Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tetsu wasn’t lying about needing to borrow money - he was impressively broke and surprisingly, or not surprisingly, bad at gambling. Sumio was jealous that Tetsu could afford a nice house, a wife, a daughter, and then gamble away the rest. All the while, he was barely scraping by, living three people to one shitty studio apartment, hoping that his next paycheck would be enough to finally cover the cost of cables that Hiseki needed - Sumio didn’t want to push back their timeline. And because of that, Sumio always felt uncomfortable carrying cash on him - he didn’t like the risk. He felt even more distrustful of credit cards and the giant corporations behind them, so in the end, he never carried more cash than he knew he needed at any given time.

But that is exactly how Sumio ended up on guard duty at a ¥7000 per night love hotel. It was the only place that they - or specifically Sumio - could afford on such short notice. He hadn’t expected needing an overnight stay for what was supposed to be a simple one-off murder case, otherwise he would have just asked Fuyuki to help him withdraw the money from the account in advance.

Sumio sighed and buried his face deeper into his hands, causing him to sink further into the worn-down cushion seat of the already uncomfortable and overly soft armchair that he had taken post in. The case was getting to him; a driver of some industrial truck was shot in some commuter town out in the furthest outskirts of District B in the middle of the day, and although there were plenty of witnesses all around, no one saw who did it. But that wasn’t the issue. Once they started looking deeper into the town, they started hearing rumors from the residents about the strange deaths of at least eleven elementary school students in the past three months. All in bizarre circumstances.

Or rather, the circumstances were normal - they were all just accidents, but something about the scene just felt wrong. Rumor said that each of the dead children had a smile on their face.

Since the town was so small, there wasn’t a dedicated hospital and most of the parents of the children were too distraught to think that there may have been malicious intent involved, so it wasn’t until the tenth child had died that an autopsy was finally requested, which showed undeniable traces of carbon monoxide poisoning.

Tetsu had actually called it as soon as he heard the rumor from the gossipy housewives hanging outside the apartment building, long before he even looked at the autopsy results.

The case really struck a chord for Sumio. It was transparent why the criminal did what he did. It wouldn’t take long to narrow down possible suspects and determine the identity. But at the same time, wasn’t the criminal ridding the world of an injustice by stopping the truck driver turned serial killer? Didn’t the children and their families deserve some sort of resolution - or revenge even? He wondered if the witnesses all knew who had done it and was protecting the identity of the criminal. He couldn’t blame them. He would do the same. The more he thought about it, the more difficult it was for him to remain neutral. He would definitely want to bring the serial killer to justice too.

It would be easy...

The television flickered in a low murmur and Sumio looked over at the illuminated red numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand, it was barely 2 AM. Tetsu had gone to sleep at least four hours ago, and Sumio had already run out of things to do cooped up in that tiny room trying to keep his mind preoccupied and away from thinking more about the current case. He had read the newspaper front to back, flipped through all the television channels, finished off his current pack of cigarettes and even bummed one of Tetsu’s as well (which he hated the taste of but it felt nostalgic), and he even got bored enough to inventory all the provided amenities in the room. Sumio was not unused to this sort of establishment, but it was definitely the first time he was here for his day job.

The distractions didn’t make it any easier. He was beginning to reach the point of existential crisis tinged with ennui where he was starting to hope that maybe there was still enough residual fumes around town to take him out too if he breathed it in just a little more. Hopefully knock him unconscious until he couldn’t think anymore. Maybe he would just melt away and become someone else. Or maybe his life would be better if the fumes would just kill him off entirely and he wouldn’t have to worry about his whole existence being no longer human anymore. Just a bullet to the brain to put him out of his misery - wait no, it was carbon monoxide poisoning, not a bullet. The bullet was the hero, right? Even Sumio’s usual reasoning and intellect and even coherence was starting to muddle together and fail him at this time of night.

Hero? Serpent?

No, they were humans all along.

Who was who?

And who was he?

Was he the bullet? No, that can’t be right. He’s been stained black. He must be the poison water. No, that’s still not right. It was poison gas. That’s right. He was poison gas. He was the criminal. No, he was the one who caused it all. So he was the serial killer? No, wrong again, he will be the serial killer, but he will also become the criminal.

