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The first thing he notices is the faint pounding in the side of his head. The second is the too soft surface he’s on; it’s nothing they have in the agency. The third has him launching himself up as he recalls, the agency blew up.
He pats himself down, searching for injuries. They movement is methodical, another case of muscle memory taking over. He lets it guide him as always.
His shoulders relax upon finding nothing out of place. Although it’s strange to him that his clothes didn’t seem even damp. Was he unconscious that long? Or did whoever find him dry him off? Speaking of actually- where was he?
“Beats the hell outta me,” Shinigami chimes in.
Yuma’s heart seizes in his chest for a moment. “But weren’t you here the whole time?” Like on the Amaterasu Express, goes unsaid, but not unheard.
His puffball of a companion just stretches back to his dismay. “It worked then because we weren’t in sync yet. We are now.” She dips in the air, pointer fingers pressed against each other, “Now, when you lose consciousness, my vision also goes dark.”
Shit. It hadn’t been relevant since the train. He hadn’t known…
“More importantly though, you almost died!” Shinigami picks back up her energy quickly, as she often does, “Hell, even as a death god, I thought I was gonna die!” She laughs it off. But, even without her more human form, he can see the tension weighing on her… but he can’t tell what part is actually bothering her. He doesn’t get to ask as she continues, “Anyway, now that you’re awake, so am I. Everything is a-okay so far!”
Yuma bites his lip. He doesn’t quite know where they stand well enough to push the issue, but it still sits wrong with him to just leave it be. He slumps; a stranger’s bedroom isn’t really the place for that kind of conversation anyway.
“Oh, oh! Speaking of, let’s go find out where we are!” She floats behind him and starts shoving at his shoulder in a mock attempt to shake him, though her hands just pass through him. “I wanna go exploring so bad, my eyes are watering!”
He snorts, “That’s a bit dramatic,” before rolling off to the right side of the bed and standing up.
It was only then that it hit him, he was still wearing his boots. Does whoever brought him here just not care or is this maybe a guest room? It’s hard to say. There are some magazines on the bedside tables, and a tablet on the left side too. And the bookcase is filled. But those could have very easily been placed there for guests. None of them show obvious signs of being read and the tablet isn’t even on, nor is the TV come to think about it. The bed is made perfectly, the only wrinkles in the sheets are from where he was lying down. It feels hollow. Like everything in this room is here because it looks like it should be, and not out of a genuine desire for it to be there. Opulence for its own sake.
The only thing that stands out is the fact that books on display on the top shelf are about anatomy. Are they a researcher, or a doctor? It’s an odd choice otherwise, but if true, it could explain the amount of money needed for how fancy everything is.
The doors to the back of the room and presumably the closet are both locked, although he can’t tell where the locks even are on the doors. He’s been putting it off a bit, but the only way to get any real answers is going to be leaving the room. He hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath. He’s not sure why, but there’s a nervous jitter in his chest- like he’s waiting for something. He just doesn’t know what it is yet.
He opens the door into a large, open penthouse. To his left, an open plan dining room and kitchen, with some stairs leading to a second floor he can’t see. To his right, a seating area and a large glass wall, giving a view out over Kanai Ward, though from here he can only see the Amaterasu Corporation. Its light drowning out the rest of the city that he can just barely see. It’s undeniably grand. But there’s even more empty space than the bedroom. And a frankly overwhelming number of lights on, he doesn’t think a single one in the entire room is off.
Directly across the room is maybe a hot tub. If it is, the jets are off and there’s no steam coming from it either. Wait… he can just barely make out the top of someone’s head. Is that who lives here? Yuma can faintly hear the water slosh as the person in the tub stands. Long blond hair sticks to their back, wet from the tub.
Yuma takes a step back. “Who’s- who’s there?” He calls across the room. His heart thunders in his chest. He can feel Shinigami, hover close to his shoulder.
They turn and all he can see is a stark white mask with a smiling face and one eye etched into it. They stiffly wave their hand, in complete opposition to their tone of voice, which lightly greets them, “Hi there.” They give a bow, and Yuma can hear the smile in their voice as they ask, “I sure look suspicious, huh?”
