Work Text:
The position of Bureau Chief Advisor was a lofty one.
Technically it hadn’t been used in generations, since an event where the chief was too weak to fight after a series of historic ghoul attacks had called him to the field, and left him too weak to run the organization.
Technically, by holding it Koori was second to only one in the hierarchy.
An almost laughable concept, considering how insignificant he felt.
(If Kichimura died today, he’d be the director, right?)
The day he had encouraged what seemed to be a timid man thrust into a position he wasn't entirely ready for, now seemed like a sick joke.
He wasn't even certain why, out of all the people now under Kichimura's thumb, he was the one chosen for the position. His "advise" very rarely was actually needed, and part of him thought that it was just some kind of weird display of power over his former superior.
The office space they were moved to was just as ornate and ridiculous as one might've anticipated, checked floor, sweeping ceiling, and ornate glass windows. It was cold and sterile, with far too much space for the single desk that occupied it.
Koori missed the lower ranks of the CCG.
There had still been that lingering doubt, that office-feeling of overly clean hallways, desks, and a mix of bored anticipation and dread for that next call for a ghoul extermination. The danger was both reward and punishment for idleness.
And yet there was life, and noise, coworkers walking back and forth to carry things from place, someone complaining about a promotion of a friend they didn’t receive despite working on the same operation,
young recruits teasing each other,
Haise making jokes, someone laughed at awkwardly out of obligation.
Take, and on rare occasion Arima, observing in a small moment before they were ushered away and if you looked at just the right moment you might catch them cracking a smile, and-
Ihei, smiling, dreaming, Ihei, leaning over his desk and asking him questions that made little sense. Mysterious in a way that didn’t provoke disturbance, because he hadn’t needed to know.
In his mind he fantasized that one day she’d lean over just a bit further across that desk and kiss him, whisper all the secrets of that dreamy mind in his ear for him to keep and treasure when they’d lie together at night, with her pink hair fanned out around her head like a crown,
and she’d teach him how to smile like she did, teach him how to enjoy his purpose.
And then she was gone, and Koori had never really known who she was, or how she did it.
She would always be across that desk, leaning ever so close, but never touching.
Furuta was somewhat similar in that regard, but Koori didn’t really want him to come closer. He too, was always leaning, over his shoulder, up into his face, promising falsehoods and influencing decisions. Inches apart but held back by something, (and this time Koori was glad for it.)
He was also glad for the words themselves, and, sometimes unknowingly, appreciated this caricature of life itself, his subconscious motivations brought to the surface and danced about, with no need to be doubted, because they weren’t his choices.
Koori supposed this was the sort of reality each of Kichimura’s facades lived in perpetually. Puppeted. How much truth was in each broken-off piece of the bureau chief? Was there any at all?
Pity and disgust twirled around each other in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about it.
“Would you rather live in a dust pan or let me poke out your eyes?”
“What–? Not now Hairu—”
“Oh, I see someone’s zoned out a little, haha!"
Pink hair,
Dark hair,
Dead eyes.
Koori made a startled coughing noise as he was jolted back into the present, Kichimura leering over him like a shadow, perched on the edge of the desk like a vulture.
“Don’t you have work to do?” He muttered, glancing to the side awkwardly.
“Correction, we have work to do. You’re not just going to leave me all alone to finish this, are you Koori? You know I can’t focus for long on things that don’t interest me.”
He was certain that Kichimura would’ve had no issue doing all of this himself, distractions or not, but the purpose of a question like that was very rarely to receive an honest question. Instead, almost thoughtlessly, he just said,
“You’re a terrible boss.”
Kichimura raised an eyebrow under that slick curtain of hair, wide-eyed and blinking. Like a bastardous cat.
“Compared to who? Arima?”
Yeah, because Arima cared but didn’t show it. You show and don’t care.
“...Well, I’m always looking for ways to improve. Tell me advisor, what can we do? That’s your job right? What sort of things did the perfect Arima do for you?”
Koori pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I don’t know, he used to let Take and I practice our skills with the quinque by fighting him…
Nimura kicked away from the desk, and was on his feet in a moment.
“A brilliant idea, the contestant wins first prize! Let’s do it now.”
Koori’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“We don’t have the time to go down to the training area, besides…”
"Well, they’ve given me this large office and nothing breakable to put in it, so I think we’ll be fine.”
Half-formed sentences of protest died in his throat as Furuta- no, Kichimura, reached for the chainsaw at the foot of his desk and tucked it under his arm.
“Ready?’
Koori hesitated for a moment longer before standing and neatly sweeping the messy contents of their desk into a pile. Did he ask for this? Not necessarily, but being swept along into whatever whims and plans struck the Bureau chief was the pattern of his life these days. Never certain if the strings that pulled him along were being tugged in any given direction, or just contorted awkwardly for amusement's sake
If nothing else he did want to see where this could be leading. If he could attack the director in any meaningful way.
His halberd was carefully unfurled from its silver case, with the practiced hand of someone who’d done this before, time and time again.
“Ready.”
Furuta’s quinque was a heavier hitter than Taruhi, but it was also unwieldy and inherited. Koori was used to dodging the clumsy attacks of ghouls used to running, not fighting.
No one really had a good grasp on Kichimura’s fighting capabilities, but even still, as one of the former right-hands to the strongest in the CCG... he should’ve been confident.
But those dull eyes, tinged with poisonous fuschia just caused unease.
