Chapter Text
The pavement under Yuuta’s chest is warm from the afternoon sun, causing sweat to pool under his black tactical gear. He hated doing missions during the day for this reason. He’s overheating, itchy and dying to just go home and shower. But he needed the money and this was the only hit Gojo said was available for the week, so he's there, sweating his ass off instead of rotting in bed. Yay.
He gets an alert from his holopad next to him, the noise letting him know that his target has entered the room. The file folder he got with the information on this hit was very sparse, only giving him a time and place. Yuuta had scoped the building out the night before, rigging each floor with biometric scanners that would send him a signal when the target moved through a certain area. He swiped his hand over the device, enlarging the image the screen captured. It took a second to fully load, but once it did he could make out silver hair and a cybermetric mask.
Bingo.
He reached forward to adjust the scope attached to his rifle. Yuuta’s gun of choice was a sleek black sniper that he has carried with him on every mission. His favorite thing about it is that it’s easy to pack up and its silencer is next level, giving him a lot of room to work with in terms of short to medium distances. He squints through the scope, applying the slightest tilt of the barrel until there- a floor to ceiling panel of glass attached to the office his holopad just pulled up.
He kept scanning the room before finding what he was looking for. The target, nameless, looked to be around his age. Definitely shorter and sported much lighter hair--he could pass as a normal office worker, but he walked with a certain air around him, his steps too calculated. His hands were hidden in his pockets, adding a sense of nonchalance and relaxedness around him--false innocence. Yuuta’s shoulders rose and dropped with each settling breath he took, calming his heart to a slower beat.
He’s not new to this job, he’s been in the business for years, but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier. He feels a drop of sweat slide down his forehead and he sniffs. Just get this over with and you can go home and become one with your couch. Yuuta watches as the boy walks closer to the windows, his mask glowing in increments. It was strange to Yuuta, he has never seen anything like this before but he decides it's pointless to dwell. It’s not like he cares enough to know this guy's life story, he’s here because he either pissed someone off or committed a crime and got away with it. C’est la vie.
The butt of his sniper presses sharply into his shoulder as he tilts it one last time. The target is now looking out of the window, squinting against the light. For a second, Yuuta thinks he is looking for something, but he shrugs it off. This guy may be good, but Yuuta can guarantee he’s better. He prides himself on his efficiency and the fact that he has never blown a cover. He pulls back the hammer on the side of his rifle, cocking it with a slight click. His breathing has evened and he’s settled into his body, an eerie calmness taking over as he sits back and lets his body move on autopilot. The motions are routine at this point, and he trusts his body not to fail him. His finger slides from the side of the barrel to the trigger with confidence.
Yuuta watches one last time as the boy scans the buildings around him and takes a final breath. His brain had just gotten ready to give his finger the command to shoot when he noticed violet eyes staring him down through his scope. His heart stuttered and his finger twitched away from the trigger. That was mistake number one.
Mistake number two was hesitating enough to allow the boy to raise a hand and wave as to say ‘I see you, nice try.’ Yuuta frowns, and looks up from behind his scope in time to notice the boy’s other hand sneaking out from his pocket, a rectangular shaped device grasped between his fingers. Heat flashes through his body as he jolts to action quickly collapsing his rifle and rushing to shove it in its bag. He’s pushing himself off the ground when he risks another glance back at the boy who he swears could’ve been smirking under that mask. But as soon as his feet get under him, he's being blown back into the stairwell door. His ears ring as he feels the vibrations of a second explosion go off somewhere near him. He scrambles to sling his bag over his head as he shoulders his way through the fire escape.
Fuck. Fuck.
He trips over his feet as he clambers down the stairs, breath coming out of him in uneven wheezes. Not only is he not going to get paid, but he ruined his chances of catching his target off guard.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuckkkkk,” He mumbles to himself as he descends as fast as he can go. Mentally he’s preparing himself to be met face first with a group of armed guards at the bottom of the stairs, because well shit, he fucked up big time. How the boy knew exactly where he was, he can’t say, but if he knew that, what else could he know? He reached for the pistol he carries on a strap around his leg, hurriedly cocking it in preparation of hitting the bottom of the stairs.
