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It started with a pounding on Yuki and Momo’s door at 11 at night. They had been in the middle of a cooking show, Momo making heart eyes at Yuki as he yelled at the scene like a middle aged dad watching football, and they both jumped at the sound before going back to their show. Then the pounding came again, and again, and then it started up and kept going for a full five minutes.
“Do you think we should get that?” Momo asked.
“Probably,” Yuki replied, and paused the show as they headed over to the door and opened it.
A teenage boy was standing there, clutching a crumpled photo tightly in one hand and the other still raised, his knuckles slightly bloodied from slamming themselves into the wall again and again.
“You’re private investigators, right?”
“We investigate each other’s privates,” said Yuki, who was exhausted and not thinking before he spoke.
Momo turned bright red and spluttered, and the kid rolled his eyes.
“Do you look into illegal activities and missing persons,” he said, “or no.”
“We do!” Momo said cheerfully. “Are you looking to hire us, because we really aren’t taking on any new—”
“My name is Kujo Tenn,” said the boy, “and I have information for you.”
Momo and Yuki stared at him for a couple minutes, before Yuki stepped aside.
“Why don’t you come in,” he said.
Kujo Tenn was short and pale and constantly on edge. He accepted tea when Yuki offered, but only sipped it once before holding out the picture: old, and worn with age as if its owner took it out and stared at it often. It was slightly crumpled and damp from being in Tenn’s sweaty hand, and Tenn pointed at each of the boys in turn as he started speaking.
“That’s me,” he said, “and that’s my twin brother, Riku. He was always sick growing up, and when we were thirteen he’d spent more time in the hospital than out of it, and my family was in some serious medical debt. My adoptive father, Kujo Takamasa, helped us to get out of it in exchange for my adoption. I’m not here to accuse Kujo of any crimes or anything like that--he’s a good man and I’m grateful to him for everything. However--he works with a man named Tsukumo Ryo--”
“ God damn it,” Momo moaned. “Why. Does that asshole. Have to come up with everything ? I get caught investigating stolen goods? Ryo. My apartment burns down? Ryo. Some kids go missing in XXXXXX multiple times over the course of two years? Guess whose name fucking shows up in connection to it. ”
Tenn looked interested. “Could you tell me more about those missing kids?” he said. “Were any of their names Nanase Riku, Yotsuba Tamaki, Osaka Sougo, or Ogami Banri?”
Yuki’s entire body went cold. “What,” he croaked out.
“Nanase Riku, Yotsuba Tamaki, Osaka Sougo, Ogami Banri,” Tenn said. “And at least two more besides. Three of them I know for a fact Kujo sent to Tsukumo because--in the cases of Yotsuba and Ogami--they were causing issues for him--Yotsuba is the biological older brother of my younger sister, Aya, and for whatever reason he took offense to Kujo taking her in and kept making this awful racket, and from what Kujo remembers about Ogami--it was like five years ago and not super important, so he isn’t really clear on the detail anymore--apparently Ogami and some friend of his ran this super conveniently located coffeeshop that Kujo could use to keep an eye on the Okazaki mafia--”
“The what!” said Yuki.
“I’ll explain later,” Momo whispered, his hands wrapped, white-knuckled, around his own cup of tea.
“--And, long story short, Ogami and the friend refused to sell, Kujo realized that Ogami was basically running the place while the friend rode his coattails or whatever--also, Kujo wanted the friend and told me that, had the man been a minor, he would have absolutely adopted him after he got rid of Ogami, so you see, Kujo isn’t a bad man. But the plan fell through--apparently Ogami’s friend was less emotionally reliant on the man than he’d thought—and he abandoned it. For Osaka, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had run away from home, and he just got picked up by Kujo and sent to Tsukumo.” Tenn shrugged. “But Kujo swore to me that he never touched Riku, and he’s a good man so I believe him.”
“Kujo Takamasa,” Yuki gritted out, “is not, and has never been a good person. He is a monster and has ruined so many lives—”
“He is not!” Tenn said, indignant. “He’s a good man .”
“Good man my ass ,” said Yuki.
“Listen, will you help me find and save Riku or not?!” Tenn shouted. “Tsukumo—he wipes people’s memories and turns them into assassins. He did that to Riku. To my brother. And I guess to those other three guys too, but that’s not important here. I want to hire you--to find Riku, and to save him, and bring him home to me.”
