Chapter Text
In a world of soulmates, it was odd to want to be alone.
It was fate, the books said. Fate that couldn't be measured or explained, only predicted by those who had been raised close to the strings of fortune. Others said it was chance, a meeting that just happened to happen, a toss of a coin up in the air or a roll of the dice for that perfect number. Because there was only a slim possibility that soulmates could meet in a lifetime, maybe they could see each other in the next. Maybe they could be together in another.
Fate and Chance could be so very cruel.
At an early age, Samatoki had more important things on his mind than the soulmate he would or would not meet. He was too busy wondering if he would see tomorrow with blood flaking from his nose and his skin a patchwork of black and blue—would he wake up at all? It was hard enough to live, hard enough to survive in a world of greedy and violent dogs that wanted to take everything away from him. He didn't have time for what ifs and fairy tales, but he made sure Nemu did and that was enough, wasn't it? Every sacrifice he made would finally be worth something. For every smile she gave, for every soulmate success story she excitedly told him about, Samatoki let her drag him into her enthusiasm and watched as she treasured her soul mark.
He didn't regret a thing. Not even when his job started to threaten his life and he was paired with one Sasara Nurude to offset it.
Samatoki first meets him outside the main house wrapped in a mist made of smoke. There's ash around him, laying by his feet, and at least two more cigarettes that've been scuffed to the ground. "Hi, hi!" he greets with a wave and a smile, and Samatoki's surprised enough to pause half a step, biting down on his own cigarette with a frown. It's a fox, he thinks. A fox with smiling eyes that curve into crescents and a sly arch to his lips—Samatoki isn't dumb enough to fall for his tricks.
He's too casual to be just anyone, too breezy, too airy, too carefree. It's annoying. Without knowing anything about Samatoki, he's already acting like they're buddies. "Fuck off," Samatoki spits out, flicking his cigarette to the ground. He grinds it with his heel and imagines that it's this stranger's face, that the embers being smeared over uneven concrete are streaks of blood before he storms off.
They meet again before their family leader, standing straight but respectfully, their heads bowed so that their eyes can only see the tip of his shoes. "Aohitsugi, Nurude." There's something about the cloying scent of perfume in the air that mixes with the smoke stuck on their clothes that sets Samatoki on edge. Nurude lifts his head but he doesn't move otherwise, his smile dimmed to a wisp—even out of the corner of his eye, Samatoki can see that he's unnerved. "The expanded territory in Ikebukuro is getting too big for just one." He lifts a hand and a cigar is placed in between his fingers, already cut and lit. "Rather than have two groups running around like chickens, I want you two to work together. I don't want a rivalry." He inhales the smoke, huffing out stormy clouds that darken the room further. "I want unity. Teamwork." He taps the ashes off into the offered tray. "I want profits."
Samatoki knows a threat when he hears one, and so he clenches his teeth and says nothing, wondering if his new partner is smart enough to do the same. His stomach turns when he glimpses the smile on Nurude's face brighten exponentially. "Don't worry. We'll knock 'em dead with just his face alone!" It reads more like an insult than a compliment, complete with Nurude grinning at him as if this is some sort of inside joke.
Their leader laughs heartily and Samatoki can't help but feel betrayed. "Getting along already," he says and all Samatoki can get out is a scoff that's amused enough to sound like he's not seconds away from tackling Nurude to the ground and punching his face in. "Get going, huh? Must be a few things you guys want to talk about before the day ends." He's not wrong. "There's a meeting next month..." Which means they need to do a full report in thirty days. "So don't let me down. Dismissed."
In the end, he's not what Samatoki is expecting, more of a rejected circus clown than a hardened, lying yakuza dog.
Sasara isn't a fan of confrontation (supposedly) and has a penchant for making the crappiest jokes to divert Samatoki's attention (because violence is where he draws the line, apparently). It's annoying but the guy's surprisingly good at knowing when to back off and when to be serious—and yeah, okay, Samatoki can appreciate that in their line of work. Already, he's gotten all of their men to trust him, cracking jokes, remembering their names... even grabbing them snacks from the convenience store when they least expect it. He's friendly in a way that Samatoki isn't, and it's clear that though his group has loyalty, their friendship is getting easy to buy.
Not that Sasara is a threat or anything.
Samatoki narrows his eyes at the figure cut by street lights in front of him. Between alleyways there's trash thrown haphazardly in nooks and crannies, the ground still damp from a day's worth of rain. The night looks brighter than it really is, the fizzling lights reflecting off of the puddles by their feet. Sasara is humming under his breath, a catchy song that's sure to get stuck in Samatoki's head even after he's long gone, goddamn it.