He bursts through the door, squinting at the light that hits him in the face. He raises his gun in anticipation but is met with empty air. He lets out a breath and holsters the pistol, looking both ways before dashing into the alley’s shadows. He pulls out his wrist pad and taps a rushed message to Fushiguro, his de facto partner after Rika passed.
[ Compromised. Need immediate extraction. ]
He watches as three dots appear on the screen, letting him know that Fushiguro saw his message.
[ On my way. ]
Yuuta huffs out a sigh of relief and sticks to the shadows, crouching down at the end of the alley. He quickly assesses his body, scanning for any signs of blood. Thankfully they’re just small cuts, nothing too dramatic. Regardless, he needs a shower and a drink.
--
Fushiguro arrives around ten minutes later, quicker than Yuuta was anticipating.
“You look like shit,” Fushiguro deadpans, eyeing Yuuta’s torn up clothing.
Yuuta huffs out a laugh. “Geez, thanks Sherlock. Do you have any extra gear in the car?” Fushiguro just nods his head towards the trunk in response. Yuuta can always count on him to be more prepared than himself. He typically has to turn around after he's already left the house because he forgot his extra ammo cartridges on the counter. He pops open the trunk and finds a black duffel bag with a little white dog keychain attached to the zipper. Yuuta raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, silently smiling to himself.
His new partner had a partner of his own before Yuuta, and rumor has it that outside of being a triggerman and his driver, they’re an item. Yuuta has never asked his driver outright if they were together, Fushiguro is not the type to talk about personal lives with, let alone romantic lives. He’s kind of broody and seems to have a permanent frown between his eyes. So, Yuuta doesn’t press.
He unzips his own vest and swaps it out for the non-shredded one he found in Fushiguro’s bag. “Do you think you can swing me by Gojo’s place? I need to talk to him about something and I might as well get a drink out of it.” He zips the vest on, throws his own bag in and shuts the trunk. It’s not like he’s particularly happy about having a conversation with his boss, the man never seems to walk a straight line when it comes to finding a point, but he needs more information regarding the silver haired target he mistakenly thought would be simple.
Fushiguro is looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “The fuck you want to see him for?” To some people, it may have come across as accusatory, but Yuuta has known him for a while now, he says it with no real malice. Truth is, Megumi Fushiguro is probably the closest to kin Gojo Satoru has, growing up in that environment is probably why he’s as snarky as he is.
Yuuta lifts one shoulder in a slight shrug which seems to be enough for the other boy because he rolls his eyes and climbs into the driver seat. “Let’s go.”
Yuuta blew out a breath of air, sliding into the passenger seat with the grace of an elephant. He knows he should mentally prepare himself for his talk with Gojo, but the present is more pressing because as soon as Fushiguro puts the car in drive, he’s shooting out of the alley like a comet.
Yuuta grunts, bracing a hand on the dash. Like he said earlier, Gojo raised him, which means he also taught him how to drive. When Yuuta first had the opportunity to be Fushiguro’s passenger, he feared for his life, bracing himself with a hand on the roof. This is not to say Fushiguro is a terrible driver, quite the opposite actually, but he barely bats an eye when he takes a corner too fast or squeezes through an alley. It's chilling how relaxed he looks behind the wheel going over 100 in a 50. So yeah, Yuuta has a right to fear for his life, even if he knows logically Fushiguro is pretty skilled.
He shifts gears and the car jumps. “So…” Fushiguro glances over at him briefly before turning back to the road. “What happened?”
This startles Yuuta slightly. It’s not as if it's the first time Fushiguro has inquired about a mission, but it still causes him to hesitate. “I was…compromised.” Short and sweet, right?
“No shit, but how?” Fushiguro increases his speed. The city's buildings pass by them in a blur, the afternoon sun dipping behind them and casting them in a slight glow. Yuuta inhales deeply.