The mask intensely stares at him and Yuma swallows. They move to get out of tub, and- WHOA- HEY! Yuma squeaks, jumping out his skin. He rapidly turns around. They’re naked. They are completely naked. His face turns beat red and Shinigami laughs. He definitely saw their dick. Shinigami laughs louder. What the fuck. Why would somebody do that?
“Well clearly someone is comfortable in their own skin. I can’t decide who’s more perverted, you for looking down or him for being naked in the first place,” Shinigami considers coyly. Yuma just knows she’s smirking right now and slaps his hands over his face. It only makes the burning heat of embarrassment worse. “I think I’ll just blame you, Master.”
The temptation to respond back out loud is great, but Yuma clamps his jaw down and winds up making a strange huff mixed with a whine. It’s not helping his case.
The embarrassment finds a way to get worse still once Yuma realizes he can just barely hear over Shinigami and fabric shuffling, the stranger is chuckling too. The emotional whiplash threatens to drive him insane. Could his problems at least be consistent in variety?! Can he have a normal day in Kanai Ward, is that too much to ask?
“Yup,” Shinigami pops.
Yuma splutters internally. It wasn’t a real question!
The shuffling of fabric slowly eventually and the stranger calls out, “You can look now, you know.” There’s a teasing lilt in his tone.
It makes him hesitate, but he slowly turns. The stranger is still pulling his shirt on, and Yuma immediately darts his eyes away from them again. Is it too late to turn around again?
Shinigami shoves at his shoulder, “Jeez, Master, he can’t be in any state of dress without you thinking naughty thoughts about him.” She plays smacking him in the head, “Quit being a pervert and focus!”
On what!? Yuma mentally protests.
“His face- or well- the creepy mask he’s wearing.”
Yuma puffs his cheeks at her, eyes darting back to the stranger. His shirt is on fully and Yuma can’t help but watch him as he deftly ties his tie, hardly looking focused as if he’s done it a million times and no longer needs to think about it. His suit jacket is pulled on and buttoned with the same amount of careless certainty in his actions.
Shinigami sighs behind Yuma. “You really are a helpless case, Master.”
And he really doesn’t know how to defend himself from that. He was staring. Still is technically.
The stranger tilts his head towards Yuma, and Yuma can just imagine the smile underneath the mask. “Well, shall we?” He asks, gesturing towards the seating area to Yuma’s right.
Yuma hesitates for a moment before stepping forward, nodding.
The two walk over, the stranger stretching his arms over his head, revealing just the thinnest slit of skin where his shirt isn’t properly tucked in. “The was quite refreshing.” Yuma very intentionally focuses forward, silent. No need to add more fuel to the fire for Shinigami to tease him over. The other’s fast-pace finds him reaching the sofa before Yuma and he reclines, completely at ease in the space.
“… His feet aren’t touching the floor.” Shinigami points out.
Yuma has to restrain a snort. She’s right, with how far back he’s sitting, his feet are dangling over the edge of the sofa. Yuma wasn’t paying close attention, but he figures that the man must be around his height if that’s the case. He always feels silly with his feet dangling when talking with the other detectives at the NDA, so at this point it’s almost habit to remain standing like he is now. Honestly though, he’s not very bothered by it. He’d get restless sitting down anyway.
Makoto continued talking, unaware of Yuma’s diverted attention. All Yuma catches is, “Would you like to join me next time?”
Is he… talking about the hot tub? “N-no thanks…” What an odd thing to offer to someone you just met. Unless…
“If you’re embarrassed about taking off your clothes, you can hop in with them on,” Makoto suggests. He might just be a very odd man. “I do that once every three times anyway.” … An incredibly odd man.
Shinigami scoffs, “More than odd, he’s a complete weirdo!” She floats around to his other side. “Whatever he has to say, can’t be that meaningful.”
Yuma purses his lips. I wouldn’t go that far, but… what he's doing right now… you’re right, it’s probably nothing. Still though, Yuma has to ask, “Who… are you?”
He pulls himself forward, sitting on the edge of the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees. For a moment he just looks at Yuma in silence. “… You could say a friend. Of sorts anyway,” He answers, sounding slightly withdrawn.
