Work Text:
“Koko.” Mikey says, his voice echoing almost emptily across the office.
“Yes sir?” Koko automatically replies.
They’re in a large studio overlooking the sky-line of Tokyo—one of Kantou Manji’s high-rises. A grandiose window wraps around the vast space, reaching floor to ceiling and clear as crystal. The boss stands before it, staring off into the distance while Koko is a ways away, typing on his laptop behind a large oak desk.
“Do you ever miss Inui?” He asks, in an almost detached manner.
And, Koko’s fingers continue typing away on his laptop, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry, but, can you repeat the question, sir? I’m not quite sure I understand.”
“I said.” The boss shifts ever so slightly, but, to be honest Koko isn’t paying much attention. Not really. “Do you ever miss Inui?”
His reflection is ethereal, intangible even. Not one belonging to a real person.
A few more seconds of clicking keys as the boss’ words fully settle in.
Ah. So that’s what he was talking about.
“Yes, sir.” Koko continues smoothly, almost dismissive of the comment. The laptop crisply click click clicks away under his fingertips. “And I continue to miss her more and more everyday.”
“I wasn’t referring to Akane.” Mikey interjects, straight to the point like a knife’s edge to the neck. Koko suddenly freezes in place, his fingers going cold.
The boss couldn’t be possibly—
No. He couldn’t mean that.
Koko clears his throat, recollecting his composure before continuing to type on his keyboard like he can somehow hide behind the panel of his laptop.
He can’t, but he tries anyway.
“You know, sir. Rokuhara Tandai has been growing significantly in numbers.” Koko says, trying to veer the conversation away. “According to our intel, they’ve even recruited Kakucho and the Haitani brothers, so they could really pose a threat to us soon—”
“Just answer the question, Koko.” Mikey interrupts darkly, his voice authoritarian, dangerous—an obvious underlying threat if he doesn’t comply.
Goosebumps rise on Koko’s arms, as if he’s just now coming to terms with just how freezing the room is. A few seconds pass before he gingerly closes his laptop with a gentle tap.
It’s sleek, black, and Koko soundlessly slides it across the table, before lacing his fingers together.
Despite the wording of the statement and such, it’s not a question, and both of them know it.
Even through the reflection bouncing against the glass, the boss’ black gaze is as cold and intense as a frozen blizzard, threatening to swallow him whole. It’s plainly, and blatantly clear that he no longer wants to sit through any more of Koko’s excuses.
Koko can’t run; he isn’t allowed to, so he resorts to the only thing he can do instead.
He averts his gaze.
“…Yes. I miss him.” He replies after a long while, almost hesitantly, like he was treading his way around a mine field. “More than I could have ever imagined.”
Silence, except from the low rumbling of the air conditioner far up above. The boss hasn’t moved a centimeter; the pressure of the room isn’t letting up either.
A couple seconds pass before Koko hastily glances back at Mikey's reflection in the glass. There’s a prompt in the boss’ unsatisfied gaze, obviously prodding at him to continue—a silent interrogation almost. Something like freezing anxiety sinks its claws into Koko’s chest, settling uncomfortably around his lungs as it sits on his sternum like a weight.
He inhales, and exhales ever so slightly. “And logically, it doesn’t make any sense.” Koko continues, looking away. “We chose different paths. My investments have finally paid off, and if Inupi doesn’t want a piece of the pie, then that’s too damn bad.”
His hands open and close ever so slightly around nothing but air. Koko just sort of… stares at his palms, like he was desperately grasping for something painfully untouchable.
“I achieved everything that I could have ever wanted—money, power. Everything.” He goes on exasperatedly. “So logically, everything should be perfect, but it’s not.”
The boss just stares back at him through the reflection, listening to him silently, intently.
“It’s just like… this empty place in my heart was left inside of me when he left. Only one which he can fill.”
An almost bitter look comes across Koko’s face.
“He should be by my side, but he isn’t. Some days it’s like going on with a phantom limb.” He laughs tartly. “For me, anyway. I know for a fact that he’s out there living a better, happier life without me in it.” His fists clench, fingernails biting ever so slightly into his palms as his knuckles whiten. “Because I’m not in it.”
Fabric rustles as the boss turns around ever so slightly, directly meeting his gaze head on. The pressure increases under his close scrutiny.
“Did you ever love Inui, Koko?”
