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Shiki didn’t usually make house calls. Even at the young age of twenty-six, he was important enough that people came to him, not the other way around. Whether it was an appointment in his office or his car, it was always up to others to meet with him, and typically, at the scheduled time.
So it was just like that brat of an informant Kine had brought in to not only be late to their meeting, but to not even show up at all.
Orihara had been working with the Awakusu-kai for a few months now, and regardless of his youth, inexperience, and questionable loyalty, missing a meeting was a first for him. So Shiki was willing to be lenient, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to scare some obedience, and hopefully some respect, into him. Kine wouldn’t be pleased, but Shiki had no plans to hurt the boy. So his fellow executive would just have to deal with it.
Just like Shiki was dealing with the situation now.
He felt a bit bad, but he was actually looking forward to this little home visit. He couldn’t wait to see how Orihara would explain to his parents why someone who was so clearly a member of the yakuza was visiting their home.
Orihara had a clever tongue and a bewitching, manipulative smile, but even he would have a hard time weaseling out of this one.
There was a chance his parents would even put a stop to his activities after this, which Shiki wouldn’t mind. Sure, he actually did enjoy working with Orihara. The boy was entertaining, he was distractingly beautiful, and he did good, quality work, especially for his young age, but that was exactly the problem.
Someone so young shouldn’t be stepping foot into their world, much less making a name for himself in it.
Especially not someone Shiki wasn’t sure he could trust.
And Orihara being late to an appointment with him had just reaffirmed that.
Shiki straightened his suit before he knocked, putting on what he hoped was a friendly smile so that he wouldn’t scare Orihara’s parents. After all, he needed them to actually open the door.
Except it wasn’t his parents that answered the door; it was Orihara himself.
An Orihara who looked incredibly unkempt. Dark circles filled in the area under his eyes, making the sickly pallor of his skin look even paler. The distracting beauty that Shiki had just been thinking of was gone, replaced by a boy who looked like he was on death’s door, like he hadn’t slept for weeks.
Orihara looked horrible.
And so did the little girl who was clinging to his right hand like it was a lifeline.
“Shiki-san,” Orihara gasped, his eyes widening as he gave a low bow, his mask nowhere in sight for once. That, even more than his unruly appearance, was enough to tell Shiki that something was wrong.
“Orihara,” Shiki began regardless. “We had a meeting.”
Orihara straightened, his skin getting somehow even paler as he took a small step to the side, putting himself between Shiki and the little girl before he bowed again, this time even lower, but not so low that the girl became visible again; Orihara didn’t trust him enough for that.
“You have my sincerest apologies, Shiki-san. I had to leave school early to pick up my sick sister and the meeting slipped my mind entirely. I can assure you that it won't happen again.”
“Your sister is ill?” Shiki asked with a raised brow. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Orihara; he could hear the child sniffling behind him at that very moment, but it was strange that he wouldn’t use his own illness as an excuse. He was obviously sick as well, and why had he, a student, been the one to pick up his sick sister?
“Yes, Shiki-san,” Orihara confirmed, standing from his bow. “But I understand that isn’t an excuse for my absence. For your trouble, I’ll be happy to give you the information you requested at a discounted rate. I have everything I promised, if you’ll just give me a moment to get it.”
Only a discounted rate, not free like most people would have offered in this situation. Because Kine was right, this boy was smart. He’d already shown that he wasn’t reliable today, it wouldn’t be good for him to also look like a pushover.
Especially not when he looked like he could so easily be pushed over.
“I’ll take the information,” Shiki said as he took a step into the house, his chest nearly touching Orihara’s. “Forgive me, but it’s rather cold today. If I’m not intruding, I’d prefer to come inside while you retrieve it for me.”
“Of course,” Orihara said, his smile tight, his usual mask back on, but with cracks. “Please come in. I will make you some tea as well.”