“I don’t know, they knew I was coming before I did, I guess.” This seems to be enough of an answer for Fushiguro because he doesn’t push further. They sit in silence for the remainder of the ride, the only noise coming from Fushiguro switching gears every now and then. Eventually they reach the outside of Bloodhounds, the club that Gojo runs (a convenient front for his boss).
Fushiguro looks over to him once they’ve parked. “Get out, I don’t want to linger.” When Yuuta raises an eyebrow at this the other boy gives him reason. “I don’t need Gojo coming out here and bothering me, I’ll have enough of a headache with Yuuji at home.” Now both of Yuuta’s eyebrows raise but before he can get another word out, the passenger side door is being slung open.
“Yuuta!!!” An overly-cheery Gojo greets them, black sunglasses pushed down the bridge of his nose so that his cold blue eyes can scan over him. He’s wearing his typical all black suit, neatly tailored to his slim build. “Yeesh kid, got kind of roughed up didn’t you?” He internally cringes, ready to somehow refute when the older man's gaze snaps to his driver.
“Megumiiiiiii,” Gojo drags out his name while slumping to eye the boy, one arm holding the roof of the car supporting his upper body as he presses forward into the car. Yuuta shrinks back, laughing awkwardly. “Megumi, have you been avoiding me? Little old me?”
Yuuta dares a look over to the aforementioned boy and notices his knuckles are white from his tight grip on the steering wheel.
“Yes.” Nothing else, just…yes. Yuuta holds his breath while he waits for more dramatics from Gojo.
Gojo gasps, his free hand coming up to clutch his chest in anguish. “You wound me Megumi! Don’t tell me it’s because I reassigned you-” his blue eyes flash in the darkness, a knowing smirk dances on his lips when he says the next words. “From Yuuu-jiiii.” It's a blatant tease, Fushiguro should know this, but he still takes the bait.
The steering wheel groans from how tight he’s gripping it. “I don’t want to talk about him with you.” Yuuta wishes he could implode on the spot.
“Why,” Gojo pouts. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” There's a feline look in his eyes, like he’s getting genuine joy out of watching Fushiguro squirm. But Yuuta does not want to partake in this any longer and he still needs that drink.
“Actually, Gojo-sensei, I do need to talk to you about the mission.” Gojo’s focus shifts back to Yuuta and he leans out of the car.
“Well at least one of my children wants to talk to me,” Gojo says dramatically. “Let’s go kid, you look like you need a drink.” Yuuta’s brain supplies a
finally
before he makes to get out of the car. Fushiguro pops the trunk for him to grab his bag and he thanks him before the boy speeds off, the smell of burnt rubber filling his nose.
Gojo pushes his glasses up as he turns around. “I guess he really wanted to get home, huh?” There's a joke hidden in his words but Yuuta chooses to ignore it. Fushiguro’s personal life is his and his alone. Anyways, right now Yuuta needs answers.
They make their way to the front doors, the two guards standing by let them pass with a nod from Gojo. Once inside, Yuuta can hear music coming from further down the hallway. Gojo leads them to the heart of the club where strobing lights and heavy bass override all senses. The bar sits in the center of the floor, where Yuuta sees a familiar face manning the drinks. Short auburn hair frames her face, interrupted by an eyepatch, as she flits around behind the counter. Yuuta has known Nobara for a couple years now, he knew her before the accident that caused her to wear that eyepatch, before she was the club's bartender.
She used to be--and still is--extremely lethal, but she was pulled from the field after the accident. Her days as a triggerman (woman?) ended. Now though, she yells a curse at a man demanding a refill while she attends to someone else's drink. Yuuta has seen her do much worse to men, but for now, this seems to satisfy her anger.
He and Gojo walk over to the bar and it takes a moment for her to notice them but when she does, her face lights up. “Yuuta! Oh my god- you look like shit!” This forces a laugh from him. Out of everyone tonight that has told him this, she is the only one who smiled while saying this. Now I know what you’re thinking. What kind of lunatic would be okay with their friend smiling at you being beat up? But Yuuta knows she’s seen him in much worse states.
“You should see the other guy,” he jokes back at her, earning a cackle.