The question takes him by surprise like a damn deer in headlights. “I…”
Koko recoils as the boss’ stare pierces straight through him. His gaze is as sharp as glass, sending chills down Koko’s spine and into his fingertips.
“Answer me.” He orders. There’s no room left to interpret his statement.
The shudder of the air conditioner drones emptily throughout the space, a cold sound, before Koko lets out a sigh.
“Yes, I loved him.” He finally concedes, like he’s admitting defeat. “I loved Inupi. And I still do.”
“Even if you left him behind?” The boss adds; there’s no judgment in his voice, at least, none that Koko can discern.
“Yes.” He responds, and though he couldn’t see it, the boss’ eyes soften ever so slightly, if only for the barest second.
Mikey turns back towards the window—a barrier between him and the rest of the world—and stares silently at the lights of cars whizzing down below, the people on the sidewalk the size of mites.
“I understand.” He says softly.
There’s a grim note to his voice. It sounds heavy, almost. Like he’s carrying an unspeakably large burden. And Koko knows for a fact that he is—too entirely aware of the silent cross that he carries.
And, there is nothing he could do except impassively wait for Mikey to continue, or not continue. For all he knows, the boss is one and done with this conversation.
It’s not Koko’s place to dictate such things after all.
And for a while, the only response he received is from the faint wails of sirens down below, muffled through the thick pane of glass. Koko vaguely thinks about how it all sounds like a street chase.
“I…” Mikey trails off as he gazes into the distance. “Had this friend. He was my best friend, really.”
“A… friend? Sir?” Koko repeats slowly, methodically. He has an inkling as to who exactly the boss was referring to. Ryuuguuji Ken. However, they never discussed anything in detail up until this point. In fact, Koko never thought they would actually discuss anything like this in detail ever, so.
“I was ten—fifth grade—when I met him for the first time.” Mikey elaborates. “He was instructed by a bunch of older kids to bring me to them.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t know why he was hanging around a bunch of people that weren’t his equals.” Mikey continues. “So do you want to know what I did?”
“What did you do, sir.” Koko echoes.
“I beat them all up.” He says with this fond, almost wistful childishness. “After that, we were both inseparable, and together, it felt like we could accomplish anything. He was my equal; my heart, in a way.”
Then, a long pause, and the rumbling of the air conditioner. Koko could almost see him taking up the mantle of the Invincible once more as his shoulders sank with that oh-so familiar weight that Koko was well acquainted with, like that moment of nostalgic joy, of weakness, hadn’t even existed in the first place.
When he speaks again, his voice is cold, detached. A familiar sound.
“And before I even knew it…” Mikey’s sentence tapers off almost indecipherably; if it isn’t Koko’s imagination, it sounds like he’s reminiscing about something painful, something that hurts to remember. “I had completely, and utterly fallen for him.”
The boss reaches out to feel the glass, but, doesn't quite touch it. His hand then withdraws away from it ever so slightly, almost as if he were afraid to leave his mark on the window, to breach the barrier between him and the outside world.
“But, he was in love with my sister.” Mikey tells him as his hand silently falls back to his side. “She’s dead now.”
“Oh.” Koko responds almost stupidly, not quite knowing what to say. “I’m… sorry for your loss, sir.”
And, as Mikey just goes on staring out the window and down into the city streets below, Koko’s not entirely sure if he’s accepted his condolences or not. A good moment passes before he continues with “However, all of that just seems so far away now.”
A slight pause fills the space as Koko watches him through the glass.
“I pushed them all away for their own safety, including him.” He puts succinctly. “The path that I’m on, the one I am pursuing… is not one that I wish for them to follow.”
Mikey turns around ever so slightly, if only to meet Koko’s eyes. Even though the intensity of his gaze hasn’t quite gone down, there’s something else lingering in it now; something more sorrowful.
“But, as you’ve said before, when he left it just felt like an integral piece of me went missing—a phantom limb, a part of my soul…” There’s a rueful tone to his voice, as if longing for a memory he could see, but never really touch. “A place in my heart that only he can fill.”
His eyes flicker away.
“Without him, I feel lost.” He says simply, slowly. “So, I understand.”
And Koko knows, that for once, he’s not seeing the boss, or the Invincible, but just—
Mikey.
A peek behind the facade.
“Well,” He leans back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. “We’re both kind of fucked then, aren’t we?”
And, Mikey just gazes back into the non-descript distance, quietly listening to the shuddering of the air conditioner far up above.
“Yeah.” He says solemnly. “I guess we are.”