But wasn’t he the victims too? The children that suffered at the hands of the adults? Sumio wondered what the children felt like in those last moments. Why were they smiling? Sumio tried to remember how he felt. But he could only remember white noise and white hot rage. Things still hadn't changed much.

But this wasn’t exactly the same.

Fuyuki once told him that the oil fries felt like drowning while your insides are on fire. That couldn't be the same either, as no one would smile at drowning. He vividly remembered the way the black threaded XXXXX's stretched wide along Fuyuki's mouth, and Fuyuki definitely was not smiling.

No, this must have felt like something else entirely:

He had been dead for nineteen years already. He was in the ground. He was at the base of the mountain, being buried. He was six years old. He was alive. He was being buried alive. And on top of his grave, stood him. He was burying him. He was burying himself. He was the only one left standing.

After all that is what a victim criminal hero does. But the victim criminal hero is a victim hero criminal too. What would a victim criminal hero do in this situation? What would he do if he were the victim hero criminal?

Sumio had thought about it all before. Countless times even.

After all, he was all three both.

It would be so easy.

PARADE IS COMING SOON... 

UP NEXT: LIVE BROADCAST AT THE FIREWORKS FESTIVAL

It's a bomb!

It's an explosion!

It's Cantona!

"Tetsu's car? The brakes are cut?"

Wait when did that happen?

It would be so easy.

It's a stand-off.  Tetsu draws his gun. He is standing closest to the terrorist, Shonen Bat, so Sumio stood up, as he watched Tetsu's back.

Sumio considers it. Just shoot Tetsu first. Tetsu falls to the ground. Tetsu's body laid completely still except for his shaky breaths and Sumio slowly took step after step to Tetsu's prone body. Next up to bat is Shonen Bat!

One!

Two!

Three strikes!

You’re out!

The game ends in a tie!

"Self-defense. Tetsu turned at the wrong time and was taken out by Shonen Bat. It’s lucky I was able to take him down though."

And just follow up with a grim expression, "I should have been better. I could have protected Tetsu. It’s my fault." Sumio smiled.

It would be so easy for him to get away with it.

He had thought about this a lot.

It would genuinely be so easy to get away with it if he wanted to do it indirectly. Considering Tetsu's position, there must be many who want him dead. He can easily pay someone off to do it. Sumio reached out his hand and slides the crisp bills towards some otaku loser at a bar.

And why would they think it was Sumio?

But Sumio wouldn’t want that - that would be boring. Sumio would want it nice and personal.

A knife perhaps.

Tetsu’s blood all over his hands is a nice bonus. Sumio grazed his fingers along the sickeningly warm sticky blood that continues to drip down Tetsu's still face.

He would want to be there, he would want to watch it, he would want to feel it with his own hands. It isn’t that he necessarily wants Tetsu to die, so much as he wants to steal Tetsu’s life away.

However, the obvious method would be choking, strangulation, suffocation, asphyxiation.

It would be so easy.

Sumio didn’t know when he had made his way over to the bed, but there he was, bent over Tetsu’s sleeping form as he watched each breath, every movement, his fingers cupped around the edge of Tetsu's face.

Sumio continued to purposefully trace his finger from the side of Tetsu’s temple, right along the edge of his hair line, along his cheekbone, past the hollows of his cheek, down his jaw, taking in every single small detail and scar until finally he splayed his pale fingers, and wrapped his hand around Tetsu’s neck. He squeezed his fingers just enough to feel Tetsu’s neck fill his whole hand.

It would be so, so easy.

He had to do a physical exam as part of the Police Academy testing but never again since then - that was probably the same case for Tetsu. And combined with the god knows how many packs of cigarettes that Tetsu smokes a day, Sumio knew that if it came down to it, he would definitely be the winner in a physical fight between the two of them.

He watched Tetsu’s sleeping face, with each deep breath completely unaware. His hand tightened ever so slightly, and he felt a bit disgustingly enamored by the warmth of another human being. He could stop it all now, and if he did, he wouldn’t have to worry about Tetsu during the parade.

But that wasn’t what filled his mind in this moment. It was the feeling of control - the control he had over Tetsu, and not just the usual bickering or teasing or flattery or glances or even the thinly veiled flirting that he knew Tetsu loved but would never admit to, this time it was Tetsu’s whole life entirely in his hand. Everything of Tetsu’s could be his in just a moment. He felt the steady thud of Tetsu’s pulse beneath his fingers as he squeezed harder. A small smirk played over his lips at the thought.

