Chapter Text
The nightmares plagued him constantly. Though they never felt like nightmares, more like remnants of his past.
Like things that had happened to him multiple times over, the sickening repetition of a bloody mess and unfamiliar faces blinking in and out of sight.
These glimpses of another life was disturbing enough for him to class them as nightmares- the eyeless faces often startling him awake- but they were oddly a source of comfort as well.
He had the sense that he was surrounded by friends through the bloodshed, a white haired man sticking out amongst them all.
Though these were just dreams, they had never happened to him before. They may feel like his past, but they were yet to become his present and likely never will.
But, again, these dreams were so vivid, felt so real, like the trauma from shit he hadn’t experienced stuck with him, leaving him waking up searching for the sword he has never kept by his bed.
—
Junichiro Tanizaki usually managed to wake up on time for work. It was something he prided himself upon, seeing as he had little motivation to get up in the mornings, combined with the fact that he was a deep sleeper.
He had to charge his phone right next to his pillow in order for one of his many alarms to wake him up every day.
Every day except for today, it seemed.
Naomi, being the little shit she was, decided that he could use some extra shut eye and turned off all his alarms.
“Naomi, I told you to stop messing with my alarms!!!” Junichiro calls from his room, exasperated. “I'll be late for work!”
Little gremlin giggles came from the sitting room.
“Being a little late won't hurt you!”
“What if it does? This job is what pays for our home!” His voice was slightly muffled due to him pulling his jumper over his head.
“Mr. Fukuzawa is basically our dad, he won't kick us out that quickly.”
“Also, Juni- did remember to take off your binder last night?”
Junichiro paused, momentarily stopping what he was doing- adjusting his binder that was damp from sweating overnight.
“....yep!” He chirped, bursting out of his room. He walked swiftly towards the kitchen, stopping to ruffle Naomi's hair from where she sat at the table, studying.
“Don't forget you have therapy after school today.” He reminded her as he glanced at the writing scrawled on the kitchen calendar.
Naomi simply hummed in response, grinning up at him.
Junichiro grinned back, glad that his sister was finally getting the help she needed. Their relationship had become much more platonic- as it should be- after her first session.
Junichiro slotted his toast in the toaster, and pushed it down as he got out the butter.
On the counter, he noticed an unfamiliar, worn down, hand written book. It looked old, and it claimed to be non-fiction despite the back cover raving about demons and the killing of them. Curious, Junichiro picked up the old, battered book and began to flick through it.
“This book is new. To our apartment- I mean. Is it for school?”
If it was for school; he was going to have to lecture Naomi on why it was important to keep your school books in good condition. He’s had to replace three books already this year. And if he didn’t feel like a lecture, he could just get Kunikida to do it.
Naomi shook her head, holding her hand up in a ‘pause’ motion as she finished chewing her food.
“No, my friend Yoshiteru leant it to me. Claims that his great-grandfather wrote it.”
Junichiro paused his flicking on a random page and glanced down at.
“Then as the demons faltered at my sheer power and eerie state of calm; I sliced the two beast’s heads clean off’...?” He read aloud. “So your friend's great-grandfather was an author of fiction?”
Naomi raised her hand and wagged a finger at him. “He claims that it’s his grandfather’s autobiography- but I call bullshit.”
Junichiro pretended to hit her with the book.
“Language!”
She scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t curse all the time.”
Junichiro looked away, a tad bit embarrassed. “Well…. Mr Kunikida told me to stop cursing around the office… Kenji’s been picking it up, so I’ve tried to stop cursing in general…”
Naomi laughed. “You better try harder then! Besides; Kenji’s fourteen! Everyone curses at fourteen- and if I remember correctly, you had a rather foul mouth at fourteen!”
Junichiro shook his head dismissively- not wanting to recall his life prior to the Agency.”
Getting this subtle hint, Naomi moved on.
“Anyway- Yoshiteru told me to read it before I protested against it’s contents- but it’s impossible to read when the cover keeps falling off!” She whined.
Junichiro shit the book, closing the page with the drawing of the red-haired man cleaning his sword. He examined the top of the book from above.
“Mhm… The glue used wasn’t of high quality. And it looks pretty old… So it probably just wore down over the years…” He glanced back up at his sister.
“I reckon I could fix this up while you’re at school.”
“You could?”
He nodded. “It’d be a thanks of sorts for your friend having you over all the time.”
Naomi tilted her head. “Why would he need to be thanked?”
“For dealing with you so much.”
“...I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel offended or not.”
Junichiro smiled as he picked up his messenger bag and carefully placed the book inside.
“I’ll borrow Mr Kunikida’s fancy glue he keeps for his notebook.”
He closed his bag with a click, taking a moment to count all of his pins, ensuring that they were all there.
He quickly grabbed his phone from where it was charging on the floor. He walked past the table on his way to the exit; and made sure to ruffle Naomi’s hair before he reached the front door.
