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Tachihara throws aside his dark green jacket with the fur along the hood and stays with the sleeveless shirt underneath. He doesn't consider himself that brawny, but compared to Gin, he's quite imposing. The kid is ridiculously slender and has hardly any muscle on him, he even keeps the jacket on during training to hide his lacking build.
“Guns away”, Hirotsu orders as he idly walks towards the corner of the training room.
Tachihara spins his pistols and places them on the ground. “See?” he asks Gin mockingly. “Your turn”.
Gin removes two knives strapped on his thighs. Tachihara cocks an eyebrow. Gin removes another one from his belt. The redhead smirks. “That’s more like it. Let’s get this over with”.
Tachihara has accepted that he will never be as quick as Gin. The boy darts around him faster than lightning to find a weak spot to hit and Tachihara feels the air escaping his lungs as he receives a jab to the ribs. He strikes where Gin stood mere seconds ago, but he’s always slipping just out of his reach and Tachihara's patience soon thins out.
“Stop moving, you little shit!”
Gin steps back slowly after a while. Tachihara reckons he’s tired from running around. Without losing the slippery bastard from his sight, he clutches his side in pain. Gin’s hands are small, his blows are strong and they hurt like bullets. To his satisfaction, Tachihara has managed a good one on the boy’s leg. He smiles triumphantly when the silent assassin rubs a spot over his knee which he can tell hurts, regardless of the feigned aloofness he plasters over his face.
Tachihara barely has the time to shield his face when Gin launches himself from the other side of the room and punches him on the nose. Everything spins and he reels off-balance. He smells metal. Comfort. Tachihara dodges a blow in the last minute and sweeps his opponent's leg. He senses the fourth knife hidden in Gin’s boot. He grabs it and before the boy can react, Tachihara has blocked his arms and pressed the blade against his throat.
Gin’s eyes are widened in surprise, he thrashes attempting to free an arm, but in vain. Tachihara applies more pressure –definitely more than needed- and Gin stays still. The gunslinger relishes in the vibrations of the boy's shaky breaths travelling up the blade.
“Not so fearsome now, eh, Gin?”
If glares could kill, he’d be six feet under. The thought amuses him further, however, so he leans closer to enjoy Gin’s stare of pure hate and those steel-grey eyes glinting with rage. “Take a taste of your own medicine, creep”.
Tachihara notices that the boy forces himself to keep looking him in the eyes as his glance flickers momentarily to his grin, which everyone hates except Tachihara himself –but that’s what makes it fun.
“Oi, Tachihara!”
Chuuya’s voice. He didn’t even hear him entering. He smells smoke, Hirotsu has lit a cigarette.
“Stop flirting with Gin, get this over with!” Chuuya urges him, showing an unusual interest in their training session.
“Oh, piss off”, he scoffs quietly. Gin's ears are red. Tachihara regains his composure, this is the good part. “Surrender”, he orders his opponent with a complacent grin. It’s his favourite part of training on the days when he defeats Gin. They aren’t required to do it, technically one wins whenever the other should be dead in a real fight, but Tachihara would be damned if he said he doesn’t enjoy seeing the oh-so-fearsome assassin bitterly admitting his defeat. He's never immobilized him like that before, though, never by straddling his chest and with his own weapon threatening to cut his life short. Maybe that's why Gin looks a whole different kind of uncomfortable.
“Surrender”, he orders again, drawing a drop of blood from the boy's neck.
It will be fun cleaning your blood from your knives instead of mine for once, brat.
Gin nods ever so slightly, it’s all he can do. It’s enough for Tachihara. He gets up, freeing his opponent’s hands and throws the knife far enough so that Gin doesn’t gut him alive while he’s putting on his jacket.
Hirotsu holds the cigarette between two fingers and blows a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. “Winner... Tachihara”, he declares without looking away from the impressive shape he managed to mold the smoke into. He’s bored enough that he has to watch them so that they don’t kill each other, he doesn’t want to face Tachihara’s smirk on top of that. Chuuya, on the other hand, looks satisfied. “Good one”, he says and walks towards the exit.
“Aren’t you gonna say anythin’, gramps?” Tachihara asks, fixing his hood. “Even Chuuya said I was good”.
A sharp pain across his back washes the grin off of his face. Even Hirotsu looks up and Chuuya holds the door open, frozen in place. Gin has swung one of his knives against him, now Tachihara’s jacket is torn and there’s a neat superficial cut on his skin. His blood trails down slowly, painting the pine green a bright ruby red.
“Petty”, Chuuya comments amused.
Tachihara’s eyes widen and his hands find his pistols. Kid or not, Gin will pay. “You little-”
“Training’s over”, Hirotsu orders. “Tachihara! Weapons down!”
