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Do they think I can’t hear them or something?
“This is a stupid argument! Just let me go talk to him!”
“Talk to?! You’re gonna interrogate the poor kid!”
It’d be stupid of them to forget. It’s what I’m trained for.
“Both of you have a tendency to be overbearing. Vice Captain, don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. And Jouno-”
“If this is another rant about me not following your ideal of justice, I don’t want to hear it.”
Maybe they want me to hear this? Maybe they want me to know I fucked up. That’s what they would do if they were here.
The door opened, startling Tachihara out of his thoughts.
Fuck.
He shut his eyes tightly, evening his breathing as best he could. If he were lucky, he could probably pass for being asleep. His parents usually fell for it, though they never did make an effort to see if he was faking it. Easier to pretend everything was fine and wipe their hands of it.
Still, as long as it wasn’t Jouno…
“If you want me to leave, you could just tell me.”
Shit.
The teenager rolled over, leveling the older man with his best miserable I’m-sick-so-I-can’t-go-to-school-today-mom look. “My stomach hurts. I don’t wanna talk.”
The captain had the audacity to laugh.
“We have some of the best doctors in this damn nation. One of our surgeons could easily take a look at ya if you think there’s an issue.”
“I’d rather suffer here.”
Fukuchi invited himself to sit down next to him, no doubt staining his duvet with whatever weird germs he’d picked up on his latest mission. He placed a large hand on Tachihara’s shoulder.
“Kiddo…”
“Don’t call me that. It feels like you’re looking down on me.”
“You are a kid.”
“I’m fourteen. I’m a valuable member of this team.”
The captain sighed, removing his hand. “You’re right. But we’re just as much a family as we are a team. And neither can function if you’re keeping secrets.”
Tachihara adjusted so he was sitting up properly. “I’m not trying to. I just…”
“You don’t share in the passion a couple of our members have for blood and entrails.”
He grimaced at the memory of rusty red staining the metal bars and concrete walls of the prison. The pleading look in that man’s eye as Tachihara approached him. The scream of agony as he-
“...I don’t.”
He saw the doctors running towards the cell as he stumbled out.
“Is Teruko mad at me?”
It was wrong, almost, for that to be his first concern. As if he hadn’t just taken a life.
“She got over it pretty fast. Apparently you puking up your guts made up for cutting her fun evening short.”
He didn’t have a response to that.
“I’ve never killed someone before.”
“I know.”
Tachihara fiddled with his dog tags.
“It didn’t feel as bad as I thought it would.”
And it was true. Standing there, in that dank room, he hadn’t even thought about it.
“I was trying to help him.”
“I know.”
Of course he did.
“I kept thinking of
him.
Being beaten down over and over again, just to come back as if it never happened…I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“Tachihara.”
The heavy hand was back, a pressure that he felt in his soul more than anywhere else.
“You…we…the Hunting Dogs were created for a reason. To do what no one else is able to. We have a responsibility. To Yokohama and to the World. We must punish those who dare to threaten the peace. That is why we wield our blades.”
The captain looked as determined as ever, but there was a certain tiredness behind his eyes. Tachihara was good at reading people. He had to be, as the resident infiltration agent of the Hunting Dogs.
“There’s a difference between being trained to do something and actually…y’know.”
“There is.”
“How do you do it? You’ve been part of the military since like…before I was born. I think. I’m not great at math.”
That got a chuckle out of Fukuchi.
“I get drunk out of my mind after.”
Tachihara glared at him. “Tecchou won’t let me drink.”
“Good. You’re not old enough.”
“But I’m old enough to torture and kill people.”
There was a moment of silence after that. Fukuchi sighed, shaking his head almost somberly. As if he hadn’t been the one to find Tachihara that day. As if he hadn’t been the one to recruit him. As if he hadn’t trained him how to fight and how to…
“I don’t understand.”
“Hm?”
“Why doesn’t it hurt more? Why don’t I feel worse?”
“Because you’re a Hunting Dog. The fangs of the government devouring crime. It’s only natural. This is the environment you’re being raised in. The inhuman nature of our work…honestly, it’s better this way.”
Tachihara turned to him with a confused tilt of the head. “What d’you mean?”
“The things we have to do. For peace. For this world. They’re enough to break any man, if you let them. If you spend too much time thinking about it, you risk shaking your resolve. You risk not going through with what needs to be done.”
“I didn’t do what ‘needed to be done’ though. He could’ve had useful information.”
Fukuchi hummed. “That’s true.”
The gray-haired man sighed, finally pulling away.
“Tachihara.”
“Yeah?”
“You want me to be honest? Your problem is that you get in your own way. You let your emotions get the best of you and you make rash decisions. Or you hesitate. Trust me, it’s easier if you don’t think, you just follow orders and do what needs to be done.”
“Easy for you to say. You can just drink to forget everything you’ve done.”
“And once you’re twenty, I’ll take you to get properly wasted.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. Somewhere between guilt and regret. “But for now, just try not to think, yeah? Just follow your orders and do what you’re told. Think of yourself as a weapon to be wielded. A sword meant to defeat the enemies of mankind.”
“I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like feeling responsible. Like I’m not any better than her. ”
“Then don’t.”