A better person, a less curious person, would have waved the offer off. But it had been a long time since Shiki had considered himself a good person, and he wanted to know what was going on with Orihara.
Needed to know.
“I would appreciate that.”
Shiki gracefully slid off his shoes before he followed Orihara and the sick little girl down the hallway. The hallway whose walls were bizarrely blank. There were no pictures anywhere; none of Orihara, none of his sister, and none of any adults either. The walls were empty and clinical.
More like a showroom than a house.
“Where are your parents?”
“Ah, they’re out right now,” Orihara said, glancing at the clock once they entered the living room. “They both work late.”
“I see,” Shiki said. He didn’t, but he sat down on one of the couches regardless. This, at least, seemed lived on, worn and dented. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch, but at least it felt like people frequently sat on it.
Like people actually lived in this home.
“I’ll just go make that tea and get your folder,” Orihara said. He bowed again before he quickly left the room, shooing the little girl ahead of him, still sniffling as she clutched onto Orihara’s school uniform.
Shiki frowned. It was eight at night, and the boy was still wearing his school uniform.
“Not out,” a soft voice from beside him suddenly said. If Shiki had been less hardened he would have been startled. As it was, he couldn’t believe he’d been snuck up on by a child. He was either far too distracted by Orihara or this new little girl was some kind of future assassin. He would have to keep an eye on her.
He would have to keep a check on himself.
This little girl looked incredibly similar to the other one. In fact, if Shiki hadn’t just watched Orihara push her out of the room, he would have assumed this was the sister that he’d met at the door. Except this little girl looked far healthier than both of her siblings. She was also far less expressive than them, just staring up at Shiki with a blank face, but the same beautiful red eyes as her big brother.
Though, Shiki thought something about Orihara’s were lovelier.
Probably the defiance in them.
Unfortunately.
“What did you say?” Shiki asked, trying to keep his voice gentle. He wasn’t used to speaking with children. He’d been told he didn’t really have the knack for it.
“Our parents,” the girl replied regardless, not seeming perturbed. “Not out.”
“Where are they then?” Shiki asked. He was now keeping his voice soft for another reason. He didn’t want Orihara to return and stop this conversation. He wanted this information; free of charge.
“Don’t live here.” the child shrugged. “Never have.”
“They don’t live here?” Shiki asked, his eyes widening when the girl nodded. “Who takes care of you then?”
“Nii-san.”
“And who takes care of your brother?” Shiki felt a pit growing in his stomach. A pit that only grew bigger when the girl shrugged again.
“No one.”
Shiki frowned, opening his mouth to interrogate her further, when the subject of said interrogation returned to the room.
“I’m sorry for the wait, Shik-Kururi!” Orihara shouted, stumbling as he rushed to put the tea tray down in front of Shiki, and to drag his sister away from him.
Once they were far enough away, Orihara shook the girl, but not harshly. Shiki wondered if that was because he wanted to be gentle with her, or because he didn’t have the energy to shake her any harder.
“Kururi,” Orihara said again, getting down into the little girl’s face this time, which didn’t seem to have the intimidating effect he was going for. Instead, it had the effect of showing Shiki just how pale Orihara truly was. He assumed the boy’s skin tone was usually an exact match to his sister’s, but right now, he was far paler. Only the bags under his eyes were darker.
Much darker.
“I told you to stay upstairs, and you know better than to bother guests,” Orihara said, shoving the girl towards the doorway. “Go sleep in my room.”
“Your room?” Kururi asked as she slowly backed out of the living room, her head tilted like a puppy’s but her face still expressionless. Was that normal child behavior? Or were Orihara’s sisters just as strange as him?
Just as precocious.
“I told you before, you can’t sleep in the same room as Mairu,” Orihara explained tiredly. “Her coughing will keep you up, and you’ll probably catch her cold too. We can’t have two people sick in this house.”