Sumio suddenly let go.

Darkness had flowed into him twenty years ago and never left. And no matter how much he fought back or struggled or tried to push away the darkness, it still managed to spill out between the cracks and seams. And it certainly didn’t help that in these past four years, he had only leaned deeper into the darkness to play the part of the perfect Sumio Kodai. Absolutely perfect. Sometimes he wondered what an imperfect Sumio Kodai would look like, but he knew he would never have a chance to know.

Before he could pull his hand all the way back, Sumio was surprised by the sensation of his own wrist being grabbed and squeezed almost to the point of pain.

"What the fuck are you doing." It was more of a statement than a question. One of the very few times Sumio was actually caught off guard, and he hadn’t had enough time to think up a lie yet. He just simply stared back at Tetsu, who had managed to roll over and prop himself up on one elbow. Tetsu glared hard and squeezed his fist tighter, "Well? What is it? What were you trying to do?" His voice came out in a low snarl.

Sumio had no idea how much Tetsu may or may not have been awake for and stumbled over his words as he gave a futile attempt to conjure up a reason, any reason. His wrist was getting increasingly uncomfortable, starting to tinge purple around Tetsu’s fingers and he still could not think of anything. Tetsu yanked hard, causing Sumio’s shins to hit the edge of the mattress, and to tumble forward until he fell all twisted up on top of Tetsu, right wrist still held firmly in place.

Sumio took the moment as he was tangled up on top of all the limbs and blankets to recompose himself and reset his expression to something that would be better suited for the situation: a little confusion, a bit concern, a hint of apology, and even the smallest bit outrage. A perfect mask. Sumio was confident that combined with the dim lighting and whatever Tetsu’s line of thinking was, it should read as the reaction Tetsu wanted. Sumio found a small flat area of the bed not covered by body parts with his free hand and pushed himself up to be face to face with Tetsu, staring directly into Tetsu’s eyes with his perfectly crafted ambiguous expression and his big brown eyes.

"Tetsu, calm down. Let go of me. You’ve got the wrong idea." Sumio finally regained his composure and put on his steadiest, most practiced voice.

"Wrong idea? Then tell me what is the right idea? Because I don't think there is a right idea about you trying to kill me in my sleep."

"No, I wasn’t trying…" The same practiced, almost cloyingly sweet voice and pulled at his hand once more but Tetsu held strong.

"Sumio, just stop." Tetsu was tired and wasn't in the mood to listen to Sumio's lies and excuses at ass o'clock in the morning. And especially not after being woken up by being choked out by his partner. Although in all fairness, Tetsu had been a detective for a long time and had been alive for even longer so he had seen firsthand what being a detective, especially in the 24 Ward, could do to a person - himself included. So in all actuality, he felt that attempted second-degree murder of a coworker was rather negligible on that long list - in fact it usually came with the territory, typically located somewhere between burn-out and death by overwork.

So while he didn’t particularly enjoy the possibility of having his life snuffed out in a dump like this, he could still understand that kind of gnawing temptation. It manifests differently for everyone. There were just certain things that you had to do to keep yourself sane. Over the years he had seen it differ from person to person, from detective to detective. You had to keep telling yourself that you are the good guy, that you are protecting people. Otherwise it was your head next - whether at the hands of a criminal, the higher-ups, the politicians, or even yourself. Thinking on it, maybe he had been a detective for too long, seen too much.

The late-night news rerun on the television droned on and illuminated video recordings danced over the two as the moment held still and both parties tried to regain control of the situation. Sumio frantically scrambled to make heads or tails of his own tenuous grasp on reality, but continued to drift away in the hazy white noise and static. His right wrist hurt from being squeezed, his left wrist hurt from holding up the weight of the rest of his body, his eyes went in and out of focus as he tried desperately to maintain eye contact with Tetsu, while his mind, thoughts and emotions cycled in an impossibly fast loop.

Tetsu watched Sumio as he faded in and out of consciousness - or sanity? The two had worked alongside each other for long enough and Tetsu wasn't stupid even though he had learned to play the part well. He knew more about his partner than he led on, and he recognized running when he saw it. Even if he wasn't sure whether Sumio was running away or running towards. But that was one of the many parts of Sumio that intrigued him. He knew that Sumio would go far - further than he had managed to do so in his own life thus far. Maybe this would be his repayment?