“...is this me getting fired?”
It was a joke. Mostly. Part of Tachihara was always a bit afraid of letting them down. Of ending back up on the streets, this time with a ticking clock buried deep into his chest. He could almost see himself stumbling along some back alley, coughing up blood as his body tried to rip itself apart. The metal around him would groan and creak as his ability tried to pull it towards him. It would reach out for something, anything, to cling to, as its host got too weak to contain it.
Maybe he’d crawl back home and beg his parents to let him in. Tell them he was wrong, and he was sorry. He would listen this time. He would-
“Ow!”
The teenager rubbed his head.
“Did you just hit me? The hell was that for?!”
“You were spiraling.”
“So you
hit
me?!”
“You’re a Hunting Dog. You’ve felt worse.”
He shivered a bit as he remembered Jouno’s particularly intense brand of training. While the others made a bit of an attempt to shelter him, his mentor did no such thing. According to Jouno, the world was less kind than he was. And Tachihara had seen more than enough of his cruelty towards others.
Never him though. Not directly.
While Jouno frequently put him in intense situations, he didn’t seem to get any joy out of it. Unlike his outwardly persona, Jouno was usually pretty caring when it came to Tachihara.
When the higher ups had decided Tachihara needed to undergo training in order to survive being interrogated and tortured, Jouno hadn’t disagreed.
Despite being an expert, and someone known for taking pleasure in hurting others, Jouno was never there for it. He claimed he found Tachihara’s screams annoying.
Tachihara was secretly grateful that his mentor didn’t have to see him like that.
“Yeah, but it was still rude.”
“Kid-
Tachihara,
I’m serious. You can’t deal with being responsible? Don’t. Let me.”
“...huh?”
“Everything you do, it’s by my orders, yes?”
“Um, yes…?”
“So let me take the blame. Follow my orders. Don’t think. Don’t worry about pain or guilt or any of that. Let my orders guide you, so that you can live as yourself.”
“...”
Fukuchi sighed, clapping his shoulder one last time before standing up and stretching. Loudly.
“Just consider it.”
With that, he was gone.
If Tachihara weren’t currently training to be Japan’s best spy, he might’ve missed the three pairs of footsteps that scattered as the door was opened.
Still.
It was nice to know the others worried about him, even if he’d never admit it.
—
Tachihara could feel something dripping down his face.
Whether it was rain or tears, he didn’t know.
Maybe it was more blood, though judging by the lack of reactions around him, that was unlikely.
He shivered, wrapping his coat a bit tighter around himself. The scent of cigarettes wasn’t usually one he enjoyed, but the residual smoky smell was comforting to him in a way he didn’t expect.
Even Jouno hadn’t complained about the assault on his sensitive nose.
He thought there would be more backlash from the mafia too, but none of them wanted to fight him on this.
Teruko had cackled and told him that they knew better than to mess with the Hunting Dogs.
Tachihara was pretty sure everyone could see through that lie.
“It’s weird, isn’t it? That we’re having a funeral for the man who almost ended the world?”
He hadn’t bothered to face the detective as they spoke. There wouldn’t be any point. It’s not like he would see anything.
“He did also save it.”
“Yeah, from himself.”
“...yeah.”
“So then why do you look so gloomy?”
He’d only met Ranpo a couple of times, most of which were during the aftermath of Fyodor’s attack. According to the agency president, he was usually like this.
“He was still my boss.”
“Not a very good one.”
Tachihara couldn’t argue with that. He had the scar across his face to prove it.
“Are you just here to mock us then?”
“Hm? And rub in that you all ran around like headless dogs chasing your own tails while the true mastermind was right in front of you the whole time?”
“Yes, about that.” He clenched his fists. Nobody would blame him for walking away.
“No, I’m not. I’m here to pay my respects, just like everyone else.”
“...really?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I hate the man. But it’d be selfish not to at least acknowledge what he was trying to do. Not that the ends justify the means or anything. But this whole situation was complicated. Even the World’s Greatest Detective almost struggled a bit. Almost.”
“Almost.”
“All I’m saying is, you don’t owe him anything. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong to feel this way.”
He could feel the detective walking away, leaving him standing alone once again.
“Nice coat, by the way. I bet its old owner would be proud to see you wearing it.”
—
Who am I? How do I want to live?
The questions had been on loop in his mind for the last few weeks.
The remaining hunting dogs had been pardoned by the government. While the team was technically retired, President Fukuzawa had managed to use his reputation to essentially bully the higher ups into keeping them alive.
Tachihara had gone back to the mafia, but without the people he considered his home, it was difficult to stick around. Especially when he was a traitor who had spied on them for the past four years. Extra especially when everything reminded him of them.
It had barely been a week when Chuuya had pulled him aside.
Who am I?
He’d been so confident once. That the mafia was where he belonged. He told himself that he’d get his shit back together. He’d work harder, he’d take over the Black Lizard, just like Hirtosu would’ve wanted. But…
How do I want to live?
Ultimately, it was the doctor who convinced him.
Despite everything he’d done to her, she’d forgiven him. She checked on him while he was recovering, and she’d been the one to extend the invitation.
With a deep breath, he pushed open the office door and walked inside.