“Okay champ.” She rolls her eyes and reaches for her shaker. “Same as usual?” He nods at her and looks to Gojo at his side to ask if he wanted anything but he simply raised a hand and shook his head. Nobara shrugged and got to work on his drink.
Yuuta turns his back to lean his elbows on the counter, facing the dance floor where bodies mesh and flow to the beat of whatever famous pop song is playing. Yuuta can’t make it out over all of the noise, but it didn’t matter anyways, he wasn’t here to dance. He turns to face Gojo who has mimicked his position at the bar, glasses still pushed up, but Yuuta can tell his eyes are scanning the crowd intently.
“So, what did you need to talk to me about?”
Nobara nudges Yuuta’s shoulder and hands him his drink. He thanks her quickly before turning back around. “I was compromised.” He takes a sip from his glass, damn Nobara and her talent with liquor.
“Hmm, how so?” Gojo asks this so nonchalantly that Yuuta has to pause in his next sip.
“What do you mean, ‘ how so? ’ I was compromised from the very start, they knew I was coming, Gojo.” He rethinks the night before and his careful rigging of alarms and making sure that his cameras were planted out of sight. “They shouldn’t have known I was going to be there, but they did. So, how?”
Gojo seems to think for a second before inclining his head to the floor above them where his office lies. They make their way through the crowd, Yuuta clutching his liquid gold to his chest as they bump into drunk dancers. He lets out a sigh of relief when they hit the stairs, making the climb up to the second floor. There is another set of guards blocking Gojo’s office but they step aside as soon as they approach.
Gojo opens the door for him and shuts it quickly, gesturing for him to take a seat. Yuuta finds the small sofa by the window and sinks into it, taking another quick sip from his glass. He waits for Gojo to say something as he watches the man lean his hip into the side of his desk, eyes looking out the window.
“Things have changed. Nothing is what it seems anymore.” Yuuta waits for him to say something, anything else but when he doesn’t he scoffs.
“Well that’s some cryptid shit, but that doesn’t explain why I was the one being hunted here.” He takes another swig from his drink, letting it sit on his tongue before swallowing. “There has to be more information for this target, and if there is, I need it now.”
Gojo pushes off from his desk, tsking softly. “Some things, Yuuta, are too dangerous to know.” Yuuta throws up a hand at this, tired of the very not-helpful pieces of information that Gojo is giving him. “However, I do know this--Toge is highly skilled-” Toge? “-and highly cautious, so if you take one step, he’s taken three, got it?” Yuuta nods, but his brain is working overtime, the name Toge bouncing around like crazy. He tips back the rest of his drink to shut it up.
“So what does that mean for him as my target though?”
Gojo crosses his arms. “Play the defensive instead of the offensive. Gather intel, don’t be a quick trigger. Watch him and then you’ll have your case.” He finally turns to face Yuuta, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “And Yuuta? Remember that not all rules are good rules.”
Yuuta frowns at this, unsure of what Gojo fully means, but that can be saved for a time where his brain is not functioning at low battery with alcohol fueling it. “Okay, yeah, thanks.” He pushes himself off of the sofa, making to head towards the door when he pauses. “Is…is everything okay, Gojo?”
He could have sworn the older man flinched, but it could also be the lighting and his exhausted mind making things things. Gojo faces him with a smile, glasses back to resting in their normal place.
“Of course, kid.”
Yuuta eyes him one last time before shouldering his way out of the office and heads back downstairs to the sea of bodies.
--
He ends up getting home much later than he anticipated and filled with more alcohol than he intended. He may be a pushover, but Nobara was an enabler. He locks the front door and kicks off his shoes, throwing his bag on the floor somewhere along the lines. Yuuta desperately wants to just crawl into his bed and never emerge, but he knows if he does that, he’ll wake up with a raging headache in the morning. He sighs, pushing his hair off his forehead as he makes his way into his small kitchen.
