Work Text:
Latent Criminal.
Ginoza has never hated two words more. Because of those words, his mother cries at night. Because of those words, the other children at school avoid him, or call him names, or sometimes even try to hurt him because they think he deserves it.
Because of those words, he doesn't have a father.
“Why can't you just get better?” he'd screamed when his father left. “Why can't you try harder?”
“When you get older,” his mother told him that night, “you'll understand why.”
Ginoza does understand. But understanding doesn't help anything. It just makes him see everything that his father did wrong, everything that he could have prevented.
Instead, all of them are hurt.
*
When Ginoza is sixteen, Kougami sits across from him at the lunch table, ignores the fact that Ginoza is purposefully staring at his food and sitting with his shoulders hunched in a defensive position, and says, “The food here sucks.”
“Uh-huh,” Ginoza responds. He pokes at his own food, allows his hair to fall into his face, blocking out the other boy.
But Kougami is determined. “I've seen you around before,” he says. “You always eat lunch alone.”
This time Ginoza jerks his head up to glare at Kougami, expecting an insult. Instead, Kougami looks concerned. And he doesn't know how to deal with that.
“You seem smart,” Kougami says. When Ginoza looks confused, he explains, “We have a few classes together. Do you read?”
“Not much,” Ginoza says. He has no idea where this is going.
Kougami stuffs a ball of rice into his mouth and says, “I can give you some recommendations, if you want. Lots of classics, though, so if you're not into those...”
Ginoza spends the rest of the lunch period listening to Kougami go on and on about his favorite books, and he talks with such passion and energy that Ginoza can't bring himself to say that he doesn't like most literature, and that he probably won't read any of them.
Kougami will probably lose interest in him anyway and move on, just like everyone else.
*
“Let me try these.”
Ginoza makes a swipe for his glasses, but Kougami holds them just out of reach, smirking.
“Give them back!”
“Wait—don't you wanna see how I look?” Kougami slides on the glasses and his eyes widen. He flicks them down, then back up, then frowns at Ginoza. “What--”
Ginoza lunges at the same time as Kougami leans forward, which results in Ginoza's hand smashing into Kougami's face. There's a horrible crunch and a sharp pain, and Ginoza yelps and pulls his hand back. There's a cut on his palm, an angry red mark on the bridge of Kougami's nose, and a pair of broken glasses on the table.
They stare at each other.
“They broke,” Ginoza manages.
Kougami starts laughing. Ginoza glares at him, but Kougami doesn't let up, and soon it becomes hard not to smile.
“I'll come with you to get a new pair, if you want,” Kougami suggests, still snickering. “I shouldn't have taken them from you.”
“No,” Ginoza agrees. “They don't suit you.”
*
“Any girls?”
Ginoza chokes on his drink. “Why do you care?” he snaps. Kougami smirks at him.
“I'll take that as a no. Any boys?”
Ginoza actually throws his napkin at Kougami.
It misses.
*
“Is it an intelligence thing?”
Ginoza peers over the frames of his new glasses, frowning. “What?”
“The glasses.”
Ginoza looks down at his notes. They were supposed to be studying, and instead Kougami keeps talking. He did that a lot.
“Because you want to look smart,” Kougami adds.
“No,” Ginoza says.
Kougami stares at him for a moment. Ginoza tries to ignore it, but his notes aren't making sense anymore.
Then Kougami says, “Is it the same reason why you let your hair get in your face?”
“I like my hair long,” Ginoza says.
“That isn't an answer.”
“Why do I let my hair get in my face?” Ginoza asks, because Kougami has an answer for everything.
Kougami takes a minute. It's long enough for Ginoza to be overwhelmed with dread at the possibility of Kougami figuring him out, and he stands up, nearly knocking his chair over.
“I'll see you tomorrow,” he says.
He practically runs home.
*
He's tried to avoid it for so long, but one night he can't sleep, and his mother is dying in the next room.
He realizes, with horrifying clarity, that he wants to become an inspector.
*
“I thought you hated everything to do with inspectors,” Kougami says.
Ginoza adjusts his glasses. “I don't hate inspectors.”