Shiki was certain it was already too late for that, but he didn’t point it out. He just stayed silent as the little girl turned and left the room. With both of his sisters now nowhere to be seen, Orihara wilted with an exhausted sort of relief, only for him to straighten immediately and turn to Shiki in another low bow.
“I’m terribly sorry for all the inconveniences today, Shiki-san,” Orihara said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, pursing his lips like he was holding back the words.
Or more likely, a cough.
“I won’t lie, Orihara, your absence at our meeting was irritating, but your sisters were no inconvenience.” Not to me anyway, Shiki thought, though he then felt uncharitable for it. He had no idea how Orihara felt about his siblings. His siblings that, if the second child was to be believed, he was the sole caregiver for.
A high schooler.
A substitute parent.
An informant.
Why did Orihara want so much on his plate?
Or was it because of his “parental” role, that he chose to add extra things to his life, things that he wanted for himself. Shiki supposed he could understand that, that drive for freedom and independence. That didn’t mean he agreed with it though. With the way things were Orihara might die from overwork before he died from messing around with the yakuza. Maybe Kine had seen that. Maybe that’s why he’d been so insistent that they give the boy a chance.
Regardless, Shiki still didn’t like it.
And he didn’t like whatever was going on in this house either.
“I appreciate you being so considerate and accommodating, Shiki-san,” Orihara said. There was a slight tease at the end, a slight hint of the spirit that Shiki always found to be annoying.
That he always found to be attractive.
Shiki didn’t make a habit of looking at younger men, but Orihara’s attitude had immediately caught his attention. He was self-assured, even in his disrespect. It seemed like arrogance, but arrogance was only arrogance when it couldn’t be backed up. Orihara was calculated in everything he said and everything he did, confident that he could handle anything that came his way.
“Think nothing of it,” Shiki said and meant it. This situation in his home was the first time Shiki had seen Orihara struggle, but that was probably because this wasn’t something the boy should be handling at all. Sure, Shiki felt the same about the work Orihara did for the Awakusu-kai; he was too young to be messing around with the criminal underworld, but Shiki couldn’t deny that Orihara was well suited for it.
He had a knack for finding information. He had a talent for making himself known. Truly, as much as Shiki disagreed with it, Orihara was born to be an informant. He was just starting far too early.
But Orihara wasn’t born for whatever was happening in this house. What teenage boy should be parenting two small children? And the second child, Kururi, had told him their parents had never lived there. So how long had Orihara been responsible for his sisters?
Had he been looking after babies since he was practically a baby himself?
And with no one to take care of him in return?
It was no wonder Orihara had become an informant before even leaving high school, considering he’d become a parent before even starting it.
“I have the information here.” Orihara placed a manilla folder down next to the tea set, gesturing towards it. It was probably multiple pages and color-coded, with important sections highlighted. That was how Orihara always presented his information.
Meticulously.
Unless this illness had impacted the quality of his work as much as it was impacting his health.
“Would you like me to go over my findings, Sh-Shiki-san?” Orihara asked, stifling a cough on the final word, on Shiki’s name.
“Sit,” Shiki ordered, but instead of pointing at the couch across from him, he patted the cushion next to him. Orihara was starting to sway slightly, and blinking more than usual as well. If he sat beside Shiki, he’d be able to catch him if he passed out. He had no other reason for wanting the boy beside him.
No reason at all.
Orihara hesitated for just a moment before he nodded and walked over, sitting next to Shiki with a tension in his body that he was usually better at disguising. Shiki both disliked and enjoyed the sight of it. It was a shame Orihara was sick, but he couldn’t deny it was nice to see him unguarded for once. It was nice to see beneath the layers of perfection.
To see the vulnerability.
Damn, that made him sound like a predator.
But Shiki was a member of the yakuza, he wasn’t a saint. And he wasn’t blind either. Orihara was beautiful, he was intelligent, and he had a bright future. A future that Shiki assumed he’d be seeing a lot of, whether he liked it or not.
But right now, he wanted to focus on the present.