His place wasn’t something to complain about, rent was cheap and it was enough space for the likes of him, but sometimes he wishes he had an apartment with just a little bit more room. His kitchen area was right next to a tiny living area, two windows bringing in moonlight. And down the short hall was his room and bathroom, again, pretty decent sized for his solitary life, although Rika used to make jabs about how he should get a bigger place so she could stay around more often. Something like sorrow pangs in his heart, but he ignores it in favor of grabbing a glass out of the cupboard to fill it with water, leaning tiredly against the fridge. It feels like forever until his cup fills, but as soon as it does, he turns around and finishes it in one big gulp.
Yuuta places the cup in the sink and makes to grab for the tylenol bottle he keeps on his counter when he notices his bedroom door cracked open. His hand freezes on the bottle, his other hand slowly reaching towards the handgun at this thigh, unholstering it with quiet speed. He inches his way around the counter, both hands now grasping the gun as he makes his way towards his room. There’s a faint orange light coming from the gap, indicating that his lamp must be on, but Yuuta could have sworn that he turned it off when he left that morning. His fingers tighten around his gun as he nudges the door open wider with his foot, pointing the weapon at the revealed space.
His heart rate slows slightly when he finds the room empty, but it picks back up again when he notices his window is wide open. Now that he definitely knew was shut when he left. He spares another glance around the room before striding over to his window to shut and lock it. Once he’s done that, he lets out a sigh, wiping his free hand down his face. This doesn’t bode well. He shakes his head before doing a quick sweep of his apartment one more time, double checking to make sure all his windows are locked and that his front door is still intact. When he makes it back to his bedroom, he flops down on his bed, groaning into the pillows.
What the fuck was today.
He rolls over, tossing his gun onto his dresser haphazardly. It makes a small clink noise as it collides with something, causing Yuuta to frown. What now? He reaches over to inspect whatever it was that made that noise and finds a small holo-disk, meant for projecting images and holographs. He scrambles into a sitting position, grabbing the offending item from the dresser and holding it as if it was toxic waste. Logically, Yuuta knows he should probably show caution when opening this, but at this point, he’s too tired to care.
He swipes a hand over the device, activating it. Three little lights blink for a moment before the image appears in front of him. He freezes when it finally loads. It’s him, the night before, laying out his tools in preparation for the next day. He’s facing the opposite way from the camera in this picture, but he can clearly see himself rigging one of his trip wires that he uses to alert him of movement. Heat flashes over him as he notices the message towards the bottom of the image.
[ Until next time, pretty boy. ]
Yuuta chews on his cheek, quickly shutting down the image and tossing the device as far away from him as possible. This is great, no really, because not only did he royally fuck up his mission, but now whoever this Toge guy is knows where he lives and who knows what he could do with that information. He sighs in frustration. There’s no use in dwelling right now, he’ll just end up going in circles and lord knows that’s never good for him. He stands up and discards the rest of his clothing until he's standing there in only his boxers. He distantly remembers vowing to take a shower when he got home, but now the task seems impossible. Yuuta collapses on the bed for a final time and resolves himself to showering in the morning.
Tomorrow morning he can be a real person again, but for right now, he closes his eyes and lets the stress from the day ooze off of him.
He’ll deal with it then.
--
His alarm wakes him up at 8:00 to which he grumbles about and snoozes with great effort. Yuuta ends up getting up at 10:00 despite his promise to be productive today. Sleep clings to his eyes as he makes his way to his shower, hoping that this will wake him up for good. He ends up being right, the water washes off his lingering tiredness and grime from the night before.
Breakfast is an abandoned effort, he usually gets something while he’s out anyways. He makes quick work of getting dressed and packing his bag with extra ammo today. If he’s being overly cautious he has reason for it. He plans on going to a cafe by his apartment to do some research and get some kind of food for the day. He double checks to make sure all his windows are locked before slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out the front door, triple checking that lock.
He thinks back to the night before and his decision to sleep there in light of realizing his home was broken into. Honestly, he should have called up Nobara and asked to crash at her place, but when he didn't find any traps or explosives in his apartment, he deemed it safe enough to sleep in. As he makes his way down the stairs of his building, he checks his phone for any missed messages. None. Thank god.