“What makes you think you'll be good?”
Ginoza sighs. From anyone else it would be an insult. “I will want my team to succeed. I know what happens when people fail. And I want to make sure that justice is carried out.”
“You want to prevent people from becoming latent criminals?”
“I didn't say that.”
“You know that job is one of the most stressful, right?”
“Of course.”
“Gino.”
Ginoza turns to him. “What?”
Kougami places a hand on his shoulder. “You put too much on yourself.” Ginoza opens his mouth to protest, but Kougami adds, “I think I'll become an inspector with you.”
That shuts him up.
*
“The stresses of the job are incredibly high,” Chief Kasei tells them. “Not many are suited to work in the Public Safety Bureau. Even among those who show an aptitude for the job, there are those who cannot handle the work, and their crime coefficients rise. This is something each of you need to consider. Especially if you don't react well to stress, or if your family has a history of latent criminals, or if your crime coefficient has already risen in the process of studying for the job.”
Kougami sneaks a look at Ginoza, who stands ramrod straight next to him, eyes trained on the Chief, expression blank. But one of his hands is clenched at his side.
Sometimes Kougami wants to tell Ginoza to find another job, one that doesn't destroy people like being an inspector does. He'd even join him. Sometimes he fears what this job will make of them.
But Ginoza's hue has remained clear, and his crime coefficient low through years of stresses from bullying at school, through his mother's death, through his father leaving the family behind.
There's an argument for either side, and Kougami isn't yet sure where he falls.
*
“Enforcement mode is Lethal Eliminator.”
The calm artificial voice of the dominator followed by a scream. It's his second time out when Ginoza sees the dominator used as a lethal weapon for the first time. The criminal (not victim, never victim) explodes, blood spattering everywhere.
Someone claps him on the shoulder. Ginoza's eyes are wide and he can't look away. There are chunks of the man they'd been chasing sticking to the walls of the room. There are specks of blood on Ginoza's jacket.
“First time?” someone murmurs in his ear. It might be Enforcer Sasayama.
Ginoza forces himself to nod, and to look away. He wants to ask how someone can get used to this. He knows he will, eventually.
He's not sure if that should disturb him.
*
Ginoza becomes an inspector at Division One before Kougami does. Over dinner, Kougami tells him that one of his Enforcers is transferring.
“He's older, but he's good. He has a great nose for--”
Ginoza chokes on his food.
“Keep him.”
Kougami stares. “What?”
“Keep him,” Ginoza repeats. He looks pale and he pushes his food away.
“Why?”
Ginoza closes his eyes. “He's my father.”
*
“Ginoza, do you know what everyone says about you?”
Ginoza sits on the couch behind Shion and her endless computer monitors and adjusts his glasses, a nervous habit. “No. If this is about the cactus incident--”
“It's not,” Shion says, swiveling around in her chair to face him, her lips curved in a smirk, cigarette held almost daintily in her left hand. “But the way you ran all around the building--”
“Then what is it?” Ginoza interrupts. He came for information about his latest case, but it seems like their new tech expert wants to talk about something else.
“People think you worry too much,” Shion says. “That you don't relax. How is this job treating you?”
“You're not a therapist,” Ginoza says with a frown.
“No, but I am the office gossip. And I can help you relax,” Shion says. And then she winks.
Ginoza stares at her. “I-I'm not interested in—ah—no!” He stands up. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
Shion only laughs. “You're not my type,” she says, “but you should relax. Seriously. Even people in other divisions worry about you.”
“You mean, they don't like me,” Ginoza says, narrowing his eyes. “They don't think I'm capable of doing the job.” He wonders if one of those people is Masaoka. Or Kougami. If it's Kougami, he'll punch something.
“They find you a little frustrating sometimes,” Shion says. “A little stiff. Cold. Then again, inspectors are always a little high strung. It must come from having all that responsibility or something. Smoke?”
“No.” Ginoza stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“Do you indulge in anything?”
Ginoza shrugs. “I have a dog.”
Shion sighs. “Well, I guess that's something.”
*
He may be 1000% a virgin (according to Shion and Kagari) but that doesn't bother him in the least.
