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Naomi has never once defined herself as brave. In the moment, under pressure, there are times she can deliver no matter the odds that face her. It doesn’t feel like it counts when it’s done out of necessity. It doesn’t feel like it counts when she turns to look at those who surround her. Her fellow Agency members risk life and limb, almost on the daily. They throw themselves headfirst at those who threaten the fragile peace of their city, not once ceasing until they have been vanquished.
Naomi is just one of their office clerks. In comparison, it’s a severely lacking accolade.
Today, however, she’s flipping that thought on its head. For perhaps the first time, she is the one sticking her neck out. Today, it’s up to her.
After all, it takes a very particular brand of fearlessness to saunter into mafia territory entirely unarmed. It’s more likely that stupidity is the force driving her shaking feet forwards, but Naomi chooses to blot that possibility out.
Right now, the Agency is scattered all across the country - the world, even - and they are too focused on the enemy directly in front of them to have time to worry about the one lurking on the horizon. There is an enemy that is biding its time, rubbing its hands together in glee as it waits for its chance to strike. Dostoyevsky has got them on the defensive, leaving the mafia, and the transfer that must be made to it, in their blind spot.
So, no, Naomi doesn’t see her act as one of astonishing daring. She is just the one left behind, which makes her the one with no choice but to allow her eyes to be drawn to the enemy that waits.
The Port Mafia will claim one of their own, and she refuses to let it be her sibling. It’s not just him that drives her feet forward in spite of the way her heart jackrabbits in her chest; it’s all of them. She can’t imagine Kyouka or Dazai being dragged back into the darkness they so desperately fought to escape, she can’t bear the thought of someone like Atsushi ending up in the claws of such a ruthless organisation, and she can’t even begin to imagine the struggle for Kunikida in being forced to sacrifice his ideals to cheat, and to kill.
Junichiro would gladly do it for her. They’d gladly do it for any of the Agency, just as she is doing now. Naomi has absolutely no doubt that they will volunteer the moment they return. They may even have already.
Junichiro is willing to burn the world for those they love, but she won’t give them that choice. Naomi sees an opportunity before her. She has a chance to save them all, to stop the hurt this could cause, and she can’t help but want to seize it.
She is under no illusion that this will be anything but difficult, and her first hurdle is the snake behind this entire deal. The Boss of the Port Mafia himself engineered this all to gain a member for his organisation, and to throw off those who will be left behind. In one sweep, he will strengthen himself, and weaken his opponents.
Naomi doesn’t even have an ability to her name. Her strength isn’t outstanding, her talents won’t shake the world. She’s just an office clerk.
Regardless, Naomi will have to trick a cruel and calculating man into choosing her over the many better options he has before him. If she takes up a place in the mafia before anyone else even returns, they won’t be able to fight her transfer.
Everything that she has to face after that will all be worth it if she just knows that she spared them from it. They will remain safe and protected, no matter what happens to her, and that’s all that matters.
That’s what Naomi tells herself, anyway.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
The first obstacle in her way, as it turns out, is not the boss himself - it’s even reaching him. The mafia headquarters may be wrapped up as a skyscraper, but it’s akin to an impenetrable fortress. There are guards on every door on every floor, all armed and far more capable than Naomi, and they’re just the grunts. She doesn’t hold a candle to them, yet alone all the executives and those in positions of command.
In the end, it’s luck that gets her to him, which only further cements the stupidity of her actions. She’s lucky that she is recognised as an Agency member, and luckier that she is even allowed a meeting with him. Naomi snatches the luck with both hands, leaping at her chance to put her half-formed idea into action.
Persuade the Boss of the Port Mafia to choose her out of everyone in the Agency, thus saving Junichiro and the others. Then, survive the mafia, somehow. Not her greatest planning, she can admit, yet it’s not long before she’s being dragged into the boss’ office to speak with him regardless. Her hands are cuffed, and she’s absolutely drenched in sweat, but Naomi refuses to allow any of her emotions to show as she lowers herself into the chair opposite Mori.
He looks tireder than Naomi would’ve expected, but his eyes are still calculating. She will have to navigate from here on with extreme precision if she is to succeed, but she refuses to allow the thought to daunt her. She narrows her eyes, and cuts right to the heart of the matter. She won’t even allow him to start the conversation and get a leg up in that way.
“I’ve come to volunteer as the transfer from the Agency to the mafia,” Naomi announces, tone forcibly breezy, as if she isn’t screaming internally.
Mori’s eyes narrow dangerously as he takes her in, but the expression only lasts a second before he’s raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Have you, now?” he says, drawing each syllable of each word out, almost tantalisingly. “Tell me, why would I choose you over an Agency member who can provide me with a valuable ability? Why would I choose you over, say, your sibling?” His pitch lowers dangerously at the end of his words, a clear threat laced through them. She tries not to let it cow her.