He pockets the device and squints against the early afternoon sun, turning out of his complex and walking towards the small cafe he frequents. It was nice out today, he was able to get away with just wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, an extra jacket in his bag for when the sun goes down. He’s extra aware of his surroundings today as he makes his way into the coffee shop, holding the door open for a woman whose hands were full with a tray of drinks. She nods her thanks and he lets the door shut, walking to the counter.
The usual barista is there and he orders the same thing as always--black coffee and a toasted bagel. He pays and finds a seat in the corner of the shop, tucked away from the usual traffic. Yuuta was comfortable enough here that he typically has no problem reviewing his cases and studying up on his next targets. He pulls out his computer, powering it on when the barista comes over with his order, setting it on the table in front of him. He quietly thanks them and reaches for his drink, taking a sip. The taste hits his tongue the same moment the caffeine reaches his brain. He slumps with relief in his chair and types in his password to his computer when it prompts him.
He takes a bite from his bagel while he waits for the browser to load. Today he gets to start from square one and figure out just who this Toge person really is. Yuuta cracks his knuckles and gets to work.
--
The sun has just begun its descent when Yuuta finishes his research. He has a name and a slightly clearer picture of who he’s dealing with now. Toge Inumaki, the heir to the Inumaki business, one of the largest companies in Japan. He’s 23 (Yuuta’s age) and has only recently come out from the shadows, apparently hidden at a young age because of an attempt on his life when he was a kid. It didn’t say by who or what the motive was, Yuuta’s sure there was a lot of work done to cover that up. But he also didn’t find much on why Toge would be a target to his organization. He ends up shutting his laptop with a frustrated huff.
He knew more than he did yesterday, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. He packs up his things and apologizes to the barista who seems to be starting their closing tasks. They wave him off as he exits. He debates on whether or not he should go home, and ultimately decides against it. There’s still one more thing he should do tonight.
While doing his research, he discovered a bar that Toge frequents, seen there more than a couple times this past month. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to go check it out. He calls an Uber and waits for it to pick him up. Yuuta shrugs on the jacket he packed as the car pulls up. He climbs into it and thanks the driver, scrolling through his notes during the ride. Toge was never seen without at least one guard. She had dark green hair and some scarring that looked like it had been from burns. She looked pretty lethal in the pictures he saw of her, and he knows not to underestimate anyone in this business.
The car eventually pulls up to the bar, the driver signalling for him to get out. Yuuta tips him and slides out the passenger side. The building in front of him was massive, it wasn’t anything like Gojo’s hideout. This one, Snakes and Fangs, was towering over him, bouncers standing guard at the front. He walks up to them, flashing an ID and all he gets is a onceover and a curt nod before being let in. There’s a single elevator waiting at the top of a grand staircase which he climbs. Inside, he finds only one button, it has some sort of circular design on it, nonetheless he presses it. The elevator takes him to what he assumes is the top floor and he steps out, scanning his surroundings.
There's a door at the end of the hallway, lights flashing through its outline and music slipping out from under. Yuuta walks towards it, pulling the door towards him, the music ushering him in, pulling him. There's a small stage, shrouded in darkness in the far left corner where the sound is coming from. He sees the base of a microphone stand and two feet, but nothing else. The lighting in here was very dim, spotlights jumping over the crowd instead of the stage. Yuuta squints to shield his eyes from the lights.
Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know
The voice singing isn’t traditionally smooth, but there's a uniqueness that draws him in, a sort of buzzing feeling under his skin.
Butterflies all having' fun, you know what I mean
Yuuta places the song, having heard it in the past, but the way they’re singing it completely crushes his old distaste for it. He walks to the bar, albeit reluctantly, and orders a drink. He thanks the bartender and takes a sip. It’s not Nobara’s skills, but it’s good enough for right now.
It's a new dawn
Yuuta drifts back to the crowd, nursing his drink as he tries to get a glimpse of whoever is singing. They move across the stage, avoiding any and all light to Yuuta’s dismay.
It's a new day
Yuuta watches the crowd sway to the lyrics, equally drawn in as he is.
It's a new life for me
He takes another sip of his drink, inclining his head to get a better view. The singer walks back to center stage and everyone holds their breath.