He takes aim, a vein ticks in his jaw. One second. Two. His opponent's challenging stare makes rage stir in his chest, hot like his blood. The pistol loads almost without him touching it. “Tachihara,” Hirotsu warns again, and purple starts to glow in his palm. "Do not draw attention. It's not worth it," a familiar nonchalant voice he's not heard in years echoes across his head, paired with a lazy smile and eyes forever screwed shut. That memory grounds him, he spins the pistols and places them back to the holsters. He tears his gaze off of Gin to look at his leader instead. “Fine, old man.”
Gin’s look is one of smug satisfaction. He can even picture him smirking faintly under the mask. Payback hurts, his eyes seem to be saying.
He finds out on an insignificant normal day, or whatever normal is supposed to feel like in the Mafia.
Tachihara isn’t one to eavesdrop, it’s for little kids and for snitches, but as he’s walking down the dark corridor a door is ajar and a single ray of light slips towards the corridor and like a firefly, Tachihara walks towards it mesmerised. He's with his back to the wall, peering around the corner. Hirotsu stands with his back to the door, hiding the person he's speaking to from Tachihara's sight. Initially it seems like he's talking to himself, but Tachihara has had his fair share of one-sided conversations with Gin to know when that wraith of a man is present. He feels his knives somewhere behind Hirotsu, like beacons signalling his presence. The leader's tone is placating and just a little softer than Tachihara has ever heard it before.
“He’s not being watched, Gin. And, no, Higuchi will not be reporting his actions to the Boss”.
They’re talking about Akutagawa. Tachihara realises he's stopped breathing to listen in. He's been trying like desperate to find out what was said when Mori invited Akutagawa in his office just a few weeks ago, but everyone's lips are sealed. He's tried coaxing a word or two from Higuchi, but to no avail, and when he confided his frustration in Gin once during patrol, the boy looked upset like he planned to gut him right then and there.
“Gin, the Boss knows about his promise to the weretiger, to not kill people for six months. But he doesn’t approve of it”.
Tachihara shivers involuntarily. Whenever Mori doesn’t approve of something, someone ends up dead, but Tachihara never expected Akutagawa of all people to be targeted by Mori. Not in his wildest dreams. Nobody's safe in the Mafia, it seems.
There is a deep, strained sigh and Tachihara steps back, nervous to have been caught, but turns out it was just Gin. He was rightfully surprised, the boy never produces a sound-
“My brother isn’t expendable”.
Tachihara holds his breath. Gin clearly tried to make the voice deeper, but what he just heard is under no circumstances a boy’s voice, young or old.
It’s unmistakably a girl’s voice.
Gin is a girl.
Gin is...
“And neither are you, Gin”, Hirotsu says. “Mori needs you in the Black Lizard. He will not harm either of you. No benefit would come from it”.
Tachihara releases a shaky breath. He can suddenly feel each and every knife he –she carries. One strapped to her waist, one on her thigh, two in her boots, one on her forearm under her sleeve-
Stop.
Stop fixating on her.
Tachihara’s heart is throbbing, he feels his pulse pounding against his temples, he swallows and realises he must walk away, but he can’t. He stands in the dark, staring at Gin.
Gin is a girl.
Akutagawa is her brother.
Gin Akutagawa of the Black Lizard.
Gin Akutagawa, the assassin.
“He can’t kill Ryuunosuke”. Her voice is now much closer to what her real one must sound like, a voice he never expected to belong to an assassin. A voice that reminds him of cherry trees, of the sunlight reflecting from a river’s surface, cannot belong to an assassin.
“Tachihara!”
Chuuya walks towards him. Hirotsu and Gin turn their heads abruptly and Gin’s grey eyes meet his own. She isn’t glaring, she’s too surprised. Like when you get stabbed or shot, Tachihara thinks, confusion comes first, anger afterwards.
His fingers shake, he clenches his hands into fists and walks down the hall towards Chuuya, pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping. It’s for little kids and for snitches after all.
“What were you doin’ creeping around in the shadows? That’s Gin’s job”, Chuuya comments.
Tachihara wonders whether the look he’s shooting right now to someone higher in the rank than him could get him fired or murdered. He hopes it’s hateful enough for that. “Was just passing. We use the corridors to get to places, y’ know. Some of us can’t fly”.
Chuuya chuckles and if he could, Tachihara would shoot the bastard right then and there.
“Tachihara!”
It’s Hirotsu this time, who has swung the door open and uses the tone that until this day, Tachihara has never disobeyed.
There is a first time for everything, though, because he’s feeling his cheeks burning, from embarrassment that Chuuya caught him eavesdropping, he tells himself, and he opens the door on his right.
“TACHIHARA!”
Hirotsu never shouts. Tachihara’s job is at stake here if he doesn’t turn around, -his job is the least, actually- but regardless, he opens the door and vanishes into the dark alleys of Yokohama.