… “Friends?” Did he…?
“Come on Master, are you really going to take this weirdo at his word?” Shinigami asks.
“So, the rumors are true then. You really don’t remember anything, do you?” The man asks, tone going for mild, but just barely missing the mark. He could be talking nonsense, but…
Shinigami pulls back, “He just admitted to only hearing rumors about you. That’s sketchy.”
But that only sinks the rock in his chest. She’s only really this insistent outside of investigations when he is close to knowing something he shouldn’t per their contract.
“Sorry, but no, I don’t.” He can feel Shinigami glare behind him. But he has to know. Even if he can’t ask the other anything about himself and his missing memories, he has to know if there was at least someone who knew him. That he existed to someone before all of this.
The stranger tilts his head, “I see…” He sits up, “In that case, I’m Makoto Kagutsuchi. Nice to meet you.”
Yuma shifts his weight, “H-hi, I’m Yuma Kokohead.” It’s weird to introduce himself to someone who might already know him, but it’d feel weirder not to.
Makoto brings a hand up to mask, “Hmm, Yuma…”
“He totally didn’t recognize your name!” Shinigami shoves at his shoulders, a mocking attempt at shaking him. “Are you going to listen to me now, Master? There’s no way he knows you.”
It is strange, but… I didn’t think it was my name either at first. Yuma bites his lip. Maybe… maybe it’s not.
“Okay, but if it wasn’t then why did Fuzz Head recognize you as Yuma.” Shinigami argues.
Hmm… Well, we never did the see the file for ourselves, there might not have been a picture in there for Yuma, the trainee. Trainees don’t get IDs. The Master Detectives do. So, as long as the others had their ID’s photo in the system; it would be easy for the process of elimination to say I’m Yuma. The only other proof we have is the letter from the WDO. Who’s to say it actually belonged to me.
Shinigami puffs up, “Okay, but then that still doesn’t explain why you have a uniform, which the Neon Blondie confirmed belonged to you. It also doesn’t explain why you’d be at the train station if you weren’t also assigned there. And then where did your letter saying that go if the one you have is not yours.”
… She’s right. There’s not really another explanation. It still doesn’t make much sense, but there’s no proof that anything else is the case other than gut feelings.
“Which could be wrong,” Shinigami points out.
Yeah. Yeah… At least it looks like Makoto was also lost in thought. So, the two hadn’t missed anything.
“Let’s just focus on what’s actually important,” Shinigami starts, “Where are we?”
Ah, right. Good question…
Yuma clears his throat, pulling Makoto out of his thoughts. “Excuse me… where are we right now?”
Makoto snaps to attention, “Hmm? Oh, this is my home.”
“Not helpful.” Not helpful.
It must show on his face though, because Makoto continues, “It’s the highest point in the city, the top floor of Kanai Tower.”
Yuma blinks. It would go a long way to explain the… everything about this place so far. But there’s something else that’s bothering him if that’s the case… “Why am I here?”
Makoto doesn’t look directly at him, lightly saying, “It would appear you got carried away, playing in the river.” His tone is completely off. It’s like not even he believes what he’s saying. “You were lying by the riverbank in tatters. One of my men just happened to find you.” But why put on a performance like that? As far as Makoto should know it’s just the two of them. And as far as Yuma knows, it’s just the three.
“Ohh, I’m telling you Master, he’s sket- chy!” Shinigami insists.
It is strange…
Makoto continues, either unaware or uncaring about Yuma’s internal debate, “So I had you brought here.” Abruptly the strange tone drops, “We couldn’t just let you die.” But before Yuma could say anything Makoto is brushing away the heavy tension from his final line with a, as Yuma is realizing normal for Makoto, strange joke, “You’re here from the lowest point in town to the highest. How does it feel to have traveled between heaven and hell?”
But Yuma doesn’t let it distract him from Makoto’s choice in emphasis, “It doesn’t sound much like you meant ‘we’.”
This gets Makoto to turn back and look at him. “… I suppose the others wouldn’t be too troubled sleeping at night either way.”
