Chapter Text
Yomi Hellsmile has had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month.
First, his brilliant plan to prevent the World Detective Organization from investigating Kanai Ward had failed. Sure, most of the detectives that had attempted to enter the city died, and those that did survive the multiple massacres seemed to be a few meat buns short of a baker’s dozen. But somehow, they were still constantly getting in his way and one-upping him at every opportunity.
Then, Makoto Kagutsuchi had randomly started showing up again after spending months locked away in his apartment.
Yomi hated everything about Makoto, from his weird, creepy mask and ugly purple suit to his annoying voice that always reeked of false cheerfulness.
And he was always doing things for Yomi too - holding doors open for him, having his usual coffee order waiting on his desk for him every morning (a venti salted caramel mocha frappucino with four pumps of caramel sauce, four pumps of caramel syrup, three pumps of toffee nut syrup, double blended with extra whipped cream), and once, he even had the nerve to ask what Yomi and Martina had planned for their anniversary!
Yomi felt as though Makoto thought he was an incompetent buffoon. Sure, some of the doors at Amaterasu Headquarters were heavy or looked like they were “pull” doors rather than “push” doors, and he once accidentally stumbled over his coffee order at Ama-Espresso and asked for “noffee tut syrup”, and he actually had totally forgotten about his anniversary, but was able to secure a reservation at the nicest restaurant in the city through a combination of clever negotiation skills and also running over the couple who had taken the reservation time he wanted with his car.
But Yomi Hellsmile was NOT incompetent.
He sighed. He missed Martina. He didn’t regret getting her compressed into a meat cube, but he did regret not paying for express shipping.
His lack of Meat-tina, however, reminded him of yet another source of annoyance in his life.
His underlings.
Every single one of them had disappointed him - Swank, Seth, Guillaume, Dominic, Zilch, even his precious Right Hand, Martina.
He can’t crush them all into meat cubes, he reasoned. Sure, they ultimately failed him, but they were still all leagues above the basic Peacekeeper grunts. Hell, even that sentient mountain that followed Guillaume around had more common sense than those gas-mask-wearing dolts.
But they still had to be punished.
Yomi still needed to wipe the Nocturnal Detective Agency off the map as well. Doing so literally with a torpedo didn’t work, so maybe he needed to work figuratively.
And while his attempt at using Yakou’s love for his wife came close to driving him to murder, that plan fell short too.
Yomi stomped over to the window to watch a group walking away from his vantage point. The moment the so-called Nocturnal Detective Agency reached the gate of Amaterasu Corporation’s headquarters, they all began to embrace one another. Yakou ruffled the small purple one’s hair. The ditzy girl with the blue hair was skipping in circles around the detective with the bright pink glasses, while the short, yellow-clad detective hopped alongside her. Even the anemic vampire-looking one seemed to have a little extra pep in his step.
Disgusting.
He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts by a knock on the doorframe.
“Director Yomi?”
“What is it?! What do you want?!”
One of the many nameless, faceless Peacekeepers stood in the doorway to his office, trembling.
“Well, sir, I just wanted to stop by and put in a time-off request. You see, sir, my son is graduating kindergarten on Friday, and I was really hoping I could-”
“Yeah, sure, fine, whatever,” the redhead snapped.
“Really, sir? You mean it?” the Peacekeeper gasped. He rushed into the room, vigorously shaking Yomi’s hand. “Oh, thank you, thank you so much! This means the world to me! Family is the most important thing, and I-”
A dull roar started to build in Yomi’s ears.
Family.
Disgusting.
Yomi hated his family. His push-over mother. His bossy old sister. He hated his father most of all, though.
His father represented the worst of his humanity in his eyes; lying, stealing, cheating, violence, hypocrisy.
In his younger years, Yomi often found himself working multiple retail jobs just to keep his family’s power on. The menial tasks, the stupid complaints about things he had zero control over, the low wages, all of the bullshit that accompanied his time in customer service almost pushed him into madness
And his family wasn’t even grateful.
Suddenly, the roaring stopped.
Cogs were turning instead.
He had just figured out how to hit Yakou Furio where it hurt the most, while punishing his captains. It was like killing two birds with one stone.
Or, in this case, ten birds with one stone.
“Get out,” Yomi snarled.
“Sir?”
“LEAVE. Enjoy your son’s cremation.”
“Graduation, sir. And once again, thank-”
“OUT!”
The Peacekeeper scampered towards the exit, almost getting his fingers smashed as the heavy metal door slammed shut behind him.
Yomi stomped back to his desk and kicked his computer’s power button.
He opened a program titled “Ama-Doc” and selected a font titled “Comic Sans”.
And he began to type.