And with the specific brand of overconfidence that one only ever feels at 2 in the morning, Tetsu loosened his grip, but only somewhat, causing Sumio to suddenly regain awareness just as he landed into the latest cycle of conflicting emotions - an unstable fine line drawn between ruthlessness and tenderness. Sumio shifted himself into a more comfortable position, pulling in both legs underneath his body so that he could sit back just enough that he no longer had to hold himself up anymore. He shook out his strained left wrist methodically and pulled at his captured hand once more.

"Tetsu. Let go." There were no more niceties or nuance in his voice. It was a demand this time. He couldn't even keep up his own game any longer, not in the mental state that he was in now.

"Not until you tell me what you're trying to do."

The tiniest hesitation, but he couldn't be bothered to try and hide it anymore. Sumio leaned in towards Tetsu, closer than he needed to, with a sinister look, narrowed eyes like daggers, a grin that dripped with black oil, and a breathy whisper.

"Tetsu, I want to kill you." The words floated low but sharp alongside a heavy exhale. Being at such close distance now, Sumio had to hold back his sudden desire to know what Tetsu tasted like.

Tetsu grinned back up in response, the intensity matched that of Sumio's own expression. He had hoped that Sumio would be direct, but he did not expect to be at the figurative, and possibly literal, point blank. It was refreshing: no lies, no games, and no running - that was the part of Sumio that Tetsu trusted the most. He would never admit to it, but if it was for Sumio, Tetsu would give up everything. After all, he figured he had probably lived long enough, seen enough already.

"If you going to try to kill me at least do it properly, you stupid fuck." Tetsu maneuvered Sumio's right hand firmly against his neck once more, and without breaking eye contact, released his hold. In one fluid movement and zero hesitation, Sumio had kicked his right leg out to the other side of Tetsu, knocked Tetsu backwards onto the bed, and had both hands wrapped tightly around Tetsu's neck. He could feel Tetsu's shuddering heartbeat again under that warm, so warm, skin and he squeezed tighter. The beating felt stronger under his hands now.

Tetsu didn't say anything, smug grin still on his face, mouth slightly open as he inhaled as much as he could with each strained breath, eyes centered on Sumio. He felt a bit dreamy and his focus blurred; any self-doubts or regrets melted away with reasoning and logic and all that was left was only...

Sumio reared up onto his knees as he applied more of his weight and force into his hands. He could even feel Tetsu's shallow, shivery breaths now. It would truly be as easy as he always thought - easier even maybe. There would be no one to stop him. Finally, this would be his. Everything would be his.

Tighter.

Heart beats mixed with hollow breaths, the physical manifestation of Tetsu's existence. And now, Tetsu's breaths came less and less frequent as he continued to squeeze harder and tighter. He felt Tetsu involuntarily swallow beneath his hands, like a lump that traveled down the length of both of his palms. Sumio suddenly became very acutely conscious of everything around him: of his legs pressed firmly on either side of Tetsu's body, of the feeling of his fingers straining against Tetsu’s neck, of the way Tetsu's chest shook underneath him with each empty inhale, of the way that loose strands of Tetsu’s usually perfectly coiffed hair had fallen into his face, of the way that Tetsu refused to look away from Sumio through his half lidded eyes, and of the way Tetsu smiled back up as him.

Sumio’s smile melted away and for the first time in a long, long while he felt very connected to everything around him, like a series of cables. And there he was in the middle of those cables, connected to another human being.

Connected to Tetsu.

And then an emotion filled him in between the seams and the cracks, one that he had no words to describe, as if his chest had been sliced open on the autopsy table and all the organs removed one by one. He wondered if they would find undeniable traces of carbon monoxide poisoning in his organs as well, because that is what he felt like at that moment. Like he couldn't breathe, like he had been choked, strangled, suffocated, asphyxiated. And as he watched Tetsu's life drain away with each small gasp for air, lips still curled up, smiling, he couldn't help but be overcome with a sort of admiration or longing for just how beautiful Tetsu looked at that moment. And for that single moment, everything belonged to him.