A few days have gone by and Tachihara has been neither fired nor murdered. Seems like Hirotsu trusts him more than he thought.
They have just returned from another mission, during which Tachihara taunted and quipped like usual and everything felt normal, as if nothing happened.
They’re now in the maze of dark dirty alleys just outside the headquarters. “Good job”, Hirotsu says. He’s more stern than usual, but still, he never spoke to Tachihara about that day. The redhead takes a step towards the door, but Hirotsu's hand is already on the handle. “You two behave,” he says dryly, shooting a dangerous glance at Tachihara.
When he closes the door behind him, Gin has taken the leader's place in front of him.
That’s why Hirotsu never spoke to him. Gin will clear it up.
“What?” Tachihara asks. His hand find a pistol just in case. “What?” he repeats. “Speak. I know you can”.
“How much?” she asks. How much have you heard?
Her hand is in her pocket, her fingers coiled tightly around the hilt of her knife. He feels the blade, cold and smooth and clean. She hasn’t used it at all during the mission, this blade is saved just for him.
“You’re Akutagawa Ryuunosuke’s little sister”, Tachihara replies, taking his time. “And, you know what, I can actually see the resemblance”.
He reaches out to tilt her chin up and his fingers barely manage to do so before she grabs his wrist and pushes him against the wall, a knife on his throat.
Tachihara smiles despite the pain on his back from the cut she caused during training. “Yeah, right there. Also, I learned you’re doubting Mori”.
That actually causes her to worry. She grits her teeth. “You tell a soul about this...”
“Hey, Gin”, he interrupts, “your name is still Gin, right? I’m no snitch. I ain’t gonna sell you out to Mori, or whoever you’re afraid of”.
She presses the blade harder.
“Oh, come on”, he rolls his eyes, “Don’t tell me you were insulted. Everyone’s afraid of something”.
There is an obvious threat in her grey eyes as she ponders his words and whether they could be real or not. There is a gap between her knife and his neck, she’s left some space, which he knows she’ll close if he attempts to flee. They both know he won’t. Running is for cowards.
“Why?” she asks eventually.
Why. Such an idiotic question.
Because she’s the silent creep, always lurking in the shadows, but she has his back when no one else does. Because sometimes, on good days, when Tachihara makes a joke, Gin smiles under her mask and it shows in her eyes. Because in the next minute, they’re at each other’s throats and Hirotsu has to order them to behave.
Because Gin Akutagawa is the closest he has to a friend.
“Nothin’ to win”, he replies.
Nothing to win, much to lose.
She lets go of him and takes a step back.
“You will remain silent”.
“You know I will”.
Tachihara finds himself wondering how heavy she is. He’s picked her up and thrown her throughout training quite a few times, but he has the unusual urge to grab her by the waist and lift her up, look into her grey eyes when they’re not glaring at him.
He knows it would be the last thing he’d ever do, but boy, would it be worth it.
They’re training again, just like they used to, in the room with the thousand-year-old ceiling lights, Hirotsu in a corner, the pistols away and Tachihara screaming bloody murder because he can’t catch Gin.
He isn’t as determined as he used to be, so Gin manages to grab his arm and throw him to the ground, using –surprise surprise- a knife to keep him in place.
“This is why I never told you”, she says quietly under her mask. “You’re not fighting me”.
He’s right under the lamp on the ceiling, maybe its light was the glint she saw in his amber eyes. “You want fight?” he grins. He manages to free his hand from under Gin’s knee, because Gin is skilled, but she isn’t heavier than him, grabs her wrist and manages to switch positions. He’s straddling her chest, his knees block her hands and the knife is against her throat.
“I’ll give you fight”. It almost feels like old times, with him leaning closer to gloat.
Her breath tickles his ear. Too close. He has the urge to back off immediately, but stops himself, that would show weakness and weaknesses are to be exploited.
“Surrender”.
Her eyes flicker away from his momentarily, she glances at his pursed lips that still form a smug smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She immediately meets his stare again, Tachihara feels her fist clenching under his knee.
“Stop flirting with Gin”, Chuuya’s taunt pops in his mind uninvited. Back then, it had had no effect on him, but now...
Now he’s holding her knife. Now he’s uncomfortably close, claustrophobically close.
Now he feels a sharp pain on his back as Gin kicks him and switches again, she gets the upper hand.
“Weakness”, she says.
Of course she was pretending. What else could she be thinking.
“Don’t flatter yourself”, he retorts, hoping she can’t feel his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her voice, which he still hasn’t gotten used to.
“Surrender”, she says for the first time –and he can hear she’s been waiting for years for this very moment to arrive. For the moment when she can use her voice and not just head tilts and her stare to say "surrender". He can see Hirotsu over Gin’s shoulder, watching them. She even lets him breathe, removing the knife by a centimetre so that Tachihara can say it loud and clear.