“My sibling would never betray his morals in such a way,” Naomi lies, adding on a haughty sniff for emphasis, forcing a display of confidence through her actions. “And I think you know as well as I do that most Agency members wouldn’t be so easily swayed to your cause, even if they were to join you in name.”
Mori leans back in his chair, stroking his chin as if considering her words. “That doesn’t change the fact that most Agency members could provide me with far more talent than you could ever dream of,” he says eventually, smiling with satisfaction as if he’s caught her.
“You have plenty of mafia members without abilities,” Naomi points out, trying to ignore her internal panic that her initial arguments are failing. “Besides, all of your members have to go through training regardless. You’re not saving time by having someone already capable; you’re creating a new obstacle for yourself. You’ll have to make someone with an ability unlearn a lot of what they know. Their ways in which they use what they know won’t match the tasks you need them to fulfil, and it’s a battle for anyone to unlearn anything, let alone when on a rushed schedule to join your organisation.”
“Even if you’re easier to train, that doesn’t benefit me in the long run,” Mori points out. “Why have a weaker addition to my arsenal sooner, when I can just wait for something better to come along?”
“Not only easier to train, but easier to control,” Naomi emphasises. She is fully aware of the sheer idiocy that is putting her fate in the hands of a man like this, a man who won’t hesitate to use her and discard her, but she can’t bring herself to stop when she imagines any other Agency member in her shoes. “Why have an addition to your arsenal that’s not fully in your control, a glorified liability, when you can have someone whose strings you have utter control over pulling?”
With those words, Naomi knows her victory is within reach. The creases in Mori’s face begin to smooth out, but she doesn’t allow herself to celebrate just yet. He leans forwards, studying her face and reactions as he continues to speak.
“Why are you putting yourself on the chopping block?” he asks, tone mild, a pretense of uninterest in this exchange. “You’d never even be considered normally. You have a ticket to get out of this, so why sacrifice yourself?”
Naomi is fully aware that her answer to this question will be what finally prompts Mori to make his decision. It could be the last nail in her coffin, so she allows herself a second to ponder the answer she will give. She won’t lie outright, for she doubts she is good enough to pull the wool over Mori’s eyes, but she needs to bend the truth, to find something convincing enough for him to give her a chance.
Then it hits her: there may be a way for her to make Mori believe he can get more out of this deal than just her. If he believes there may be another Agency member pulled into his orbit by her assimilation into the mafia, then this deal may look even sweeter to him. If he believes he can both destabilise the Agency further, and gain an ability that would be perfect for his organisation, she may just be in with a shot.
“I’m doing it for my sibling,” Naomi answers, “because I know he’d do it for me, too.”
Mori grins. It’s dripping with malice, but she pretends not to see it as he waves a guard over to uncuff her, his charm suddenly turned up to the max. She allows herself to smile and shake his hand, because he has fallen right into her trap.
He believes that by drawing her into the mafia, he will be able to claim her sibling, too, using her to get to him. What he doesn’t know, though, is that by providing her with training, he will be placing the tools to prevent him from ever enacting his plans into her hands. Mori may think he’s won, but Naomi will be transformed into a weapon under his own nose, and she won’t allow him to lay a single finger on Junichiro, or the Agency, ever again.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
Naomi can hardly believe her success, and she doesn’t get even a second to process it. The moment Mori accepts her into the mafia, it’s as if she’s thrust onto a carousel that doesn’t slow or stop, with a whirlwind of new rules and information thrown at her.
Mori promises her that a full tour of the headquarters will be given to her tomorrow. He tells her that her training will begin then, too, without any delay. He informs her that she’ll be put into a squad, and be taught by its leaders. He shows her to one of the apartments available in the building, and she barely gets a chance to breathe all the while.
“Not all of our members live here,” Mori explains as he waves her inside. “But you’re rather new, and I wouldn’t want you getting… tempted away from us.” Mori smiles as he says the words, as if they’re not an incredibly thinly veiled threat. She will be watched, is what he’s essentially saying, and it won’t stop at all until she is deemed trustworthy.
If she’s deemed trustworthy.
Naomi just forces a smile in return and nods, not allowing the relief to show on her face as Mori turns on his heel and strides towards the door. Before she can finally relax, though, he pauses, and turns back to face her.
“Welcome to the mafia,” he says, with a warmth she can only presume is false, before finally retreating out of her new apartment. He leaves her alone, but his words echo through her ears still. To her, they’re a death knell, finally bringing reality crashing down upon her.