And I'm feeling good
The light cuts to their face briefly, and it's enough for Yuuta to notice violet eyes and silver bangs. His heart stops in his chest, fingers clutching the glass in his hand tighter. There’s no way. But apparently the universe thinks messing with him is fun, because when the light finds him again, Toge Inumaki is staring right at Yuuta from the stage, eyes shining with something he can’t quite place.
I'm feeling good
Yuuta gulps, bringing the glass up to his lips to tilt back the rest of his drink. If this is how the evening is going to play out, he’ll need the liquid courage to face it. Toge keeps singing on stage, but Yuuta turns his back, heading to the bar to set down his glass. He makes it halfway there when he's stopped with a hand above his elbow. He tilts his head to the side. “I suggest you let go.”
The person holding him scoffs a laugh. “You sure you’re in the right place, pretty boy?” Yuuta flinches and tries to tug his arm free, but the hand tightens around him. “Uh uh, he wants to chat with you.” He finally faces the person holding him and is met with dark green hair and glasses. Yuuta sizes her up. She’s much bulkier in person, and he’s sure in a hand-to-hand fight, she’d come out winning. He grits his teeth and gives her a short nod.
He sends a prayer to anyone who’s listening and decides that if he’s going to get anywhere with this case, he might as well dive in head first, right? The woman leads him to a hidden door to the far right of the bar and Yuuta chides himself for not noticing it earlier, too drawn in by the singing. The soothing weight of his gun sits against his back, having tucked it into the band of his pants earlier.
She opens the door and waits for Yuuta to slip inside before shutting it behind them.
“Sit,” She demands, pointing to a chair situated across from a sleek black desk. Yuuta eyes it but ultimately sits, crossing his arms in defiance.
“So…what? You’re going to beat me ‘til I talk? Because I have news for you, I’ve been in this business a long time, and it’s going to take more than that to make me-”
“Good god, shut up would you?” Yuuta startles at the interruption, not expecting it to be honest. She pinches the bridge of her nose and leans against the doorframe. “I don’t even know why he bothers.” She mumbles and Yuuta furrows his brows.
“What do you-” He’s interrupted again as the door swings open, the woman stepping back as someone steps inside. He quickly recognizes this person as Toge and straightens in his chair, fingers itching for his handgun.
Toge makes a face at Yuuta’s twitching fingers but glances back at the green-haired greek goddess. “I’m good, Maki.” She--Maki--looks at him like she wants to say something but decides on throwing a glare in Yuuta’s direction and walking towards the door.
“Try anything funny and you’ll find the end of my knife to be your new best friend.” She shoulders her way through the door, leaving Yuuta to gulp in her absence. The relief is short lived though as he comes face to face with who was supposed to be his target, and well, it’s really looking like it’s the other way around, huh?
They size each other up, taking in and assessing each other as threats. Yuuta notices that Toge is substantially shorter than him, but more lithe, meaning he can probably wiggle his way out of anything. He’s wearing tight black pants and combat boots with a big tshirt, more than likely concealing weapons from the naked eye. The mask on his face looks even weirder up close. It's high-tech and fits over his nose up until the corner of his ears. Yuuta can’t tell how the hell it’s sitting on his face, but it's so snug it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Yuuta also noticed earlier when he spoke to Maki that the sigils on the sides seemed to glow in response with his words. He couldn’t get a clear view while he was singing, but Yuuta is sure the correlation is intentional to his way of speaking.
His eyes find those of violet and he inclines his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but Toge finds his words first. “Yuuta Okkotsu, 23, triggerman for Gojo Satoru, who also works for Jujutsu Technical, which is who you really work for. You pick up prescriptions at the drugstore down the street from your apartment--what was it, anxiety medications? That must be common in this business, right?” Yuuta’s jaw drops but the boy continues, sigils flashing with each word. “Your fridge contains a half-empty carton of eggs and most likely expired milk and you let your laundry pile up for weeks on end even though some of those clothes have blood stains on them, correct?”
Yuuta makes to stand, but Toge holds up a hand. “I’m not saying all of this to threaten you, merely to…advise you.”