“Why should we?” asked Momo. “As I’m sure you’re smart enough to have figured out, we aren’t real private investigators. We work almost exclusively with Okazaki Rinto exclusively for his issues. Why should we do what some random kid asks?”
“Because I know that you investigated at least one missing persons case tied to this!” Tenn said, frustrated. “I know you were poking around Kujo in conjunction with the disappearance of Nikaido Yamato, and wouldn’t you like to get more leads on that one? Besides--I can pay! Whatever you ask of me, I’ll give it! No other private investigator would touch this because either Tsukumo or Kujo owns them, so you’re the only ones I can ask!”
“Alright,” Momo said, “whatever we ask of you, yes?”
Tenn looked like he was already regretting his entire life, which Yuki could relate to. Maybe three was something going on, some other things he could be thinking of. Maybe there was some connection between “Okazaki mafia” and “we aren’t real private investigators”, but that sort of connection-making was far from Yuki’s mind. He could think of nothing beyond the fact that Kujo had taken Ban, and given him to someone who brainwashed people, and was Ban even Ban anymore? It was a moot point--Yuki had already decided that he didn’t care if Ban was killing people or evil or hated Yuki, he was still finding him and bringing him home. He was Ban. Yuki would do anything and everything for him. And--it was official now, too, that Kujo had only taken Ban because Yuki was weak, because Yuki hadn’t done a good enough job watching out for him, taking care of him. He had already vowed to take care of Momo in the way Ban had taken care of him, but now he vowed it again, even harder, and then vowed that as soon as he had Ban back, he’d take care of him too. He wouldn’t lose anyone else, ever again. He wouldn’t sleep late and make Ban and Momo drag him out of bed, he wouldn’t complain, he wouldn’t cause problems. He would make Ban comfort cocoa every morning--even though he couldn’t quite figure out how to not burn it, it had recently stopped catching on fire--and Ban would laugh like every other time Yuki had tried to make comfort cocoa and--
No.
Yuki would figure out how to do it right, so that Ban didn’t have to laugh and kick him out of the kitchen in order to make it the right way. Ban could relax, and enjoy cocoa, and wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of Yuki all the time. Everything would be okay.
But it wasn’t now, and Kujo’s adopted son was staring at Momo in abject terror. “Yes,” he said, “as long as you get Riku safely back to me! I swear.”
“Great,” Momo said, “you’re going to pay us 200 for the initial consultation, and 500 for every week that we’re investigating, and you are going to get us every piece of information on Ogami Banri you possibly can find. Also, we’re picking your brain for information. We won’t use you against Kujo, no matter how much we want to, because you’re a kid, but don’t expect us to be nice about him either.”
Tenn spluttered, but sighed in defeat. “I suppose that’s...acceptable,” he said. He pulled out his wallet and began thumbing through the bills.
“Wait!” Yuki finally managed. “Tell us--tell us more about Ban first.”
“Who’s Ban?” asked Tenn.
“Ogami Banri, obviously!” Momo said.
“Oh,” Tenn said. “Why’d you call him Ban? What is he to you?”
“He’s my best friend,” Yuki said, and looked away so that he wouldn’t cry in front of the child.
“Isn’t Momo your best friend?” asked Tenn.
“No, Momo’s the love of my life,” Yuki said.
Momo choked and tea came out of his nose, so Yuki thumped him soundly on the back.
“He’s the highlight of my days,” Yuki continued as Momo coughed. “He’s the sun that I orbit. He’s--”
“I get it,” Tenn said. “Alright. How about we discuss my brother before I tell you the only other thing I know about Ogami, though? I don’t want anyone to get distracted. Or punched.”
“We wouldn’t punch a kid,” Yuki said, once it was clear that Momo was going to keep coughing for the conceivable future.
“Still,” Tenn said. “I’ll tell you before I leave.”
Yuki looked over at Momo, whose face was bright red and who was still coughing. Yuki didn’t want to have to wait, but Momo probably would rather not get news about Ban while he was in the middle of a coughing fit, and besides, Yuki knew himself well enough to know that he definitely wouldn’t be focusing on Kujo Tenn’s missing brother once he heard more about Ban.