“I surrender”.
A second passes. Two. Gin savours her win and Tachihara’s glare before she gets off. His head feels like lead.
“Winner...” Hirotsu lights another cigarette. “...Gin”.
He’s gotten out in the dark alleyways where only stray cats hang out. He walks through the narrow alleys of Yokohama for what feels like hours, he’s away from the Mafia now, close to the river.
Their training plays in his head on repeat and he can’t get it to stop. Gin’s dark grey eyes. The moment he let himself be distracted. The pain on his back from the cut. Gin being upset a million years ago, when Chuuya ordered them to stop flirting.
He kicks a tin can to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Fake. Real. Fake. Real.
The river glitters under the afternoon sun. It hurts his eyes. Where is he even going? Away from her, that’s all that matters. Away from whatever she’s doing to him, whatever makes his head feel light and heavy at the same time. He has to concentrate. No liabilities, no friendships are allowed for someone like him.
“Tachihara”.
He holds his breath.
She followed him, silent like a cat and as deadly as a black widow. Or as a very angry cat.
He doesn’t know why he stopped. Maybe because it’s the first time he’s heard it spoken by her. Gin’s voice almost cleanses his name, almost makes every wrong he’s done not matter anymore. His heart starts beating a tad faster and he doesn’t like that. He hates that. However, he turns around.
She isn’t wearing her gloves. She’s still sweaty from their training, and he feels it’s too soon after that to be looking at her.
Her spiky bun is half undone, her hair looks soft, rippling as she walks. Her cheeks are pink from training and she doesn’t wear a murderous look for once. Perfect in her imperfection.
No, he doesn’t want to look at her. He doesn’t want her to be there, he doesn't want her to disappear like a ghost, leaving him alone.
She steps closer, facing him. Both are trapped there with each other, their back to one wall and their front to a deadly assassin with nothing -everything- to lose.
Gin reaches out slowly to bridge the gap between them. She gives him every opportunity to back off, but Tachihara doesn’t, so the featherlight touch on his face comes. Her calloused hands trace his cheek and trail to his nose. Her fingers linger on the plaster over it. He grits his teeth but doesn’t move. If she takes it off, it will mean nothing. It will mean everything. He reads the question in her eyes and he remains neutral, leaving it all up to her. She takes it off slowly, the wind feels cold on the exposed skin underneath.
He stares at her, she knows at what exactly. Tachihara reaches for the top of her mask, expecting to feel her fingers around his wrist, he recalls her firm grip... but it never comes. He lowers the mask under her chin, the joint of his index finger brushes her lips.
His eyes widen slightly, it’s the first time he sees her face. Colour stains her ears and cheeks from training, her eyebags are darker than usual from the late night missions, there is a cut on her lower lip. He never knew what to expect, but this is more beautiful, more real than anything he could imagine. Gin places her hands on his shoulders, simply to show she isn’t holding a knife, her eyes expectant. This is me.
Maybe it’s the touch of her hands, maybe it’s the light reflecting from the river in contrast to the brick wall background, but Gin looks otherworldly. Her fingers intertwine behind his neck, her hands are cold, somehow. She isn’t sure what to do and he stays perfectly still.
Tachihara feels his heartbeat pounding against his neck, right on the spot where Gin always pressed her knives, sometimes leaving him no option but to back up against the walls. He hated it when she did that. He smirks and there’s smug in his face, but also something genuine. He leans in closer and her back touches the red bricks, anticipation burns in her eyes.
“Payback’s a bitch, Gin”, he whispers right next to her ear.
Then he seals his lips over hers, pressing her against the wall. Her fingers are in his messy hair and his arm is around her waist. She tilts her head to the side so that it feels more comfortable, so that it feels right. She doesn't see his smile, but she feels it.
Tachihara's lips trail down to the the spot on her neck where there’s a mark on his own from her knives, he feels her pulse and the sound that comes from the back of her throat.
“I have to go back”, she whispers.
“In a minute”.
He kisses her again, then grabs her waist and lifts her. Gin gasps surprised and holds on to him. She’s now above Tachihara, who holds her onto his chest, she looks into his amber eyes while her fingers comb through his hair.
She’s not at all heavy.
“I have to take you out sometime”, he says as her lips hover over his own.
“Date or murder?” Gin asks.
A smile tugs at his lips when he thinks about the mostly healed scar on his back. “Both”.
Her grey eyes shine in the afternoon light. Her smile is the last thing Tachihara sees before she leans closer, his eyelids flutter shut and he loses himself in the scent of lemon of her hair and the faint taste of blood from the small cut on her lower lip.
He could get used to this.