"……umi.o…" Tetsu barely managed to murmur through the white haze. The fuzzy edges of his vision grew into narrow flickering bands and Tetsu felt sleepy. He couldn't remember where he was, who he was, or even when he was. All that was left was that which was in front of him. But his vision had faded enough that he also couldn't see that anymore and couldn't be certain what that even was anymore. And then everything fills with static.

Against the darkness, the television glows faintly and Tetsu sees a young man's silhouette against the static, standing over an older man. The young man leaned his face down close enough to hear the words of the older man, but did not stop there. As Tetsu watched, the moment froze in place, with the young man's face still low, both men's identities obscured in darkness.

Something whispered.

Something left unheard.

約束を忘れるな

Television static.

Snow that looks like static. No, static is not solely comprised of white, so it must have been both black and white - more like an old newspaper.

The scene felt cold, the scene felt nostalgic, but something about the scene just felt wrong.

There is still another color missing from both the static and the newspaper.

Ah, that's right.

The Silver.

And this isn't a television. It's Television XXXXX

Sumio moved his face away and saved the warmth and sensation of Tetsu to his memory, and at long last, purposefully removed his hands from Tetsu's neck. Tetsu instantly and desperately gasped for air as warmth flooded back into his body, and the snow-filled static faded back into the recesses of his mind. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about just a moment ago, but he still felt the after images burned into his mind. Sumio sat above him, all thoughts surrendered, and watched carefully every breath and every movement, and felt the ever present darkness within himself recede, although Sumio knew that it would never be completely gone.

The sound of harsh inhales, soft breaths, white noise and static filled the silence of the room until Tetsu was able to regain composure. He swept the stray bangs from his eyes and focused in on Sumio again.

Tetsu took a long inhale and deep sigh, "Feel better now?"

A tentative pause.

"…Yes." Sumio was just as surprised at the outcome.

"Now don’t ever try that again you stupid motherfucker." Tetsu managed to plant his foot somewhere around Sumio’s rib cage and kicked hard, knocking Sumio sideways onto the other side of the bed as he himself rolled out of bed and made his way over to his jacket slung over the back of the armchair. Even though Tetsu already knew the answer, he still asked.

"Still feel like killing me?" He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and a vintage matchbox. He thought he had more cigarettes remaining, but he must have been mistaken. He struck a match which illuminated all the shadows as he lit his cigarette and he watched the smoke curl towards the ceiling.

An even longer tentative pause as Sumio considered whether to lie or tell the truth - and even more than that, whether Tetsu would be able to tell whether he was lying or not. The criminal intent was gone, but the feelings still remained.

"……Yes."

"Well, it can’t be helped."

Tetsu's literal kill switch.

No, of course Sumio didn’t know it. It was better that way. He simultaneously hoped that he would never have to share it with Sumio, but also hoped that he could do so one day.

Sometimes you want your words and feelings to reach another person.

But sometimes it is more simply the action of bringing those thoughts and feelings into existence, by attaching words to them. Maybe you don’t even have the words, and they come out wrong. A discommunication - a broken connection.

And although he knew that Sumio did not understand, for just a second, he still fantasized about it. After all, that was his outlet. Not that he would ever admit to it to anyone except for the Old Man. He wasn’t stupid after all.

"You better hope you actually succeed next time or I’ll shoot you in the fucking face, you fuckstick."

Tetsu let out a long exhale and when Sumio provided no response, he looked back over to the bed. Sumio had somehow fallen asleep in the last few minutes, which was not unexpected. It had been a long day for Sumio Kodai.

Tetsu took a long drag from his cigarette and fell backwards into the armchair. He remembered that he had done something equally stupid to the Old Man back in the day. Got his ass whupped immediately. But because of that, Tetsu knew a secret that even Sumio did not know yet: that as much as Sumio may feel the desire to kill him, Sumio would never actually be able to go through with it. Since it was the same for him as well.

Tetsu rubbed at his sore neck which felt like it was already starting to bruise. It was a still a stupid gamble though, even if Tetsu knew he would win this one. Tetsu was surprisingly, or not surprisingly, good at gambling - but only when it came to human beings. He had been a detective long enough, lived long enough and seen enough that he knew the ins and outs of what it was like to be human. Specifically, humans that weren’t him anyway. Although he wished that his skill could translate to horse races though - he was impressively broke.