“As for you?” Yuma barely waits for Makoto to finish his sentence before asking.
Shinigami sighs, “Master…”
“… I’d be more than slightly perturbed if that’s what you’re asking,” Makoto puts it lightly, knitted fingers resting on the knee of crossed legs.
“Is this really important right now? What about the others?” Shinigami tries instead.
And Yuma… stops. Heart sinking. Right. His memories and anyone who might’ve known him before losing them aren’t what’s important here. He’s alive. He doesn’t know if he can confidently say the others are the same.
Shinigami floats closer to Yuma, “I get that it’s important to you. But we have bigger fish to fry and don’t even know if this masked guy is at all trustworthy. Maybe he did know you. But knowing you doesn’t mean he can’t be trying to manipulate you.”
No… no, you’re right. We have bigger problems to deal with and… and we don’t know Makoto.
Yuma fidgets slightly, “Um, abrupt change in topic, where are the others?” Heartbeat picking up. “Was there anyone else besides me?” Until it’s racing in his chest as he confronts the fact, he really doesn’t know what happened to the other Master Detectives.
Makoto shakes his head, “No. There was no one else there.”
“I see…” Yuma’s heart drops. Not seeing them doesn’t mean there not okay. Not seeing them doesn’t mean there not okay. Makoto not seeing the others by where I was, does not mean they’re not okay.
He feels the urge to cry. There’s no doubt in his mind the Peacekeepers were behind the explosion.
There’s even less doubt knowing that, that it’s his fault it happened. The Chief had gotten by just fine. But Yuma kept butting in to cases and pretending like he’s some great detective. And now…
“Jeez, there you go acting like a tragic heroine,” Shinigami cuts in, “The only people who’d give you sympathy for that schtick are the possessive types drawn to the naive.” She crosses her arms. “Face it. The others were also probably causing their own ruckuses too. Not everything bad that happens is your fault specifically.”
Ah-!
“Whether the others are dead or alive doesn’t matter. You’re alive. You still gotta do something and get to work.” She flips upside down into a floating handstand, “The mysteries of Kanai Ward aren’t going to solve themselves, you know.”
They’re not dead! … but… I do still owe it to them to not give up on the reason why we were sent here in the first place.
She picks herself back up, “Exactly. Now chop! Chop!”
Before he can do anything else though, a quiet bell echoes throughout the penthouse. A doorbell? Who…?
Makoto turns to the door. “Oh?” He straightens in the seat. “We have lots of visitors today.” And then he stands. “You might want to hide for now, Yuma.” The casualness in his posture rapidly deteriorating into a tense line.
Yuma leans back, eyes wide, “Why?” Yuma turns to the door, looking back at Makoto in the corner of his eye. “Who’s at the door?”
Makoto steps towards Yuma. He lets his head drop slightly as he leans forward, just barely outside of Yuma’s personal space, “Trust me. You don’t want to play in the river again, do you?”
Yuma’s eyes flicker across Makoto’s mask, as if it would change and explain what’s going on. But it’s just a mask.
Shinigami tries to tug on Yuma’s arm. “I might not trust this guy, Master, but I think you should listen and hide!” She curls closely to him, eyes locked on the door. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Yuma takes a step back, eyes darting around the room. But where am I supposed to hide!?
He only barely notices Makoto straighten up again as he darts to the center of the room. Head snapping back and forth as he glances between different places to hide. Shinigami rushing ahead to check spots out. The two figure it out at the exact same time.
Yuma’s eyes locking on the kitchen island as Shinigami shouts, “Over here! Over here!” Waving him over.
He practically slides back behind the counter in his rush. Back pressed against the counter, he hears the door open and multiple footsteps stomp across the floor. Yuma chances a glance around the rounded edge of the counter.
That’s-! Yuma nearly slams himself back into cover, only just barely mindful of making sure not to make any noise.
“What is he doing here?!” Shinigami whisper-shouts.
That’s what I want to know… The director of the Peacekeepers, Yomi Hellsmile. There’s no way it’s a coincidence that he’s here. Not after what happened to the agency.