What does bother him is that he doesn't have someone who will promise to stay, simply for him.
*
Ginoza is cleaning his glasses when a hard slap to the back sends him flying. He spins around to find Kougami frowning at him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Ginoza's jaw drops. “Shouldn't I be asking that question?” He puts his glasses back on and glares at Kougami through the lenses as if to say, you almost broke these.
“You just let her go.”
“Let who go?”
“Aoyanagi,” Kougami says, gesturing down the corridor, now empty.
Ginoza blinks. “What are you--”
“She asked you to have dinner and you said no.”
“I have work to do.”
“Gino.”
Ginoza frowns, losing his patience. “What.”
“She likes you.”
Ginoza pinches the bridge of his nose. “She's older.”
“Not by much.” Kougami leans in, like he's about to tell a secret. “My god, Gino, she isn't retired!”
“She's a colleague.”
Kougami pulls away, eyes narrowed. “What's scaring you?”
As usual, he cuts right to the point.
“Nothing,” Ginoza mutters, brushing past him. “I have work to do.”
*
Ginoza's partner retires, and Kougami becomes his new partner.
“You're reckless,” Ginoza says after their first outing. “You need to step back and think, and let the Enforcers take the risks.”
“What's the point of being an inspector if you don't do anything?”
“We are doing something,” Ginoza says. “We're supervising our subordinates and helping to gather information to solve each case.”
“But we're not on the front lines,” Kougami says.
“And you want to be?” Ginoza asks. “The Enforcers are meant to protect us from becoming clouded.”
“And who protects them?” Kougami asks. “Their lives are in our hands! What, do you think they're dispensable?”
“No,” Ginoza snaps. “But I don't think you are, either!”
Kougami runs a hand through his hair. “You worry too much for this job,” he says. “Your anxiety clouds your ability to investigate.”
“We both know that you're better at this job,” Ginoza says through gritted teeth, “but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't do mine. And part of my responsibility is to make sure that nothing happens to you. As your partner.”
Kougami frowns at him, like he hasn't even realized that was part of the job. “I don't need protecting, Gino.” And then he stands up, takes his empty plate with him.
Ginoza looks at his own plate, still full of food, and wants to smash it to pieces.
*
“Don't you worry about him?”
“About who?”
“Inspector Ginoza.”
Kougami stares at Shion. “Why would I?”
Shion shrugs. “He worries about you.”
*
Over the radio, he feels helpless.
He can shout Kougami's name over and over, loud enough for his voice to break, but that won't stop Kougami from chasing shadows into the darkest places.
When Ginoza points his dominator at Kougami, for the first time, the number is too high, and the weapon releases its safety.
But he doesn't shoot, because this can change.
It has to.
*
“Ginoza-kun, I need to know that if Kougami were to join your ranks as an Enforcer, you would be able to discipline him without your emotions getting in the way.”
The Chief's cold eyes seem to cut right through him, shredding through any pretense of control he'd had. He clenches his fists and tells himself that he needs to do what's necessary. He needs to give Kougami a chance.
“You're angry,” Kasei says. “That is good. You can't trust an enforcer as much as you trusted your partner.”
What changed? It's a question that Ginoza asks himself too often. A number has determined that Kougami is no longer fit to be his partner. A number determined that his father was no longer fit to be a father.
Is Kougami no longer his friend?
“I can do what is necessary,” Ginoza says. “Division One needs the numbers, and there is no one more qualified to investigate serious criminal activity than Enforcer Kougami.”
A tiny voice in Ginoza's head tells him that he can't do this without Kougami. That he isn't qualified to manage both his best friend and his father, not when he's furious at them. Not when he feels like everything is slipping through his fingers.
Kasei's eyes seem to tell him that he can't do this, either. But perhaps it's his imagination.
“You will be assigned a new partner shortly,” Kasei says. “I trust you will be more careful with this one.”
It's his fault that Kougami became a latent criminal.
He can't let that happen again.
*
Akane is cute. Kagari says so loudly and often.
Kougami thinks that Akane can be useful. He likes her sharp mind. He likes seeing the way her expression sharpens when she's thinking. He watches her face often, when they're investigating.
