheet and bringing it to his nose.
It was clean.
He didn’t leave with the sheets clean (Kuon wasn't Barou. He changed his sheets when only prompted and cleaned his room only when it was dirty enough to make Kuon himself uncomfortable. There was no reason for his sheets to smell this clean. It was weird ) but they were cleaned somehow, and then put back on his bed the same way that he left it.
I hate this freaky fucking house, Kuon thought before throwing his bag down on the floor.
Now Kuon (hypothetically) could have won Blue Lock.
He could have given his special ability (he could make eye contact with someone and render them motionless. Big whoop. It wasn't a super cool power like Chuuya-san's but there were arguably worse powers— like turning into a tiger or something. That sounds like it would suck) but he didn't. Not for any of the expected reasons; he didn't care about morals or about what his father thought and he didn't care about what Ego thought either and he sure as hell didn't care about what Team Z thought, but rather because Kuon just didn't feel like it .
Too much work, too much stress, and football seemed to be a lot less fun when the opponents were not moving.
So he didn't.
He kept his eyes closed for most of his time at Blue Lock (except for one time when Igaguri spilled cold water in his lap trying to reach for some bowl of soup. Kuon looked at him in surprise, wide eyed, and Igaguri stopped in his tracks. Unfortunately he was stuck holding the piping hot bowl with both of his hands) and when his teammates asked him about his home life he kept it brief and vague. He admitted he had a family, he admitted he had a house in some part of Yokohama, and that was about it.
But it was interesting hearing about other people’s lives. It was nice to hear stories about regular families who loved each other and did things together (granted, Kuon did things with his father, but they weren't nice. They were usually Port Mafia related things, things like, well, killing people , and being an assistant to manslaughter was not his ideal father-son outing) because it was something that Kuon just didn't understand . And Kuon didn't have any siblings (no, Elise was not his sister no matter how many times his father tried to tell him so. She was a damaged little child and he hopes that one day she realizes as much) so hearing about his teammates’ brothers and sisters is nice. It’s nice to hear about Kunigami’s little brother or about Raichi and his three older sisters.
He’d like to imagine that maybe if his mom was still around, he would have gotten to join in on the conversation.
Kuon heard a knock from his door frame, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up from his bed, sighing once he realized it was just Chuuya.
“Chuuya-san,” Kuon yawned, “Why are you here?”
People rarely visited Kuon’s father at his home. Most, if not all, Port Mafia related business was conducted within their base in the city.
“Wanted to give you a good homecoming.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Ugh, can’t get a single thing past you kid,” Chuuya laughed, shaking his head, “Can’t conduct business in the base anymore, we're in hot water right now. Dazai and the ADA really have us in a corner and the Guild—”
Kuon nodded in and out of the rest of Chuuya’s explanation. The last thing Kuon wanted was to come back to Yokohama, better yet come back to anything relating to Dazai (Kuon and Dazai were not as friendly as him and Chuuya were. It wasn't because of the whole “betrayal” thing; Kuon didn't care that Dazai left the Port Mafia—hell, Kuon would leave if he wasn't the boss’ son —but Dazai was just an asshole. The only positive thing Kuon had to say about Dazai was that he wasn’t a horrible teacher; he did help Kuon get a grasp of his abilities, albeit he did it by beating it out of him , but overall the guy sucked and every time he got involved with anything there was an issue for the Port Mafia. And more issues for the Port Mafia meant more blood on his hands and Kuon just really didn't like killing people) and the Guild were annoying little pests that Kuon didn't appreciate either.
“—anyways that’s the story. How was soccer camp?”
“It was fine. I played soccer,” Kuon shrugged, “Won a few games. Lost a few more. Now I’m back here.”
Chuuya nodded. “Well welcome back, kid.”
“Yeah,” Kuon sighed, falling back onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thud .
When it came to Blue Lock, there were a few things that Kuon missed. Only like three, tops , but one of those things (surprisingly) happened to be Igarashi.
Igarashi was a loud little man; he had a loud voice to match his loud opinions. It was super fucking annoying to hear him talk at any point, but Kuon got used to his shrill voice and stupid conversation openers, (“Kuon-kun, you ever wish that you were a rabbit?” “Kuon-kun, do you think towels have feelings?” “Kuon-kun! You’re crushing my neck!”) eventually learning to look forward to them. He was ambitious to a fault, had a boatload of misplaced confidence, and he was kind of funny when he didn't try.