On the sick boy sitting next to him.
Orihara stifled a cough into his shoulder before he leaned forward and picked up the folder. He flipped it open and sure enough, Shiki could see the neat sections, the highlighted areas. It was as organized and neat as usual.
Unlike the boy holding it.
“Now, I looked into the group you directed me towards,” Orihara said, his words coming out stilted as he held in coughs. “It was exactly as you expected, but I found a few additional details I thought you’d be interested in. You can find them on page-” Orihara lost the battle, shutting the folder quickly as he leaned forward and coughed into the corner of his arm.
“Excuse me, Shiki-san, allow me to go get a mask and we can continue,” Orihara offered once he’d gotten himself under control. He held the folder out for Shiki, but he didn’t take it, instead taking Orihara’s arm and holding it, keeping him settled on the couch.
“A mask is unnecessary.” Shiki rarely got sick anyway. “Where are your parents?”
“They’re at work,” Orihara said. His tone was neutral but his watery eyes narrowed with annoyance. “I thought we were working as well.”
“Had you shown up to our meeting three hours ago, we would have been working then,” Shiki said, still not letting go of Orihara’s arm, though he couldn’t help but notice that the boy hadn’t tried to get out of his grip either. “Now, we are having a discussion.”
“I don’t wish to discuss my personal life,” Orihara sniffed, both from the haughtiness of his voice and the clogged state of his nose.
“I don’t care.” Except that was the problem, Shiki cared too much.
“My parents are at work,” Orihara repeated, trying to sound calm, but his voice came out shaky regardless. He was about to say something else when a shout sounded from upstairs.
“Iza-nii!”
Orihara jumped up like he’d been shocked, jolting to his feet so fast that Shiki stood as well, steadying Orihara with a quick and firm hand to the small of his back. Orihara didn’t seem to notice the casual touch, his focus solely on the loud crying that could be heard from the second floor.
“E-excuse me, Shiki-san,” Orihara muttered quickly before he hurried out of the room, down the hall, and over to the staircase. Shiki followed him, happy to see that Orihara was at least using the railing as he pounded up the stairs. Shiki followed him up those as well. He made it to the top just in time to see Orihara disappear into a brightly lit room. He walked towards it slowly, peeking his head in with a caution he usually reserved for stake-outs or meeting with the Awakusu-kai’s leader. But there was no elderly yakuza head in the room.
Just a sick little girl crying on the bathroom floor.
With her equally sick older brother hugging her.
“It’s okay, Mairu, it’s okay,” Orihara said as he tugged the child up into his arms, letting her curl against him as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Throwing up is scary, but it’s okay, everything is okay.”
Was it though?
Orihara slowly rocked the girl until her sobs turned into little hiccups. Once she had calmed, he carried her over to the sink, placing her on the counter before he began to wash her face with a damp cloth. It seemed like a fruitless effort, every bit of drool, snot, and tears he wiped away were replaced just as quickly, but Orihara did it anyway, wiping the cloth gently over Mairu’s face until she finally gave him a tiny, exhausted smile.
Orihara didn’t smile back.
But he did pick her up again, moving past Shiki with shaky steps as he carried the little girl into the room across the hall. Shiki peeked in on that as well, watching silently as Orihara carefully laid his sister into bed and tucked her in.
Watching as he placed a short kiss on her sweaty forehead.
Shiki moved away from the door at that point, suddenly feeling bad for witnessing all of this, for overstepping a boundary. Oriahara had said it while they were on the couch, this was supposed to be about business, and here he was watching his informant comfort and tuck a child into bed.
And look exhausted and sick while he did it.
Shiki thought about going back downstairs and grabbing the folder, about just leaving and giving all of Orihara’s upcoming jobs to other informants; at least then the boy could have a little rest, but Orihara emerged from the bedroom before he could do that.
“You didn’t need to come upstairs,” Orihara said. The words didn’t contain the typical respect Orihara showed him, instead they were just exhausted, just resigned. “I have everything handled.”