It's better than seeing the coldness in Ginoza's eyes. The way he frowns at everything now. The way his eyes don't stay on Kougami's face for longer than they have to. The way he'd rather not look at Kougami at all.
And Kougami thinks, fine. That's fine.
He's almost relieved when bodies start turning up.
*
It becomes like an obsession. The fluctuation of numbers, human emotions converted into hard data. Her color is so clear, her number so low. Even after she's been with them for a few months, after she's been tested and tried, she's still fine. He wonders how she does it.
She talks to Kougami more than she talks to him. They get along.
Ginoza doesn't get along with anyone anymore. He concentrates on his work.
He needs to do his job by protecting Akane from clouding her hue, and by managing the Enforcers, and by solving crimes. Division One has an incredible success rate, only marred by the case that cost Kougami his job. Now that Ginoza is the senior inspector, he wants to maintain that record.
Akane has excellent observational skills and a calm way of dealing with people. She has a determination that Ginoza hasn't seen in anyone besides Kougami.
She gives him hope, even when she's making him frustrated.
*
“If you smiled more you'd be able to screw anyone,” Shion says. “And maybe if you lost the glasses. But some people like that.”
Ginoza sighs. “Camera feeds. Three block radius in either direction.”
Shion sighs. “You're no fun.”
“I'm not here to be fun.”
“And that's why you can't get laid.”
Ginoza folds his arms over his chest. He doesn't want to get laid. He wants
*
Kougami goes down, and Kasei's cold hands disappear. There's the noise of people moving around, taking Kougami to the infirmary. Akane accompanies him.
Ginoza feels his skin grow cold, and he walks back into the building, ignoring concerned looks from everyone else. As soon as he's out of sight, the walk turns into a run.
The bathroom is empty. He heads for the last stall and drops in front of the toilet, retching. Nothing comes up. He hasn't eaten today, but his body is still trying to get rid of something. There's a horrible bitterness at the back of his throat that feels like it's choking him.
Eventually it stops, and he stands, a bit unsteady, makes his way to the sink, and turns on the hot water. It feels like it barely manages to touch the cold that has leeched into his bones. He can't quite shake the feeling of Kasei's skin on his, guiding his hand, guiding his dominator, telling him to shoot...
The water stings and he looks down. His hands are red. He pulls them away from the sink. A chill sweeps over him, causing him to shiver.
He should go see Kougami. He should talk to Akane. He can't see Chief Kasei. But he knows he'll have to again. It's part of his job.
He leans against the sink, taking deep breaths. His therapist would tell him to talk to someone now, but he feels like if he does, he'll start screaming. There are no easy solutions.
In an ideal world, he'd be talking to Kougami.
Instead, Kougami is on the other end of his dominator.
*
Akane and Kougami have all the observational skills in the world, but they don't see that Ginoza is falling apart.
He can't process that his number is rising, and that he's failing.
At least there's familiarity in being forgotten.
*
Kougami writes a letter to Akane, but not to Gino.
He knows he should. He knows that when Ginoza yells at them, glares at them, calls them dogs, it isn't out of malice. Ginoza expresses worry through anger because showing he cares in any other way is too dangerous.
Kougami hasn't felt guilty about anything he's done in the past three years, but this might be the one thing that gets him. With Akane, he can tell her why and she will move on.
Gino knows why, but that won't stop him from feeling hurt again.
Kougami knows that he's wounded Ginoza before, and that the wound never healed, and now he's going to dig in deeper and cause it to bleed. But he isn't the only person Ginoza has. And Ginoza has to know that it isn't personal.
*
Dime licks Ginoza's cheek, and Ginoza buries his face in Dime's fur. There aren't tears. He's past that now.
But he's on the kitchen floor in his apartment, an abandoned cup of tea sitting on the counter because he'd been trying not to let it hit him and it did anyway.
“I'm not worth staying for,” he'd said to himself.
He believes it, too.
*
It shouldn't hurt, that Masaoka helped Kougami get away, but it does.
It feels like another betrayal.
“You really miss him, huh?” Shion asks him when he tells her the news.