Kuon wasn't the closest with him (apparently Kuon was closest with Raichi. This was all news to Kuon because honestly he didn't think of Raichi much, if at all. Yeah, Kuon would always be the one to calm him down when he got riled up and yes, Raichi was always the first person he said "good morning" to and the last person he would say “good night” to as well. He ate with Raichi, slept next to Raichi, partnered with Raichi for their endurance training, and at some point in time—probably like a little bit after the whole betrayal thing but before the whole “just kidding” bit—he made out with him, but honestly Kuon didn't imagine that these small acts of acquaintance-ship really meant anything more than that; actions of an acquaintance. But it did, according to Chuuya, and now Kuon felt a little bad for not saying goodbye. But Raichi will get over it. Probably) but he respected that Igarashi had a goal, a deeper reason for becoming the best striker in Japan.
“I just really can’t be a monk dude. Like I would rather die than be a monk,” Kuon remembered Igarashi saying one day, completely unprompted, “Seriously.”
“You would rather die ,” Kuon yawned, drying his hair with a towel. He would have used a blow dryer, but he enjoyed the conversation he was having with Igarashi too much to drown him out.
“Did I stutter?”
That could be arranged if you pay me enough , Kuon thought about saying. He wished he had something that he felt strongly enough about to die over. Kuon didn’t really enjoy his job at the Port Mafia, but he wouldn't kill himself to get out of it (he wasn't Dazai, after all); the fact that Igarashi would was quite admirable.
“That’s pretty metal, Igaguri-chan.”
“Thank you,” Igarashi said proudly, smiling to himself.
And maybe Kuon thought of him when he was doing his walk of shame through the streets of Yokohama. He didn't care about Igarashi, not one bit, but...a part of him hopes that he made it through.
Just a small part.
Another interesting thing about the Mori Manor was how big it was.
It was something around 35,000 square feet and it had eight total wings (North, South, East, West, Northeast, Northwest—you get it) and more rooms than Kuon had the time to count. Living in it would be much more enjoyable if it didn't look like a vampire was consulted for the interior design, but Kuon was a freeloader so he supposed that he had no right to comment on his father's taste in decor (or lack thereof). The only thing that stumped Kuon, however, was the fact that whichever fucking part of the house he was in, his father always seemed to be close by. Kuon pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing himself for the inevitable interaction.
“Wataru. I heard you came in on Friday.”
“Yup.”
“You didn't think of stopping to say hello?’
“Nope.”
In theory, Kuon should be able to live in the manor for about three weeks before he would have to run into his father, but he was already having trouble lasting three days .
Mori sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Did you really think you could avoid me in my own house.”
“I had hopes.”
Along with the actual special ability that Kuon possessed (Chuuya called it Medusa, but giving Kuon’s boring ability a cool name still doesn't make it cool. He respected him for trying, though) he also possessed the super cool non -superhuman ability which allowed him to sense when someone was going to get unnecessarily deep and emotional with him. It has saved him from countless amounts of confessions, rants, and awkward situations but his dad was—well, his dad . He was annoyingly persistent, so Kuon knew that whatever conversation he was hoping to have was probably not one he could avoid.
And maybe he didn't want to avoid it. Maybe it was the whole “absence makes the heart grow fonder” thing, or maybe Kunigami’s long talks about the importance of “family” and “loyalty” and all that bullshit was finally getting to him, but Kuon didn't feel like running anymore. He was gone for two years, (two amazing, Mori free, murder free, Dazai free, years) maybe things finally changed for the better—figuratively, of course.
(Physically , Yokohama has seen way better days)
Maybe, through words, confessions, and heart to hearts, Kuon could get the perfect picket-fence family that Kunigami branded into his head.
And maybe this new Mori, the one that helps the Armed Detective Agency and doesn't put hits out on innocent people anymore, would be open to it.
Kuon sighed. “Out with it. What do you want.”
Mori smiled at Kuon (a genuine smile. It was so fucking creepy it made Kuon want to puke and scratch his eyes out) and laughed, waving him off.