It's been a while since they've grit their teeth, shook hands, and partnered up. Samatoki's gotten used to Sasara's ill-timed jokes and Sasara should've gotten used to Samatoki's temper. ('Should've' because Samatoki isn't sure and he's not about to ask.) It's no secret that they're slowly falling into routine—heck, Sasara isn't even trying to hide it—but Samatoki lets himself get dragged into these daily shouting matches anyways because it's better than the alternative they've been dancing around. Namely, the 'I've-had-enough-of-this' violence that's sure to take them both out of their boss' good graces.
Still, that's not to say Sasara doesn't piss the hell out of him. There's the way he sometimes looks at Samatoki as if he's a different person altogether, the way his breath catches as if he's holding back the words meant for someone else. The smile that comes after is brittle, his laugh a flippant thing that grates Samatoki's ears like nails on a chalkboard. (And the way it keeps happening, over and over again.) As if that's not enough, there's that tension hanging around him, clinging to the lines of his body as he jerks away from people who've gotten too close without him knowing. Like everyone is an enemy in a room full of allies. The thing is, Samatoki gets it—he does. But after weeks of having Sasara's back and expecting Sasara to have his, he's not sure it's working. The fuck is he supposed to do when his partner still looks over his shoulder, wary of his own shadow? There isn't a lick of trust between them despite their teamwork and Samatoki's had enough of watching Sasara throw up walls around himself without an explanation.
Like this, Samatoki meets his eyes with the intensity of a burning wildfire when Sasara makes the mistake of looking back.
"What," Samatoki says with enough vitriol to burn through skin. "What do you keep looking around for?" There's nothing but the sound of leftover rain dripping from rusty pipes, nothing but water warping with ripples as they both pause mid-step in a shallow puddle. "Ever since this," he sweeps his arm between them, "you've been watching your own back like you don't trust me to watch it for you." And the more he says, the more the bitterness settles on his tongue. "You hiding something, Sasara?" In the dark, Samatoki can only see Sasara's outline stiffen. He's tongue-tied suddenly, his smile frozen and cracking at the edges, and Samatoki is livid. "You are."
These words seem to release him; the way he inhales seems to straighten his spine and snap it back into place. "I guess it can't be helped then." And even though Samatoki's taller, he finds himself stretching to his full height when Sasara takes a step closer. "Y'see," he says quietly, and Samatoki has to strain his ears to hear him, "I'm actually pretty famous."
He's—
What?
"I had a budding comedian career and everything!"
Samatoki can't help it—he barks out a laugh, his irritation falling away like a fucking magic trick. It's absurd to think that anyone would find Sasara's jokes that funny, least of all, funny enough that he has to hide from the public. "Yeah?" He's still grinning, chuckling all over again at the bewildered look on Sasara's face. "And I'm actually the mayor of Yokohama."
Sasara's expression is an odd thing, something that twists with humour and resignation. 'Ah, I knew it', his face seems to say. Slowly, the barest sliver of doubt starts to creep into Samatoki's mind: maybe it's not another stupid joke—? But before he can say anything, Sasara laughs a touch breathlessly, seamlessly inhaling all the air that he needs in the next second. "I'm serious!" he says, shoving his hands into his pockets, and Samatoki finds himself breathing with him.
(Relief.)
Of course he had been right—it's just Sasara being a dumbass as always.
"Same here." Smirking, Samatoki pats his pockets, trying to find a cig. Bingo. "You got a light?"
He thinks he can hear Sasara sigh, but then there's a lighter in his face and Sasara is lighting his cigarette in the next second. "You'll see one day, Mr. Yokohama." Even without looking, he can hear the resignation in Sasara's voice. "You're a long way from home, aren'tcha?" And the playful lilt in his voice makes Samatoki look up.
"Not any farther than you." Shoving a new cigarette into Sasara's mouth, he leans in close to light the end of it with his. "Look at you. All the way from clown town, huh?" The embers catch and burn, the white paper darkening to black. "The day you become a genius comedian? That's the day I really pack up and go." The cigarette slips from Sasara's open mouth, but Samatoki pushes his jaw back up from where it dropped and meets... apprehensive eyes. "What?" It's like the guy suddenly couldn't take a joke.
"...you shouldn't say that." The cigarette is in between Sasara's fingers now, his eyes watching the paper curl into ash. He's staring as if all the answers in the universe are there, going up in smoke. "Stop stealing my job!" he says suddenly, falling into step beside Samatoki. "Comedy is my jurisdiction." Knocking their shoulders together, Sasara grins and takes a drag.
Samatoki bites down a scathing reply and turns away.
Maybe this is okay—whatever they have right now hasn't killed them yet.