Furuta revved up the thing’s machine, and swung.
In a matter of seconds all his suspicions were proved incorrect, Kichimura was quick, almost inhumanly so, ducking and laughing, weaving through each jab of Taruhi with ease.
Kick, twirl, be careful. (Lol)
The lash of its whip was just something to keep time to, the sharp edge just a partner in dance, and yet,
Koori was winning.
And oh, it felt so wrong.
At seemingly random intervals Kichimura was stuck, he stepped back further than he needed to, his quinque was used more as a distraction than a weapon, slicing up the whip-end of taruhi with a deft agility, only for it to come right back unharmed and untouched as the rest of Koori.
Isolated, it was all fairly innocent.
Mistakes that could be written off as a byproduct of overconfidence or lack of practice, but combined, it left a foul taste in his mouth.
Step, duck, swing.
“You’re not trying.”
His words were accompanied with a harsh thrust, scraping against the flat side of the chainsaw, hastily raised like a makeshift shield.
Swing, block, stab.
“Now, why would I do that?”
His blank expression was almost more infuriating than the grin that lurked underneath.
Nimura spun to the side as Koori stabbed, grabbing on to Taruhi, and guiding the deadly edge to sail right past his chest.
“Can’t you see you see I’m on the edge of my talents.”
No you’re not, and I hope you choke to death on your lies.
“Arima.”
“Oh?”
Mock surprise was laced throughout every facet of his features.
“You feint and try to pass it off as a mistake in just the same way.”
“I believe
you’re
the mistaken one advisor, I have no reason—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what your reason is or isn’t, fight, dammit. ”
“Oh- how frightening, well, as you wish!”
The spinning teeth of the chainsaw whistled past his head, only to be followed faster than he could think by the solid metal handle colliding with his chest, staggering him back onto the ground.
The dull pain that followed felt like a reward.
“If you can hit me with that, you can cut me, stop going soft!”
“Lucky strike, this thing is so heavy…”
“Bullshit.”
Technique be damned if Kichimura wasn’t going to hit him anyways.
Koori lunged forward from the checkered floor, a flurry of metal and black fabric swinging for the flashing blades of the chainsaw.
He stabbed at it with all the energy he could muster,
Once, Twice, backing Kichimura into a corner.
For a moment he let his rage pretend that this was some kind of second-hand revenge. You saw her die, you let her die.
On the third strike, the whip-like end lashed and tangled around the horrid machine, pulling it out of the Bureau Chief’s hands. Koori spun his own quinque around, and crushed its kakuhou engine into a shattered mess on the floor. He could fix it. He could fix it and it didn’t matter if Koori pretended it was his face.
And Kichimura fucking applauded. A mockery that echoed through the large room.
“Bravo! It seems you have me beat, but then again I’m just some poor investigator brought up from the lower ranks, th–”
Nimura’s histrionics were cut to a jarring halt as he was backed against the wall with the sharp edge of the spear pressed up against his throat.
He raised his hands in a mock surrender, only slightly winded as Koori’s breath heaved from the exertion and anger. The fight couldn’t have lasted for more than a minute, but his muscles ached from the effort.
“Oh–- you poor thing, getting this worked up over a little game. Maybe we should do more fieldwork together!”
Koori wanted to scream, this wasn’t just a game,
you let me win, you let me and I know it. Your shitty lies don’t work on me
A thin red line dripped down from the tip of his quinque, and yet he didn’t yelp or flinch as Koori pressed closer. Nimura smiled, shaking, like he was about to burst out into laughter or tears. Maybe both.
“Do you even remember what it feels like to be afraid?”
It sounded less like a question and more like a hiss.
A silent room and a smile were his only response as Koori huffed and lowered the halberd.
…
“...I’m finishing the rest of this in our old office, if that’s alright.”
Nimura simply blinked and shifted his gaze away.
“Yes, that should be fine. See you tomorrow, advisor.”
Koori nodded curtly and turned on his heel. The director didn’t even bother to clean up his own blood as he stared absentmindedly across the room, no longer trapped by a body but idle as a corpse regardless.
Didn’t the idiot worry that someone would come in and ask what happened?
Oh, who was he kidding. Kichimura could tell the entire CCG that it was done by fairies and they’d leap to believe him.
Koori wondered if anyone genuinely believed this guy’s stupid silver tongue, or if they were all like himself, clinging on in the hope that this disaster of a person would carry them to a sense of purpose.
He wondered if Nimura really had forgotten what it is to feel, or if it was all simply hidden away where no one could see. He wondered if those empty expressions meant anything. (Not that it mattered.)
Osaki.
He was waiting for a train.
Akihabara.
The train was driven by death itself.
Ebisu.
But he wouldn’t dare turn away from the only line that might lead him to salvation.
Tabata.
The small moments of sanity in the devil kept him alive.
Harajuku
Small moments where doubt flashed across those lifeless eyes.
Kanda.
So he closed the door, as if he could shut the horrid feelings Kichimura induced inside, breathing unsteadily.
Shibuya.
and inhaled as much smoke as he could, from a cigarette he barely remembered lighting, or lifting to his own lips with a shaky hand, something like tears pricking the corners of his eyes and he couldn't tell if they came from anger or grief anymore.
Komagone.
Just hoping the tar would fill his lungs until it choked him to death.
Did you forget again?
Koori missed every one of them.
Start over, silly!