Yuma’s heart thunders in his ears, and he can barely hear what the two are saying. Only that Makoto’s attempt at a light tone is just as tense as he had been moments prior while telling Yuma to hide. And that Yomi is not happy to be here. But Yuma can’t tell if it’s boredom or annoyance, only that it’s a flat, cold tone.
Shinigami presses in close, “The two are definitely familiar with each other.” Relaying the information Yuma is struggling to make out in his panic. Shinigami audibly swallows, “Hellboy just asked if there’s any detectives here.”
She immediately floats in face before he can panic, ghostly hands pressed to his face, “Whoa- whoa! It’s okay! It’s okay. Masky over there is playing coy and denying anything.” The cold of her hands seeps into his face. His frame is still rattling, but it begins to slow. “Whatever he has going on, he isn’t betraying you to Hellboy.”
Yuma cracks open his eyes, he hadn’t realized he shut them. He can hear the others still talking in the background but does his best to just focus on Shinigami in front of him.
She smiles at him. “You’re not going anywhere just yet, Master.”
Yuma tries to quietly take a deep breath. Thank you, Shinigami.
She lets go of his face, “Of course! What would you do without me?” She floats back to his side and the two wait for Yomi to leave.
“I’ll be back. The Peacekeepers are always watching you,” Yomi threatens, before he stomps away.
There is a heavy silence in the air. The front door slams shut. Tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. But Yuma does his best to focus on the cold, ghostly presence of his sole companion next to him.
The moment rests like that for a few seconds, before Makoto calls out, “Yuma, you can come out now.”
Yuma looks over at Shinigami. She nods at him and the two get up from behind the kitchen island.
Makoto remains where he was, still watching the door, shoulder forming a firm line as he stands, back ramrod straight. Yuma glances around the kitchen and dining area. There’s nothing visible on the shelves, though a pan and a lidded skillet sit on the cooktop. The dining table looks like a crescent moon, with three chairs sitting far apart. If Makoto said that he rarely entertained guests, Yuma would believe it in heartbeat. It all looks really impressive, but… It feels like a showroom; not something someone actually lives in.
Yuma still doesn’t understand a single thing about him.
There’s only one more way to try and find out. Yuma walks towards Makoto, who gives up his tense vigil upon approach. “That was the Director of the Peacekeepers, wasn’t it? You know him?” His voice, still slightly shaky from his panic earlier.
Makoto gracefully doesn’t acknowledge it, “I wouldn’t call us friends. But yes, unfortunately better than I’d like to.” Makoto brings a hand up to his mask, elbow propped up by his other arm, “He’s… like a shadow.” His hands drop back to his side, “We all have our inseparable shadows, don’t we?”
“Can I call him suspicious again?” Shinigami asks. “Because that’s definitely sketchy.”
… It is a strange descriptor to use for someone like the head of a group like the Peacekeepers.
“And a weird way to answer the question, ‘do you know this guy?’” Shinigami adds.
Yeah… there’s not very many reasons to answer that way.
Or for it to be an accurate answer.
Shinigami floats in a circle around Yuma, “Wellll. To be fair to Shady here, you could use that descriptor for Hellboy too, Master.”
Yuma bites his lip. You’re not wrong. But I also am considered a highly wanted criminal in Director Hellsmile’s eyes at the very least. So, the question is…
“If Makoto is too,” Shinigami finishes. “It didn’t feel like that was the case with the way they were talking. Buuut, I guess it could just be because of how rich Shady is over here, so he gets away with being on thin ice.” Shinigami huffs, “Just who is this guy anyway!?”
I don’t know, but I can always ask again. Yuma takes a deep breath. “Who are you, exactly?” He can’t really look Makoto in the eyes directly on account of the mask, but he tries his best to be serious about this.
It doesn’t work very well on Makoto. “I’m just a man living at the highest point in town. Do you need to know more than that?” He asks with the slightest tilt of his head.
“Yes,” Yuma answers before he can help himself. He continues to clarify, “That doesn’t tell me anything.”
Makoto laughs, “As honest and straightforward as ever, I see.”