“Are we still watching our show tonight?” Naomi called after him.
Junichiro opened the door.
“Oh, definitely.” He confirmed. “We’ll watch it right when I get back from work.”
…
…
If he ever returned from work at all.
—-
Junichiro almost killed himself while getting to work on time. Yes, he was mostly at fault for not checking as he crossed the road- but the truck should’ve seen him coming.
But he didn’t want to be late, so he skipped over nursing his minor scratches and here he is now- finishing some paperwork at his desk, wearing his noise cancelling headphones.
Or rather, he was- he felt a threatening presence looming behind him, and he knew he was fucked. He yelped in surprise, hands flying to his ears when his headphones were torn from his head by an annoyed Kunikida.
“Junichiro Tanizaki! I’ve told you a million times to stop wearing these things around the office!” He scolded.
Junichiro rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and hummed in agreement.
Kunikida crossed his arms. “And do you know why I keep telling you to take a break from them at work?”
“...Because they’re damaging my hearing?”
“Because they’re damaging your hearing.” Kunikida repeated, lightly hitting Junichiro with his notebook.
There were a few moments of silence.
“So. Can I have them back, or…?”
“Not a chance.” Kunikida snapped. “Now come with me.” He tilted his head back slightly, gesturing loosely to his desk behind him.
Junichito got the cue and stood up, following Kunikida to his desk. He sighed as he watched his headphones join Dazais in the ‘Desk Drawer of Banishment’. Kunikida locked said drawer, then opened the one above it, pulling out a file that was stuffed with papers.
“You’ve been assigned a job.” He said, placing the file on the desk and tapping it thrice.
Junichiro flipped it open, eyes flicking over the words on the first page. “A job? Surely I’d have been notified of this like, yesterday.”
That’s usually what happened. They were usually given at least a day’s notice for cases. Especially since they’ve been busy lately.
“This is an exception. The President selected you specifically for it.” Kunikida informed him.
A swell of bothe pride and anxiety welled up within Junichiro.
The President chose him?
But- what if Junichiro let him down?
“Oh. Neat.” He murmured, not knowing what else to say.
With a flourish of his hand, Kunikida presented Junichiro with a picture of his apparent target.
“This is Arataka Kageyama.”
“Is that an alias of his?”
“No. We know very little about him; but in what little we do know, is that he does not use an alias. He’s also orchestrated a drug ring, and he’s at the centre of it. He deals to everyone- he especially preys on the vulnerable, including children.” Kunikida explained, with a look of distaste.
“And we’re taking this case because…” Junichiro trailed off as he read through the provided papers. “He’s an ability user.”
Kunikida hummed in confirmation. “And a powerful one at that.”
Junichiro continued to comb through the papers.
“You won’t find the details of his ability in there. It’s pretty much unknown.”
Junichiro felt a pit of dread form in his stomach.
“Oh.”
Kunikida ran a hand through his hair.
“But I’m not going to send you in there completely blind. When someone approaches him- likely those with the intentions of causing him harm, or arresting him- he uses his ability to make them disappear. We don’t know whether they are disappearing off of the face of the earth, or are simply being sent elsewhere. For all we know, his victims are still out there suffering somewhere. That’s what makes him so dangerous.”
Junichiro swallowed the lump in his throat.
“And that is the reason for this job. We need to successfully arrest him and prevent the use of his ability.”
“I-if that’s the case, why send me on this job? Why not send Dazai; if we don’t want him using his ability?”
Kunikida looked away.
“He… had an encounter with the river this morning, as he usually does, but…”
Junichiro never liked how everyone in the Agency always glossed over Dazai’s suicidal tendencies. It always made him sick when Dazai walked into the office late and soaking wet.
“But this time, he jumped in with weights in his pockets. It was a serious attempt. Luckily I was nearby and could fish him out. But I can’t believe that I didn’t take him seriously sooner…” He took off his glasses and brushed away a non-existent stain. “And I’m his partner, for God’s sake…”
Junichiro patted Kunikida’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He knew that while it didn’t seem like it, Kunikida and Dazai were close. They were pretty much always together, both in work and outside of it. Their dynamic almost reminded him of an overprotective, strict mother and a carefree father. He hated the saddened look that was on Kunikida’s face.
“Is he in the infirmary?”
Kunikida nodded, putting his glasses back on.
“Go check on him. I’ll start this job right now.”
Kunikida gave him a small smile, and ruffled his hair as he turned to enter Yosano’s domain.
And Junichiro grabbed the file, picked his bag up as he trudged through the office, and left.
He added another thing to his ever growing to do list.
1. Collect paycheck.
2. Re glue Naomi's book.
3. Check on Dazai. (Bring him crab????)
—
Junichiro ran over to the familiar scarred police officer who manned the crosswalk outside Yokohama’s elementary school.
“San… e… hiro..!” He forced out between pants, leaning forward as he rested his hands on his knees.
