Chapter Text
A hooded figure lightly kicked the brick wall in front of them, glancing around them every so often. It was nearly 2 in the morning, and the alleyway was perfectly dark, save a small patch of light from a streetlight nearby.
The hood snapped up the moment a figure blocked some of the light, and walked purposefully towards them.
“Sorry, ‘bout that, Kuroda,” said the approaching figure, a 30-something-year old man wearing a large coat and a deceptively charming grin. “Dinner with the in-laws went longer than I intended, so my meeting with my lady-friend had to start later.”
“Hope the in-laws are in good health,” offered the hooded figure, not even bowing their head to the older man.
“Unfortunately.” He pulled a slender cigarette out and indicated for the hooded figure to light it for him. They obliged, with one hand, and then it slunk back into their pocket. “Well,” he said after a few puffs, “on to business?”
The hooded figure reached into their clothes to pull a thick envelope from the hidden pocket against their stomach. They held the heavy package out with one hand. The man plucked it from them and opened it, counting the large wad of bills inside of it.
He hummed appreciatively at the amount. “Almost a million yen? Where are you pulling all of this from? You aren’t really attractive enough to be a whore, are you?”
The hooded figure did not react to his insult. “I’ll contact you again when I have more money.”
The man tucked the envelope into his coat pocket and took another puff of his cigarette. “Before the first of October.”
The hood nodded once, then turned.
“Until then, Kuroda.”
“Until then.”
The hooded figure turned the corner of the alleyway before kicking off the ground and rising above the buildings and the street lights. No one would know, and they were too tired to be worrying about some beat cop reporting them (again).
Kuroda landed on the rooftop of a building across the street from a park. A few people were milling about, despite the hour, although it was not for the park’s intended purpose. On the rooftop was a large, well-tended garden, with vegetables and herbs. The entrance to the stairwell was kindly unlocked, and the figure lifted their hood upon passing the doorway. They chose not to switch the stairwell light on, which would have revealed an unruly mop of dark hair, and a young, scarred face.
They walked down two flights of stairs to the third floor, then down five doors to their apartment. They felt for the doorknob and keyhole, and unlocked it as quietly as possible. The door did not squeak when they slowly pushed it open, meaning the landlady’s son had come by as promised.
They walked past the kitchen and bathroom in the dark, and groped around for the floor lamp. It illuminated the small apartment. The bed was about a meter away from them, and unmade. A pile of blankets and pillows were kindly shoved to the middle, for cleanliness, not tidiness. The basket of dirty laundry at the closet door was nearly full, and the buckets for clean clothes inside it were almost empty. Only one bottle of water was left in the fridge.
Thankfully, two onigiri were waiting in their pocket, which they immediately opened and dug into after washing their hands. They had a long list of things to do tomorrow. The big ones were laundry and groceries. And they still had work from 5pm to 10pm, and then from 10.30pm to 2.30am again.
But that meant they could sleep for almost 10 hours tonight. That was something they really needed. They finished eating, and washed up, padding around the little bathroom in socks.
Once they were kneeling next to their bed, by the clothing hamper, they took a deep breath and raised their arms up to pull their clothes off. Air sucked over their teeth harshly as their fresh bruises began to ache. The memory of a solid punch to their abdomen burned anew, flesh and muscles feeling like they were being ripped open as they finished getting the hoodie and shirt off. Unnoticed tears rolled down their cheeks as they caught their breath again, taking a few sips of water.
After getting the rest of their clothing off and cracking the window ever so slightly to let cool air in, they lay on the bed. They would wash their sheets in the morning (or afternoon) anyways, so they didn’t bother with putting a towel beneath them.
They took slow sips of water, and once they capped it and put it aside, they fell asleep. No dreams came. Too tired. Their side ached.