He turns on his heel and starts walking towards the large wall windows. “Who am I… Who am I…” He playfully considers. The tension he held moments ago, all but completely absent. If Yuma hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have ever thought it was there in the first place.
Yuma follows him as he comes to stand in front of the windows, facing out over the city. “… I’m someone who loves this city. More than anyone else.” Makoto takes a single step forward. “And more than anyone, I worry for its future.” Eyes locked on the horizon; Makoto does not look back at Yuma. “Like the cold rain that covers the city, it falls in my heart as well. I am… afraid, maybe. Gloomy, certainly.”
Yuma follows his gaze out to the city. Not even the neon lights make the city feel could make it feel like day. He didn’t really get to experience the sun long in what little memories he has, but still, he finds himself missing it after these couple of months. He can’t imagine how it must be for the people who have lived here for the three years since the unending rain began. These conditions can’t be sustainable in the long term. Not with the city’s isolation on top of it.
“Well, at least we can still get some fresh air, even if it is always wet.” Shinigami adds. He’s more grateful than he knows how to say for her many attempts at being optimistic about this. Especially as the time they had been taking to investigate Kanai Ward’s Ultimate Secret dragged on.
Yeah… there’s almost certainly some people who have been confined to the indoors because of the rain.
The silence hangs in the air between the three, all gazing out on a city, and not a single thought is in complete agreement. Each tied to it by a different thread.
Then Makoto partially turns towards Yuma, “You know, I’m surprised there’s still detectives here.” His neck craning so to look Yuma in the eye, but still not facing towards him entirely, “I thought you all would’ve given up by now and gone home.” He tilts head, eyes pulling away from Yuma and back towards the window, “Or rather, been removed by the Peacekeepers.”
Yuma scratches the back of his neck, “They’re not… very fond of us, no.” Yuma shakes away his memories of his previous encounters with the Peacekeepers away. “I might be trainee, but I won’t back down just because it’s not easy. And the others wouldn’t either.” He doesn’t let any of his prior doubts about investigating Kanai Ward shine through. The distrust that started the second part of their earlier conversation, still sitting in the forefront of Yuma’s thoughts.
“Naturally, this means you’ve come to learn a fair bit about this place.” And Yuma can’t quite tell where Makoto is going with this. Or how it relates to their earlier conversation; if it even does, that is.
Yuma takes a half step back, swaying slightly, “… It would seem so, yes.”
Makoto spins on his heel to face directly towards Yuma, “Then you should know about the trouble Kanai Ward is in. You’ve experienced it yourself after all.” He steps away from the window, “Now, you could say Amaterasu Corporation is responsible,” He comes to a stop in front of Yuma, “And you wouldn’t be wrong. There has been…” Makoto leans back, “A power imbalance within Amaterasu. It’s behind many of the problems you’ve see now.”
… A power imbalance… that’s right. What the other Master Detectives had explained back-
… back on the train. Yuma takes a deep breath to settle himself before asking, “You’re talking about the Peacekeepers, right?”
Makoto abruptly stills. Before seeming to force himself to relax once more, but Yuma can still catch the faintly line of tension in the other’s voice, “… Yes, I am.”
“They imposed strict rules, eliminating anyone who dares disobey,” Makoto continues explaining after a moment. “They created order in the company. And you’ve already figured out what happened after that, it would seem.”
Yuma’s shoulders sink, “That ‘order’ took over Kanai Ward.”
Makoto nods once, “Correct. They call themselves order and enforce their idea of justice upon the people. Both Amaterasu Corporation and Kanai Ward belong to them now.” He raises his hands, “They can overturn laws on a whim; permitting bribes to be exchanged at a rampant pace.”
Like the church’s priest was doing…
Makoto’s hands drop, “This is why the city continues to erode. So much so, that not even the rain can do anything about it.”
“How did it come to this?” Yuma asks. He thought at first, they were like a police force, but… it has been clear to him for a while now that the Peacekeepers are much more than that now.
“As their name suggests, they used to be the company’s security department,” Makoto explains, “They changed and grew into what you know today because there was a need for it. Kanai Ward’s isolation relies on the strength of Amaterasu. Strength and ruthlessness became the MO for the Peacekeepers. Achieved through abusing the supply routes to trade with the military industry.”