“Just to talk. But we can speak at dinner.”
He left Kuon in the hallway, staring down the corridor in confusion.
I fucking hate this house.
Dinner was served.
It smelt delicious; (Kuon was dying for some real meat after he was being forced to live off of rabbit food for two fucking years ) If there was one thing that Kuon missed about his house it was definitely the food. Mori employed some of the best chefs in Yokohama (he had bad taste in most else—women, design, fashion sense, parenting—but he definitely knew where to find a good ass cook) which was great for Kuon because he felt as if he was going to die if he ate another piece of lettuce.
Kuon picked up his knife, carefully carving away at the steak.
“You never said hello to your sister,” Mori said, frowning.
“I didn’t know I had one,” Kuon retorted.
Mori looked at Kuon blankly and Kuon matched his stare, tapping his silverware against the rim of his plate. It was an act of defiance more than anything; no one, not even Koyo, was allowed to make prolonged eye contact with Mori. But Kuon was different. Kuon wasn’t on the same level as Koyo, or Chuuya, or Akutagawa, or even Dazai ; he had no weight to push around and he didn't want any either.
But unlike everyone else in the Mafia, he could do one thing that no one else had the gall to do; he could look his father in the eyes.
“Wataru, can you not tap your fork like that, it’s kinda annoying—”
“Shh, Akutagawa,” Chuuya whispered, “ Read a room . God, who fuckin raised you?”
“Dazai-san.”
“ Obviously. ”
Kuon continued to stare at his father (ugh he hated the word— father —but somehow, saying Mori seemed worse) until he finally couldn't take the silence any longer, eventually rolling his eyes and turning to Elise.
“Hello Elise,” Kuon sighed, “I take it you’re doing well?”
“I’m good,” she grinned, “How are you?”
Kuon sighed, picking at a fatty part of his steak.
“Me? I’ve never been better.”
The words came out easily; Kuon hoped that one day he could even grow to believe them.
There was something wrong with Raichi.
Kuon wasn't sure what it was (and he really didn't care) but he kept on shifting back and forth on his feet and Kuon found it incredibly distracting.
“Is there a reason you asked me to come out here,” Kuon asked, putting his hands in his coat pocket. It was especially chilly today, the wind whistling past his ears sending a shiver down his spine. He really wished Raichi would have asked to meet up in a coffee shop or somewhere warm, but meeting in a park also meant Kuon had more ways to walk away, so it was probably for the best.
Raichi smiled, rubbing his hands on his arms.
It's mid-October. How stupid of him not to bring a jacket.
“You look really nice, Kuon,” Raichi said, barely whispering, “Your hair is longer.”
“Can you speak up? I can hardly hear you.”
“I said you looked nice.”
Kuon smiled at himself, smoothing the wrinkles on his shirt. He did look nice, didn't he? Since leaving Blue Lock he started to see some visual improvements in his life. He now had the ability to wear normal clothes ( today he chose black suede boots, a cable-knit red sweater, blue jeans, and a black winter coat—how delightful ) and his heavy eye bags were disappearing. His hair got longer as well, (it used to be at an awkward mid length of too long to keep down but too short to tie in a bun) finally reaching his shoulders. It was healthier now too, since Kuon stopped dying it brown every week, (there wasnt a deep or specific reason for this, as Kuon enjoyed having brown hair, but he just got too lazy to go out to the store and get hair dye so he decided, fuck it) only at the cost of having to deal with his natural hair color (His hair was red. Not annoying bright red like Chigiri, or ginger like Kunigami, just dark red. Maybe maroon would be a better word for it) which meant that he was subjected to countless snide comments from Mori about how he looked “just like his mother”, but Kuon liked his new hair so he ignored it.
He appreciated that Raichi also appreciated how good he looked.
“Of course I do,” Kuon laughed, shaking his head, “What’s new?”
He quickly frowned and Kuon wondered if he said something wrong.
“Kuon,” Raichi sighed, looking at the grass, “I think we have to end this.”
“Huh?”
“This,” Raichi said, motioning between the two of them, “This whole relationship thing. I don’t have much time, being on the U-20 team and all and you—”
“Wait, wait, hold on,” Kuon interrupted, “When were we in a relationship?”
