Work Text:
Kashiwagi closes the door to his home after the kid takes off his shoes. He was briefed by Kazama earlier that he’d pick the kid up after an urgent meeting with Dojima and making some last minute errands.
He became aware of Kazama’s orphanage before he began following the man. It was rumored at the time around his bottom rung of the ladder by his superiors. But after Kazama helped him walk out of that bloodbath of a raid alive instead of leaving him for dead, the rumors surrounding the hitman funding an orphanage became plausible in his mind.
The kid, er, Kazuma if he remembers his brief introduction looks at him expectantly. He’s concerned about how quiet Kazuma was on the drive back to his home, but he chalks it up to him being basically a stranger. Both of them are now awkwardly standing around in his entryway while he’s taking off his coat.
“Sorry kid, I wasn’t expecting visitors tonight.” He flicks on the light to his apartment. Even if he cleans on the regular, he was putting it off entirely for New Years due to how much work the family has had to deal with in the last few weeks.
“Um, thank you, sir. For taking me in tonight.” The kid mumbles out as he bows, and he can tell something’s on his mind,
“It’s no problem.” He attempts to reassure, “Neither me or Kazama-san wouldn’t want you making the trip back to your home alone anyway.”
Though he wonders why Kazama didn’t just ask him to drive him to the orphanage himself. He suspects it’s because he’s never actually been told about it formally, but the man’s put a lot of trust in this one night however and he doesn’t want to fuck it up now.
“Here, you can sit over there and I can turn the TV on while we wait.” He points towards his small living room, his low table situated near the television he’s switched on, “Feel free to switch to something you’d like.”
The boy wordlessly nods, but he notices he’s hesitant to change the channel off of what is already playing. At least it fills the quiet while they both walk eggshells around each other. Though it leads him to eye the disaster of ingredients haphazardly left out on his small counter space of a kitchen. At least he got the phone call before he stuck anything in a pot. So he gets to work finishing up cutting up the rest of the vegetables after he turns on the burner for the pot to heat up.
How long has it been since he’s actually talked to a child? Probably not since he left his hometown now that he thinks about it, even then he’s never had the opportunity. His sparse amount of friends had younger siblings, sure, but they were never people he really had to interact with. Would Daigo even count? He’s only met the 4 year-old once when Yayoi was at the office...
Fuck. The kid’s like what, 10 or 12 or something? What does he even talk about?
He’s trying to maintain a calm expression because he knows how he can look when he’s stressed. It pinches his brow and then he looks angry and soon a scowl would come across his face—and with the scar any rookie would avoid him for the rest of the day.
A loud beeping noise alerts him to the rice cooker he had left unattended while he rushed out of his apartment earlier. Right, at least he wouldn't have to wait for that. But it makes him realize Kazuma’s been watching him this entire time, the kid quickly turns away but it was too obvious not to notice.
“Uh, hey. Would you like to help?” He offers, holding up the peeled potato.
It’s almost as if the little guy’s been waiting for a moment like this when he nods and gets up from the table. Well he’s glad to give him a better distraction than the TV from whatever he’s thinking about.
“You alright with a knife, Kazuma-kun?” He asks,
“I don’t know...Nishi—my friend got us kicked out of the kitchen at the orphanage we live at. So I haven’t been able to practice.” The kid admits, looking a bit shameful,
“Well, here I’ll teach you.”
He takes the knife and directs Kazuma’s attention to his technique. He cuts the potato in a fluid motion and hands over the knife to the kid. He corrects some of the mistakes and allows the kid to practice while he checks on the pot.
He throws in the already cut carrots and grabs the other half of the potato to quickly cut up as well. A small part of his heart misses being another pair of hands in the kitchen, helping his old neighbor who let him avoid home as much as possible. When he has the time to slow down and prepare and cook something it makes a stressful day better in general, this is no exception.
When he starts filling up a spare cup with water he glances over towards Kazuma to check up on how he’s doing.
The kid has an intense expression as he takes several seconds in between cuts while he’s cutting the potato into chunks. At first he wonders if he should intervene because he’ll cut himself if he’s inattentive. But he soon realizes Kazuma isn’t distracted by whatever was on his mind earlier—he’s entirely focused on cutting the potato.
Well. He’ll probably get better at it with practice.
Right?
The next half hour of cooking he allows the kid to check on the pot and ask questions, albeit he can tell Kazuma’s a little impatient when he checks it almost every 5 minutes. It’s a little endearing to be honest. While he’s cleaning up the counterspace, he wonders why Kazama is taking so long. His pager hasn’t been alerted in the entirety of the visit, and another phone call hasn’t come in either. Given it’s a meeting with Dojima on this night of all nights, there must be something important going on.