Shinigami inhales sharply, “They sound like a dictatorship’s army.”
The only question is who’s the one in charge.
Makoto continues, still unaware of the two’s dialogs, “They convinced themselves they were infallible, unlike everyone else. Leaving them to believe that those with the power should rule.”
“With that, they became the biggest threat to the city,” Yuma finishes.
“And they don’t have any intentions on stopping,” Makoto adds. “Kanai Ward will continue to decay under their rule. That’s why I want to stop the Peacekeepers on this reckless path of theirs.” He brings a hand over his heart, “I do so as a citizen who loves Kanai Ward.”
Shinigami hums, “And so the picture begins to reveal itself.”
Yuma tenses, “That’s where I come in…”
“You and the other detectives,” Makoto clarifies.
“Something about this sounds fishy,” Shinigami says. Yuma has a hard time completely disagreeing with her.
“And how are we supposed to help?” Yuma asks.
“In Kanai Ward,” Makoto gestures to the window, “The only ones that can stand up to the Peacekeepers are outsiders, like yourself. That’s why, in order to save this city, I need your cooperation.” He takes a single step forward, leaning towards Yuma, “Detectives are the only ones that can save this place,” Makoto’s shoulders drop slightly, “That’s what I believe, but what about you?”
Save this city… It’s by all means the same goal Chief Yakou gave them. But… “Why me?” It’s been bothering him this whole conversation. “Why ask me? The others are much better detectives than I am.” Yuma steps towards Makoto, “You knew we were in the city. You could’ve come to the agency or sent someone else in your stead.” He takes another step forward, “Why now?” And another, “Why me?”
Makoto shakes his head, “There was no other chance. You heard Yomi. The Peacekeepers are always watching my movements.”
“No.”
Makoto jerks back, “No?”
“No,” Yuma insists flatly. “If that was the case he wouldn’t have stopped just because you said you didn’t know what he was talking about. He would’ve had the other Peacekeepers search the place. So, no they aren’t always watching your movements.” He begins pacing forward, towards Makoto, “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have made it here if that were the case, because they’ve would’ve known the second you pulled me from the river.” He stops in Makoto’s space, staring him down, “So why are you asking me now?”
“Because it’s you,” Makoto blurts out, shoulders climbing towards his ears. He’s barely even breathing.
Yuma leans back. “You say that like it means something.” Just what is he missing?
“… Because I know you,” Makoto says as he starts relaxing from the intrusion into his space. “Perhaps not his amnesiac version of yourself, but enough.”
And just like that, all of Makoto’s earlier words and actions click. The puzzle pieced back together to form a picture of two. Just who were they to each other… ‘A friend. Of sorts.’ “There was never a we, was there…?” Yuma asks.
“Not one that found you first, at the very least,” Makoto confesses after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s not exactly easy to carry someone when they’re a dead weight,” he teases, voice still strained. The playfulness from when Yuma first woke up, slowly returning after everything.
All the little moments in their conversation add up in Yuma’s heart and before he can get a chance to doubt himself, he darts back into Makoto’s personal space just long enough to leave a small peck on the check of his mask. “I’m sorry I forgot you,” Yuma doesn’t look at Makoto, his face going flush. It’s kind of embarrassing that he didn’t realize it sooner. He might not have many memories, but he can’t imagine many people doing what Makoto did for no reason other than that’s just how they are.
… He must’ve hoping the rumors about Yuma forgetting weren’t true. Yuma swallows the rock in his throat, “… if I remember, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
“Master…” Shinigami sighs.
…
“Umm, I’ll leave now, I guess.” Yuma glances up at Makoto, who’s still as a statue.
Yuma’s heart sinks. “I should go find the other detectives.” Yuma bites his lip, hesitating.
But Makoto still hasn’t moved, and the words die on Yuma’s tongue, bitter of a promise never made. Yuma turns on his heel and heads for the door, he doesn’t look back. And Makoto never calls for him either. Under a weight that would threaten to crush Atlas, Yuma makes his leave, praying he didn’t fuck up the one thing he still had before all this mess.