“Alright,” Yuki said. He stood up. “You mentioned that Nikaido Yamato might be connected to Tsukumo and Kujo’s kidnapping spree. What about the Izumi brothers, or Rokuya Nagi? Do either of those sound familiar?”
“No,” Tenn said, “but Kujo only remembered the ones who caused him trouble--I only know Osaka’s name because my boss knows exactly what shit Tsukumo pulls.”
“And what is that shit?” asked Momo, seemingly recovered from his coughing fit. “I know you mentioned brainwashing, but…”
“He wipes their memories, too,” Tenn said. “He wipes their memories and makes them totally reliant on him for--everything, and turns them into assassins.”
“Fuck!” Momo said.
“We’re going to save Ban,” said Yuki, because if he didn’t say it out loud he didn’t know if he’d be able to believe it, and pulled out the file folder he’d compiled back when he and Iori were working together and flipped it open, pulling out a picture Iori had given him, of the Izumi brothers standing together, laughing at the camera, arms around each other. He showed it to Tenn. “Do you know either of those boys?”
Tenn frowned, and then nodded. “Yes!” he said. “The darker-haired one was with Riku, he shot Yaotome--my boss,” he said. “He’s definitely one of the people Tsukumo took.”
Yuki nodded. “Then his brother is, as well.” He pulled out another picture--Nikaido Yamato, scowling away from the camera. “What about him?”
Tenn shook his head.
“Alright…” Yuki flipped through the folder, pulled out the picture of Rokuya Nagi that Momo had won off of some sick guy named Haruki in a poker game. “Him?”
Tenn shook his head again.
“Keep an eye out for them!” Momo said. “We think they were taken too.”
“I will,” Tenn said. “And...about Riku…?”
“Do you have a recent picture of him?” asked Yuki. “What about one of Izumi Iori?”
“Yes, actually, I do,” Tenn said. He pulled out a phone from his pocket and flicked it on, swiping at the screen for a moment before pulling up some security footage. On it, Izumi Iori, wearing an ill-fitting suit and looking gaunter and deader inside than he had when Yuki had last seen him--which was really quite the accomplishment--was seen walking up to Yaotome, firing a single shot at him, and then tossing the gun to the side before bolting out of frame. Tenn then swiped over to the next picture, revealing a close-up shot of Iori’s face as he began running: he looked back over his shoulder, face splattered with blood, eyes set, determined. “I don’t have one of Riku, though. He was better at staying away from the cameras, and...I didn’t think to snap a picture of him while we were talking.”
“That’s okay,” Momo said. “Just get us a recent picture of him soon, and we’ll work our magic.”
Tenn held out the picture of himself and his brother at thirteen. “This is the most recent one I have,” he said. “And--I can’t go back to my parents’ place and ask them for a new one, because I’m not allowed to speak to them--and I don’t want to, anyway. It was their fault that Riku was so sick all the time. I mean, who leaves a five year old home alone in charge of his brother? Gaku says that’s fucked up, and I’m inclined to believe him. Five year olds aren’t responsible at all .”
“Right,” said Yuki, who seriously doubted he had ever seen his parents more than once a week when he was five. But Yuki had never been responsible--that was why he had lost Ban.
“Don’t worry!” Momo said cheerfully. “We’re private investigators with mafia connections, we’ll totally be able to get a picture of him. Now, you promised us something, right?”
“Right,” Tenn said, and pulled out his wallet again, producing a fat wad of cash and holding it out to Yuki, who just stared at Tenn, and then Momo, who pocketed it.
“I didn’t mean the money,” Momo said. “I meant the information about Ban.”
“Right,” Tenn said. “It’s nothing big, really. It’s just--the friend I mentioned? The not-so-weak link? After he refused to sell out to Kujo, he went and found Ogami in Tsukumo’s cells--no, I don’t know where those are, if I did I’d already have Riku back. He found Ogami, who’d already lost a good chunk of his memory at that point, and he told him that his friend who he’d run the coffeeshop with hated his guts and had paid Kujo to have him sent there.”
Yuki felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “...What?” he said. “Ban wouldn’t believe that. There’s no way he’d ever believe that.”
“...That’s not a memory they would have taken from him,” Tenn said. “He just would have forgotten everything that came before Tsukumo got him.”