“No,” Ginoza says. “He's an idiot and he's made the wrong choice. He left to become a vigilante and there's nothing left for him here.”
“It wouldn't feel like a betrayal if you didn't miss him, though, right?” She levels her gaze with his, and for a moment, he's speechless.
“I--”
“How are you, Ginoza?”
Ginoza shuts his mouth. He's not fine, nothing is fine, but he can't go pouring his heart out to Shion of all people. Shion, who collects gossip like he collects coins. Shion, who's sleeping with one of his Enforcers and thinks he doesn't know about it. Shion, who flirts shamelessly with everyone and only means it part of the time.
“I know what you're thinking,” Shion says, flicking ash off her cigarette. “I can't keep my mouth shut. Why should you tell me anything? But you know, I'm great at listening. And I don't bullshit, either.” She takes a long drag, blows out smoke. “You're not fine.”
“After we capture Makishima and bring Kougami in, I will be.”
At least, that's what he tells himself.
*
He isn't hungry anymore. There's no room for sleep. Every time he tries, there's something else to worry about. Worrying about Akane, who seems different. About the Enforcers, who seem to be dropping like flies. That horrible ache in his chest when he thinks about Kougami and how he's never been good enough for Kougami's loyalty, or his friendship. And now Kougami's gone, and he couldn't stop him just like he couldn't stop his father and he's pushed everyone away by being an asshole and if he doesn't laugh about the irony of having a dangerously high crime coefficient because of all this, he'll sob or scream or break something.
He feels dangerously inadequate, not good enough. Akane gives him hope, he wasn't lying about that, but she also makes him feel inferior. Because she's good. She's better than he ever was. She can contribute more than he ever will.
He's become a shadow. Where Kougami solidified when put under stress, Ginoza is fading.
He catches Akane sneaking glances at him when they're both trying to figure out where Makishima could have gone after his escape. He ignores her, concentrates on the data in front of him.
He wonders what he'd say if Akane asked if he was alright.
But she doesn't ask. Maybe he imagined her looking.
*
They don't have time to talk when they next meet. Kougami doesn't want to see any of them. The only person he wants to see is Makishima. If he sees anyone else, it will have gone wrong.
But he hears fighting and runs towards the action, because of course Makishima wouldn't make it easy.
He finds Masaoka on the floor, and Ginoza kneeling over him. It takes a moment to process why, when he sees the blood.
And then Ginoza looks up at him.
He's not seeing him. He looks like a horrified young boy. He looks shell-shocked. He looks destroyed. He looks painfully lost.
It stops Kougami in his tracks.
There's Makishima ahead, and Ginoza here, staring at him with his father lying dead underneath him and for a moment he thinks that he should comfort his friend, but then the anger flares and he sees red, and Makishima is responsible for this, Makishima put that (terrifying, he never wants to see it again) look on Ginoza's face, and Makishima will be killed.
*
Everything loses focus and becomes washed out watercolors of red and brown.
He won't let go of his father's coat, even as he passes out.
*
There's a bed against one wall, a desk against the other, and the side facing the corridor is made of glass. Everything is white. He's been told that he can decorate, but he doesn't.
No matter how you dress it up, it's still a cage. And right now, he's trapped.
He lays on the bed and looks up at the ceiling. His metal arm feels cold, everything hurts, he feels weak from blood loss. He still hasn't recovered, they tell him. Not just physically, but mentally. He can still feel the sensation of skin and muscle tearing off bone, and it makes him wake up screaming. And then a strange gas fills the room and the next thing he knows, it's several hours later and he's drowsy and confused and a little scared.
And always he's alone.
It reminds him, uncomfortably, of childhood.
*
“I want you on my team, if you want to be part of it,” Akane tells him.
The sincerity of the words makes his heart beat faster. He doesn't even really think about it before he says, “Yes.”
The thinking comes later.
*
Countless people have told him, “You should have someone.”
It isn't that Ginoza doesn't think he needs people. He needs them. He knows he needs them. But they don't stay, and he needs to not feel abandoned when they leave more than he needs to have them around.
When he looks at someone and thinks that maybe they could have something together, he sees them walking out on him. Whenever he imagines the future, he always sees himself alone.