How did this kid make it to Kamurocho on his own anyway? Do taxi drivers really pay no mind or something—scratch that, he’s paid a taxi driver off to get a bleeding subordinate to a clinic on a whim before, it isn't out of the realm of possibility.
“Is it done?” Kazuma asks again, and with a quick glance yeah it should be done simmering around now.
He takes out a spoon out of a drawer and hands it over to the kid, “Have a taste.”
Kazuma dips the spoon into the finished curry, and after putting it in his mouth he beams up at him.
“That’s good I take it?” and he knows the answer already, “Here, go sit, I’ll get you a plate.”
Once he’s done plating and setting out the dishes on the table he places a hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“Thanks for helping me out, Kazuma-kun.”
Kazuma looks at him with wide eyes and looks away with a small smile. He knows the feeling. There’s an urge to ruffle his hair or something like his neighbor used to do but it feels way too embarrassing for both of them. But they sit in silence in front of the TV while a baseball game comes on to enjoy their impromptu dinner.
Another 15 minutes pass and he’s starting to get concerned about Kazama again. While he’s washing the dishes he can see out of the corner of his eye the kid’s getting antsy again. He wonders if something goes wrong what he'll have to do. If he's called out for family matters if he should leave the kid in the unknown safety of his home. He wonders how he's going to stop the kid from just running out the door again to the city to check on Kazama, he's certainly isn't going to hurt him. But dealing with a disobeying rookie of the family and child are two different things he has to watch his voice for.
But at last a knock on the door interrupts his thoughts, quickly drying his hands he answers the door with Kazuma coming up right behind him. Kazama stands, a hint of exhaustion in his eyes and holding a small paper bag.
“Come in, sir. It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise, I apologize for the wait. I hope Kazuma hasn’t caused you any trouble.”
“No—not at all.” He says,
The kid and his superior share a look for a moment.
Kashiwagi wonders if there’s a way to leave them alone for a bit because he knows something must have happened earlier this night to warrant it. The phone call earlier was hurried, the most frantic he’s heard Kazama been in the years he’s followed him. There's too many things he's noticed that line up tonight that he's sure are connected. But he shouldn't pry into these matters, he's pried far too much into Kazama's private life enough tonight with just this visit.
“Thank you for watching him on short notice, Kashiwagi. I apologize if I interrupted anything you were doing.” Kazama unexpectedly bows in front of him,
“N-no problem, sir.” He interrupts in the midst of his shock, “I don’t exactly participate in any of the festivities though so my night was pretty free.”
“Ah…” And Kazama looks a little caught off guard, “I did pick up a gift for your troubles…”
Kazama takes out a small grey box out of the paper bag and stuffs the bag into a coat pocket. He hesitantly takes the gift from him, “Oh. Well, I appreciate the effort, sir...Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Kashiwagi.”
The kid comes to Kazama's side and bows, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
He gives Kazuma a small smile and a wave as the kid exits out the front door. His superior stays in his entryway however, placing his hands in his coat pockets, “Also. I thought you should be the first to know about this but…”
“Hm?” What could it be now?
“I was in talks with Patriarch Dojima about being promoted to captain.” Kazama begins, and before he can congratulate the man he continues, “And, well, after tonight I’ve been told I was also going to be given my own family as well.”
“Wait, really?”
“I suspect it’s most likely coinciding with the promotion to keep me within his ranks unlike Shimano who’s splitting off from the family altogether.” Kazama contemplates, “But I thought you should be the first to know, if—”
“—I’d transfer in heartbeat, sir.”
Kazama blinks, and there’s a small crack in his superior’s expression that he doesn’t expect. The hitman hides his feelings well, it probably comes with the experience. But it’s like he’s looking into a side of this man he shouldn’t be once again.
“I’ll inform you when you’ll be able to then, just—enjoy yourself tonight, Kashiwagi.”
“You too, sir. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Kazama gives him a troubled look but bids him goodbye and he shuts the door. His apartment is quiet once more, it almost looks like he didn’t have visitors in the first place. He sighs and sits by the table laying the gift box down on the hard surface.
He’s unsure of any of the common practices of the holiday—does he just open this now? Shrugging and opening the box he unfurls the rolled piece of cloth out.
It’s a tie.
He can’t stop the laugh that escapes him.
The next day he’s informed that the Jingweon are no longer a problem in the city.
There’s an uneasy thought of what was happening when he received that phone call that night.