Shiki opened his mouth to question that, only for Orihara’s body to do the questioning itself. The boy took a single step towards him before he stumbled. He would have fallen to the floor, he would have laid there for who knows how long, if Shiki hadn’t been there to break his fall.
To catch him.
“I-I’m sorry, Shiki-” Orihara began, only to cough before he could finish the honorific. Shiki didn’t mind. The boy couldn’t help it.
And Shiki couldn’t help the shameful way he enjoyed the sound of his name without the honorific. One moment he was angry at Orihara for being disrespectful, the next he was happy about it.
He really needed to get himself together.
He needed to get Orihara together first.
“Allow me to help you lie down,” Shiki said, gently guiding Orihara. He walked them past a room with Orihara’s name on it, about to head in when he remembered that Orihara had sent his other sister to sleep in there earlier. The room at the end of the hall would have to do instead. “You need rest as well.”
Orihara tried to protest, to fight his hold even, but his endless coughing stopped him from making any progress. Shiki brought them to the furthest door and opened it, only to find a room that no one should ever rest in.
Because it looked like no one ever had.
Not with all the dust in it.
Shiki coughed a few times himself, covering his mouth with his suit jacket’s sleeve as he surveyed the room before him. There were no personal effects in sight, just a large bed with a blanket of dust over it, a blanket that seemed to cover the entire room. No one had slept in this room in years. No one had been home in years.
“Where are your parents?” Shiki asked again as he shut the door, moving Orihara away from it quickly to avoid the dust cloud coming from underneath it.
“They’re working,” Orihara said in defeat. “Overseas.”
With that, Orihara’s legs entirely collapsed underneath him. Shiki had already been holding most of his weight, so it was an easy matter to catch the boy and swing him into his arms, cradling Orihara against his chest.
It was too easy.
Orihara was so light, so insubstantial. Shiki felt like he was holding him just as easily as Orihara had held Mairu just moments ago, maybe easier. Did Orihara even weigh more than his sisters?
He certainly didn’t feel like he did.
“I can walk,” Orihara said weakly, even as laid his head on Shiki’s shoulder, closing his eyes as Shiki began to carry him downstairs.
“You know I don’t appreciate liars, Orihara,” Shiki chastised gently. “And you certainly couldn’t walk just a moment ago.”
“A minor lapse in concentration,” Orihara argued, eyes still shut, head still practically nuzzling against Shiki’s throat. “I’m fine now.”
And to prove how fine he was, Orihara suddenly began to cough again, nearly making Shiki drop him with the intensity of it. He Held him tightly though, keeping a firm grip on the boy as he made it to the bottom of the stairs, down the empty, lifeless hallway, and back into the living room.
Once there, Shiki glanced around for a place to set Orihara down, a place for him to rest. After a moment, he decided on the couch he’d been sitting on earlier. It wasn’t the best place for a sick person, but it was comfortable enough. It would have to do.
Because it was either that, or lay Orihara down in the backseat of his car.
And that would cause questions Shiki didn’t feel like answering.
Besides, there was a good chance Orihara would fight him on that. He was allowing Shiki to hold him now, but that was out of necessity. But to put him into his vehicle while he was vulnerable? Orihara didn’t trust him enough for that.
And he had to be here for his sisters after all, because who else would be?
Gritting his teeth in frustration, Shiki walked over to the couch and balanced on one leg, using his other foot to shove the manilla folder off the couch and onto the floor. He was glad Orihara’s eyes were still closed. He didn’t think the boy would appreciate him disrespecting his work like that.
With the couch now clear, Shiki gently laid Orihara down on it, making sure the boy’s head was propped up on one of the few throw pillows. Orihara’s coughing fit had subsided and he was now peering up at him through narrowed, tired eyes.
He looked suspicious, but Shiki had expected that.