He's learned from experience.
Being an Enforcer relaxes him. But he lets his guard down, and when he thinks he might have something with Aoyanagi, she dies.
Back in high school, when Kougami defended him against his classmates who tormented him about his father's latent criminal status, Ginoza thought that if there was anyone he'd like to have in his life until he died, it would be Kougami.
But he knows now that Kougami didn't see him in the same way.
*
He looks different. The glasses are gone. His black hair is tied up in a ponytail. One of his hands is covered in a glove, and Kougami knows that it's cybernetic. Everything about him seems more relaxed, up until the point where he realizes who's watching him.
But in some ways, Ginoza looks exactly the same. His hair still falls into his eyes, which widen when they see Kougami. Ginoza's expression still closes off after the initial surprise, and the frown he wears is just as severe as it was back when Kougami was an Enforcer working underneath him. He becomes sharp.
“You lost the glasses,” Kougami says, offering a tentative grin.
“I lost a lot,” Ginoza snaps.
Kougami winces, the smile fades. It's cutting. He thought he'd be ready. He thought he'd come to terms with the choices he'd made.
Ginoza still has the ability to make him feel guilty.
He doesn't know what to say, and he doesn't get the chance to say anything because Akane appears and Ginoza steps back and lets her deal with him instead.
*
“I'm sorry.”
Ginoza picks at the sleeve of his sweater, which he'd changed into in the hopes of being left alone. But Kougami's in his apartment (his cage, as he'd once cynically called it) and very much won't leave him alone.
Kougami sits on Ginoza's couch. Ginoza stands, because he can't sit. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, allows his fingers to dig into the fabric of his sweater. He wishes he had his glasses still, just to have another barrier between him and Kougami.
“You've changed,” Kougami says.
“You haven't,” Ginoza says.
“I am sorry,” Kougami insists. “You don't believe me.”
“I do,” Ginoza says. Kougami's eyes widen slightly. “That doesn't mean you won't leave again.”
“I'd rather not,” Kougami says. “You know it's complicated.”
“It wouldn't be,” Ginoza snaps, “if you hadn't left the first time.”
“I'm sorry.” Kougami stands, and Ginoza takes a step back. “Gino...”
Ginoza can't look at him anymore. He looks at the carpet, which belonged to his father.
“I know what's scaring you,” Kougami says. Ginoza's hands clench into fists, pulling at his sleeves. He closes his eyes, which are burning. “You don't want to lose anyone. But Gino, everyone goes sooner or later, for whatever reason. No one stays in one place forever.”
“That's not it,” Ginoza chokes on the words. “Idiot.”
Kougami sounds closer now. “I thought...”
“I want someone to think I'm worth staying for.” It comes out too loud, like he's shouting. He'd had time to come to terms with Kougami being gone, with his father being gone. Kougami wasn't supposed to return. Because the people who left him didn't return. That was what his experience dictated.
It would be cruel to make him lose the same person twice.
For Kougami to leave him twice.
A pair of hands rests on his arms. He tries to pull away, but Kougami holds him fast.
“Look at me,” he says.
Ginoza glares at him. Their faces are close.
“I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed,” he says.
Ginoza wants to yell at him. To tell him that he could be, if he tried. He can't get the words out. He jerks forward instead, placing a hand behind Kougami's neck, and kisses him.
It isn't gentle. It's hungry and painful, the force of it causing Kougami to take a few steps back. But they don't separate, because Ginoza holds him close, the hand on Kougami's neck now clutching at his hair.
Kougami kisses back.
They become lost in each other, until they've lost balance and Ginoza ends up on the couch, and Kougami leans over him and places a hand on his crotch.
Ginoza pulls the hand off and says, “That isn't what I want.”
“I thought you--”
“I want to be with you,” Ginoza tells him. “Not like that. That isn't what I need.”
Kougami drops down next to him. Ginoza rests his head on Kougami's shoulder.
“I'm an idiot,” Ginoza murmurs.
“I'll stay,” Kougami says.
*
Ginoza's hair is soft, unlike the rest of him.
The guilt starts to fade.