It was now Raichi’s turn to look confused.
“What? Are you serious?”
“I never said I was dating you,” Kuon said bluntly, “Who gave you that idea?”
“You!”
“Me,” Kuon gasped, tilting his head, “when?”
Kuon never thought of Raichi as his boyfriend. He hardly thought of him as his friend for that matter, recalling all the times that Raichi screamed at him about some shit that he probably did, tears streaming down his face, (after the fact Chuuya walked him through this again and explained that that was the reaction of heartbreak. Now Kuon just felt shitty) his words cutting and blunt.
Did couples fight like that?
“When? When I—When I fucking opened myself up to you and shit! When we kissed, multiple times, and you—and you told me you loved me!”
“But I never said we were dating,” Kuon said dryly, “I would never date you, you’re too violent.”
“ Excuse me !”
Kuon stared at Raichi, blinking a few times. He didn't come all this way to have an argument; he simply wanted a distraction and instead of being his bliss, Raichi was introducing more conflict and confusion into the mess that was Kuon’s daily schedule.
“Listen,” Kuon began, looking up at Raichi, “Let’s just drop it. You came out here to tell me you didn't want to see me again, yeah?”
Kuon pulled out his phone before scrolling to Raichi’s number and pressing delete.
“Wish granted,” Kuon said, looking at his watch. It was quarter past 4; if he stopped talking to Raichi now he could possibly make it across town in time to get a pack of those pig shaped matcha chocolate biscuits that Elise liked (he owed it to her; he did leave her alone with Mori for two years) and be home before dinner.
Kuon turned around, heading towards the entrance, leaving Raichi standing under the cedar tree.
“That was brutal,” A voice said from behind him.
He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Kuon’s hand plunged into his pocket, taking out his sunglasses before putting them on and turning around.
“Dazai. Who do I owe the pleasure to?”
Kuon would like to think that on a good day, he could sense Dazai coming from a mile away. He was still surprised though, meaning that either Dazai got way better at sneaking around or Kuon really lost his touch, the man's voice never failing to make him break out in a cold sweat.
With Dazai gone (he was the ADA’s problem now; Kuon felt not an ounce of woe for him—except for the times when he did) Kuon was able to walk around corners without having to check them first, he was able to wake up knowing he wasn't going to go to bed bruised and bloodied (though, Dazai did teach him a great life lesson through his countless ass-whoopings, and that was how to gracefully take a beating) but with him back (kind-of-sort-of, Kuon wasn't really paying attention) his facade of quietude was sure to crack sooner or later.
For those reasons he decided he would stay cordial and professional—no matter how much he wanted to curb stomp Dazai he would refrain (plus, Dazai would just call his partner or something and Kunikida was one dude that Kuon was not itching to fight) and he would keep all his nasty words to himself, just like Kunigami taught him, once upon a time.
Dazai grinned and reached out, taking the glasses off of Kuon’s face.
“No need to do that with me, kid. I trust you.”
Kuon’s not sure why he cares, but something about Dazai actually not being an asshole made him feel warm. Things were finally changing; he left Yokohama on horrible terms with the ADA, alright terms with Akutagawa and strange terms with his father but it seemed as now, after proving his humanity through soccer of all things, people seemed to discard him as a threat.
He was on the way to finally becoming regular .
“Thank you, Dazai-san.”
“You know, I know it’s sad that your soccer career didn't work out, but think on the bright side,” Dazai said, putting his arm around Kuon’s shoulder, bringing him down to his height, “Me and your dad have a common enemy now, so you get to spend time with me .”
“ Yay ,” Kuon deadpanned, prying Dazai off of him.
“— And I got this new apprentice, he’s the greatest, his name is Atsushi and he’s a little bit stupid but—”
Kuon nodded along, letting Dazai ramble about the tiger boy and the rest of the peanut gallery.
“—anyways so that's why I need you to break into the Guild office and buy us some time.”
“ Excuse me ? You want me to do what ?”
Dazai pointed into the sky, his finger landing on a white blimp.
“Atsushi is up there, trying to save the country. I need you, down here, to make sure he can ,” Dazai explained, smiling, “Can I trust you?”
Kuon nodded, slipping on his sunglasses.
“I won't let you down.”