“I’m sorry, Shiki-san, but you still need to pay for today's information, even if you have helped me out.”
Shiki snorted, smiling a small smile that somehow wiped all of the suspicion of Orihara’s face, replacing it with an exhausted sort of shock.
“I’m not expecting anything in return, Orihara. You’re helping your sisters and you’re not expecting anything from them, are you?”
“They’re my sisters, and besides, I’m not usually this nice to them, only when they’re sick,” Orihara explained before he suddenly shivered and broke eye contact. “You’re not usually this nice to me either, Shiki-san.”
“Only when you’re sick, Orihara,” Shiki said. He looked away as well, not wanting to see whether the boy responded to that sentence with more shock or more suspicion. Shiki glanced around the room, hoping to find a blanket of some sort. Orihara had felt warm to the touch, but he was obviously experiencing the chills. Unfortunately, there was no blanket in sight, and Shiki really didn’t want to do more snooping around.
Sighing, he removed his suit jacket, laying it over the boy before he could change his mind, or Orihara could protest. Orihara stared down at the fine, expensive suit covering him and then stared up at Shiki, looking confused.
His confusion was just as justified as his suspicion, and even more depressing. But Shiki was a hardened member of the Yakuza. He knew when to let sadness affect him, and when to take action instead.
Orihara looked too worn out to do either.
Shiki picked up one of the cups of now cooled tea and offered it to the boy, holding it steady as Orihara took a few exhausted sips.
“I truly am sorry to make you do this, Shiki-san,” Orihara said once Shiki pulled the cup away, once he’d laid back down. His voice was stripped of all its usual emotions. There was no confidence, no sneer, no attitude; just the exhaustion of a boy with the world on his shoulders. It was another moment of vulnerability, so Shiki responded with one of his own.
He smiled down at Orihara once again, reaching down to run a hand through Orihara’s hair, feeling the sweat there and the heat of a fever.
“Enough with the apologies. When they’re sincere, they don’t suit you,” Shiki teased softly. “Besides, you aren’t making me do anything. I minded you not showing up to our meeting far more than I mind taking care of you.”
“Oh,” Orihara said, tugging the jacket up to hide part of his face. It was childlike, and it was adorable, and everything about it made Shiki sad. This boy shouldn’t be so happy about a yakuza showing him kindness while he was ill. Other people should be looking after him, but there was no one else.
Just him.
Which was probably why Orihara had ended up being around the yakuza in the first place. And it was why Shiki was going to have to let his distaste for that go.
Orihara wouldn’t be young forever after all.
“I won’t miss a meeting with you again then,” Orihara said. He sounded like he was trying to tease as well, but the suit jacket muffled his words, and his eyes slid shut halfway through the sentence, making it come out sounding only sincere.
“I’d expect nothing less, informant.”
Orihara pulled the jacket up even higher, but not quickly enough for Shiki to miss the smile he was hiding underneath.
It only took a moment more for Orihara’s breathing to even out. Shiki stayed sitting beside him, just watching the boy sleep. He wondered if Orihara would fall asleep with him in the room if he wasn’t so weak from his sickness.
Probably not.
Despite his obvious pleasure at being acknowledged by Shiki, Orihara didn’t trust him enough for that. And Shiki didn’t trust him either. But if Orihara stuck with this career choice there would be plenty of time to build trust between them, to build something between them.
This was just a start.
An early start.
“If you can swallow your pride, if you can be loyal to me, you’ll always have someone, Orihara,” Shiki whispered, running his through the boy’s hair a final time, pushing it away from his forehead.
“Just trust me, just ask, and I will be here.”
Shiki didn’t think Orihara ever would, the boy was too independent, too sure of himself, but that didn’t mean that Shiki wouldn’t be waiting. He meant the promise and he would keep it if Orihara ever needed him again.
He would be there for him, if he needed.
Shiki leaned down and pressed his lips gently against the boy’s forehead, against his informant’s warm skin.