This causes Yuuta to frown. “It sure as hell sounds like a threat to me.” He stands up now, eyeing Toge, taking into consideration their height difference. Yuuta probably has about a foot on him and he watches with satisfaction as Toge tilts his head back to keep looking him in the eyes.
Toge shrugs and crosses his arms. “If that’s your interpretation, by all means.” Yuuta takes another step forward, forcing Toge to take a step back towards his desk. He watches as the shorter boy assesses their position, violet eyes staring hard into his own. This close, Yuuta can see just how long Toge’s eyelashes are, silver matching his hair. There’s a small splatter of freckles Yuuta can make out just above the bridge of his mask, but everything else is covered by the mechanism. There’s another moment of tense silence before they both move, faster than either can tell.
Yuuta quickly pulls his gun from its hiding place and angles it right under the bottom edge of Toge’s mask, pressing against his neck and forcing him to tilt his head to the left. Toge blinks, not of surprise, but of boredness. It’s then he realizes why. Yuuta’s nostrils flare at the small but deadly knife pressed against his stomach. The tip of the blade pierces his skin just so under his white t-shirt, the threat evident.
He looks back up to meet Toge’s eyes again, gun still pressed against the boy's neck. His sigils flare with light as he says, “Not all rules though, right?” This startles Yuuta enough that his hand pulls back from Toge’s neck, which was a mistake. The other boy kicks out a leg, wrapping it around Yuuta’s ankle and bringing him to his knees. Toge adjusts his grip on his knife so it's now pressed against Yuuta’s throat. He goes still against the coldness of the blade. “Stay out of my way, and I’ll make sure to stay out of yours.” He presses the blade a little harder against Yuuta’s throat as he says this, forcing him to incline his chin even more to avoid it.
Toge crouches down now, making himself level to Yuuta. “While it’s nice that you’re such a pretty face,” his lashes dip and he looks at Yuuta’s lips. A shiver goes down his spine but he chooses to ignore it. “I’d prefer to keep our business separate, yeah?”
His eyes travel back up his face to meet Yuuta’s own. He blinks his affirmation, too afraid to move his head lest the knife break skin. Toge seems to think that his answer suffices because he nods to himself, before tilting his head, “Do give Gojo my best wishes.” He stands abruptly and sheaths his knife, gesturing for Yuuta to stand as well. He does, mind still reeling from this whole conversation. How the hell did he know about Gojo and what kind of coincidence is it that he knew about the conversation that he and Gojo just had the night before. Yuuta glances towards Toge who was fitting a hand over his mask as if he were going to remove it.
“Enjoy the show,” Toge says, light flaring in a way that made Yuuta think he was smirking under that mask. Another shiver traveled down his spine as he remembered that the voice that was singing so beautifully earlier was his. Toge rapped two knuckles on his desk and Maki was in the room not a second later. “We’re done here.” And that was all he said as he slumped down in the chair behind his desk.
Yuuta made to protest that No, they were in fact not done here, but Maki had already grabbed his arm and was hauling him out of the room. As he was being basically dragged out, Toge called out to him. “Oh and thanks by the way.” Yuuta frowned, not sure what he meant by that, and when he turned to question it, he saw his gun dangling from Toge’s fingers as he lounged behind the desk. Yuuta made to lunge for the door but it swung shut and Maki pushed him in the opposite direction.
“Out. And no lingering,” She gruffed out. “Go home.”
He tries to clear his head, but everything is running on overdrive inside his skull right now and his heart is beating out of his chest. She gave him one more push towards the exit and he obliged. Yuuta makes his way out of Snakes and Fangs in a daze, not quite remembering how he even got home. But when he walks through the front door, he's a gun short and nowhere near having answers to the mystery that is Toge Inumaki and why the Higher Ups want him dead. He turns to lock the door and rests his forehead against it, trying to settle his breathing.
He bangs his head against the door twice before pulling out his holopad. He sighs as he writes out a text, pondering a moment before sending it.
[ You up for a job? ]
The response is almost immediate.
[ I’m listening. ]