“He still wouldn’t believe that,” Yuki said. Ban--Ban was the smartest person he knew. He would never, ever believe that Yuki would hate him, that Yuki would want to--to get rid of him. Ban had been the most important person in Yuki’s life for so long, and--he knew that. He knew that! He wouldn’t, couldn’t forget that. That Yuki loved him. That Yuki would do anything for him.
Tenn hesitated, looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No,” said Yuki.
“I asked my friends--Gaku and Ryuu--I asked them for information on any of the names I’d gotten. Gaku knows a girl named Tsumugi who knows people in Tsukumo’s company--”
“No,” said Yuki.
“--who know--knew?--your friend. And. When they spoke to him, he said all he remembered of his past was that he’d had a best friend who he had a fight with, who hated him and had him sent there.”
“No,” said Yuki, “you’re lying,” said Yuki, “you’re lying,” said Yuki.
“I’m not,” said Tenn. “Why would I want to lie to you? You’re my last hope of saving my brother!”
“Then I guess you don’t have any hopes left for him!” Yuki snapped, and turned and stalked away. He could hear Momo talking to Tenn, apologizing to him, but he ignored it, slamming his way into Ban’s old room, still left just the way he’d kept it before getting hit by the car, and curled into Ban’s bed--the bottom bunk of their old bunk bed, because Ban had used the top bunk to make a nice sitting area, where they could just sit, and talk, and hang out.
Yuki missed those days.
He buried his face into Ban’s pillow and inhaled deeply, but all he smelled was dust and his own shampoo from the nights he’d spent in here, imagining that Ban was coming home any minute now.
It had been five years since he’d actually believed it, and now playing pretend that he did wouldn’t help. Because--why would Kujo Tenn lie? Yuki knew what it was to lose someone so deeply a part of yourself that you felt like your entire soul was carved in half by their absence. The look in Tenn’s eyes was like the look in Iori’s eyes was like the look in Yuki’s eyes when he realized Ban wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t the boy’s fault that he’d trusted Kujo. It wasn’t his fault his twin brother was gone, or that Yuki’s Ban was gone.
It was Kujo’s fault, for both of theirs, and it was Yuki’s fault, for Ban’s. He should have been better. More capable. He shouldn’t have relied so much on Ban--it was his own fault he’d lost him. It was his own damn fault, and, more than anyone else, he hated himself for it.
He hated himself for it.
They had said Ban had probably died. That his injuries had been too much for him, that he hadn’t really been about to be released. They had told Yuki that he hadn’t come to claim Ban’s body, that it had been donated to science. Yuki had known it was lies, and Okarin had gotten proof that it was lies--that it had happened how Yuki had remembered--but if Ban didn’t remember Yuki anymore, was it like he had died? The Ban Yuki had known might be dead, regardless of his body’s condition.
But the Yuki Ban had known was just as gone, wasn’t he? The Yuki Ban had known could never have conceived of shooting a man dead, hiding a body, any of the morally not great things Yuki had done over the past five years. Maybe the old versions of them both were dead, and they’d meet again like strangers.
Ban probably didn’t remember Yuki. He’d be a stranger to him anyway.
...It should have been Yuki. It shouldn’t have been Ban, Ban whom Yuki loved, Ban who was so good. Ban should have been the one spared. Ban had a life, a teasing grin that softened around the edges for Yuki, a secret cocoa recipe that nobody else could make without burning. What did Yuki have?
Yuki had Momo. And Yuki loved Momo, loved him with every cell in his body, every last spark of fire in his soul, but Momo deserved so much better than him. That first year, some days Yuki could barely drag himself off of the floor. Momo had taken care of him, such good care of him, and what had Yuki given him in return?
Only more troubles.
Momo deserved someone better, someone like Ban, who was perfect in every single way. Yuki had no idea why he’d stayed with him, only that he had, and there were no words for how grateful he was for it. How much he loved him for it.
Instead of trying to say the words, though, Yuki pressed his face deeper into the pillow. He imagined Ban, alone, thinking that Yuki hated him, thinking that Yuki would wish torment and memory loss on him. He imagined a Ban who knew nothing of him other than that, a Ban who more likely than not hated him.
And then Yuki cried.