The man looked down at him.
“Ah- Junichiro. What brings you here? Don’t you have work?”
Junichiro always liked Sanehiro. Sanehiro was a few years ahead of him in school, and he always looked up to him. He was strong willed, and while he came across as aggressive; he always cared for his friends as if they were his family.
For four years, Sanehiro treated him more like family than his own. He’d always greet Junichiro in the halls, help him with homework, was the first to use his correct pronouns, and even invited him over on occasion. And most importantly; Sanehiro didn’t discriminate against him for having an ability. Junichiro could trust that Sanehiro wouldn’t treat him like he was abnormal, or like a danger to others. While he didn’t know how to console fifteen year old Junichiro when he was feeling down regarding his ability, he shared his own daydreams of having an ability that was channelled through a sword.
In fact, once Sanehiro had joined the police force- he was the one that recommended him to the Armed Detective Agency. Junichiro would be forever in his debt for that.
“Ah- I’m actually here on a job. Have you heard of Arataka Kagayama?”
Sanehiro’s brow furrowed. “The gifted drug dealer? Isn’t that a bit dangerous for a kid like you to be dealing with on his own?”
Junichiro frowned, though he was suppressing a smile. “I’m eighteen. I’m an adult!”
“...I’d ruffle your hair if I wasn’t on duty.”
Junichiro shook his head in amusement.
“Anyway- have you…” He rooted in his bag to find the photo. “Seen this man anywhere?” He held up the photo Kunikida had shown him earlier.
Sanehiro leaned closer to get a better look.
“Well, I can’t say that I-” He froze mid sentence, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t look now… but I see your guy. He’s slipped into the alleyway behind us…”
Junichiro nodded, muttering a ‘thanks’ as he waited one, two, three seconds before he disappeared behind Light Snow , but not before dismissing himself with a small salute.
He crept down the alleyway, walking swiftly while keeping his footsteps near silent.
He isn't visible when his ability is in use, and he's actively masking his presence- that is, to everyone but himself. In a way.
He lifted his hand and waved it in front of his face, only seeing green pixel-like squares that made up a hand like shape.
Taking extra care to be silent, Junichiro took the sedative he received from Yosano from his bag.
His plan was to get close, sedate him, and bring him back to the office, where he'd be kept drugged until Dazai was back in working condition.
He slowly crept down the alleyway, his gaze not leaving Kagayama.
Which ended up being his downfall, as he crashed into some bins, and his target's attention immediately turned to him.
Or rather, the spot in which he was standing.
Kagayama couldn't see him.
“Who's there?!?” He barked.
Junichiro did not reply.
But he crept closer anyway.
Rings of bright light surrounded the now paranoid criminal as his palms glowed a light red.
“I said, who's. There.”
He threw his arm forward, shooting bursts of light around all willy nilly.
Junichiro managed to dodge them all, using the commotion as an excuse to rush up behind him.
He placed his hand on Kagayama's shoulder, allowing himself to become visible once more. He held the syringe that held the sedative in the other.
“You're under arrest.” This was going easier than he expected. He'd be back in the office before lunch.
Kagayama scowled, and tried to kick Junichiro's legs from under him. “You bastard! I'll fucking kill you!”
“No you won't.” He raised the syringe to the man's neck swiftly, and prepared to insert it.
He hesitated.
Oh, he was getting nauseous just looking at this thing.
He never liked needles.
Little did this Junichiro know, this small hesitation, his fear of needles, was going to cause him months, if not years of countless traumas and near death experiences.
Kagayama used that small, not even noteworthy moment to raise his hand back into Junichiro's face, charging up that red light of his.
“Say goodbye, detective.”
Junichiro tried to run away, to escape, to call Kunikida, but Kagayama had grabbed his arm and now held it in an iron grip. The hand by his face only inched closer, grasping it firmly as the light grew bigger and harsher.
“I wish I could say see you later. But no one will be seeing you ever again!” He chuckled.
Junichiro tried to break free, but he felt the energy drain from his body as he thrashed and kicked. He could do nothing but scream in agony at the light induced migraine, and pray that someone came to his rescue.
God he was pathetic.
He couldn't do one thing right.
Fuck, fuck, fuck why did he ever join a detective agency?
He knew why- it was one of the very few places that'd employ an ability user.
He always wanted to be a psychologist.
Why didn't he become a psychologist?
Being a detective was great, but life is too short to not pursue your passions.
The pain was unbearable now.
His scream was cut short as it felt like he was being yanked out of his body, and slammed against a brick wall at the speed of light.
The only thing that remained of Junichiro Tanizaki was the hairclip that had come loose during his struggle.
—
Junichiro was still alive.
He was hardly able to stand.
But he was still alive.
He cried out in pain as he tried to sit up, opting to remain leaning against the tree in the forest that was certainly not in Yokohama.
But he had a knack for getting into trouble.
Because he was about to become someone's meal.