When Junichiro returns from facing one foe, they will find that she has allowed herself to succumb to another. Naomi doesn’t have her phone - the guards confiscated it from her long before she was allowed to talk to Mori - and she didn’t even have the foresight to leave them a note. There is no telling when she will next have the opportunity to see them, let alone speak to them.
She doesn’t even know with certainty that she will get that chance.
The thought alone has her sinking to the floor, tears setting off pouring down her cheeks before she can so much as register the despair that is beginning to crush her. Naomi’s gasping breaths are impossibly loud in the silence of the apartment, bouncing off the walls and right back at her.
She’s never lived alone before, and that thought is what sends a cracked sob escaping from her lips. She’s never spent more than a single night away from Junichiro. She is woefully unprepared for both the mundane, the day to day life that will be irreversibly changed without her sibling, and the very organisation she’s signed herself up for.
Naomi has barely ever fought. Kunikida provided her and the other clerks with basic training in self-defense, but she hasn’t cultivated or practised it. Her punches are weak and sloppy, and she’s never wielded a weapon in her life.
The reminder of the clerks sends another wave of pain throughout her. The Agency is just a part-time job, and she’s always just been an office clerk. She organises files and makes phone calls, and gossips with her fellow clerks in all the time in between. The atmosphere in their office is light and bubbly, the air filled with discussion of everything from their tasks for the day, to their crushes, even to the problems they face outside of work. If the conversation turns darker, Naomi can always count that they will have her back and guide her through it, just as she has theirs.
It’s warm, and it’s safe, but the future that awaits her couldn’t be more different. She won’t be in an office, contributing her small part to their city. She could end up detrimenting it through her actions. Everything will be different, and there’s no backing out of the change.
Naomi draws her legs closer to her chest, clutching them tightly, as if doing so will make her small enough that the world itself will melt away, taking the consequences of her actions with it. She squeezes her eyes shut so fiercely they hurt, but it doesn’t banish the thoughts from her brain.
At least it won’t be Junichiro, she tells herself. The Agency is safe from this.
The thought of her sibling just has the tears spilling over faster. No matter how good her intentions are in preventing Mori from reaching him, she essentially offered him up on a silver platter. If she fails to deliver-
Naomi forcibly cuts her train of thought off there, trying to direct her thoughts back to the people she saved. She ensured their life in the light would be preserved. Her sacrifice will mean a better life for all of them.
That truth doesn’t manage to silence the worries bouncing around her skull. It doesn’t even slow them down.
It feels selfish, in a way. They’re safe. No matter how difficult it may be for them to lose her (her heart clenches at the thought of Junichiro living without her just as she is without them, at the thought of the clerks with an empty desk beside them, at the thought of the Agency missing a member), they’ll survive, and they’ll do it together.
She thinks. She hopes.
Naomi sniffs once more, rubbing her eyes as she forces herself to her feet. She makes herself tread further into the apartment to at least look at the new living situation, pausing only when she peers into the bathroom and catches sight of herself in the mirror.
Her school uniform still encases her, and it almost feels like a direct mockery. Yesterday, she was a normal school girl, albeit with a job as an office clerk for a famous (or are they infamous, now?) detective agency on the side. Today, she is a member of a notorious criminal organisation. The difference borders on hysterically funny, or it would, if she were actually laughing.
Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, Naomi turns and continues down the hallway, practically sighing in relief at the sight of a bedroom. She flings open a cupboard in the corner to discover a futon waiting within it, and, after dragging it out, she collapses onto it without a second thought. She doesn’t bother to change her clothes or brush her teeth, instead curling in on herself.
Naomi cries herself to sleep on her first night alone, her new occupation looming ominously over her all the while, like a guillotine waiting to strike.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
An incessant knocking is what yanks Naomi from her slumber. She barely recognises the noise at first, too disoriented both from the sudden jolt into consciousness and the unfamiliar surroundings to register the noise as anything but an annoyance. As she gazes around blearily, brain still struggling to catch up, the knocking begins pausing periodically, before returning once more.
Her eyes widen as memories of the previous day come flooding back. The bittersweet success, which barely feels like a victory at all, and the crushing realisation that followed. As her mind whirs, though, whoever is knocking only increases the ferocity of their hits to her door.
Slumber entirely forgotten, Naomi slowly gets to her feet, and pads over to her new front door. Her heart pounds irrationally as she approaches it, remembering the type of people that lie beyond it, but she shakes herself internally, and flings it open.
Naomi’s eyebrows shoot up at the sight before her. Akutagawa’s younger sibling - Gin, if she’s remembering correctly - is standing on her doorstep, clutching a large bag in one fist. Her heart flutters momentarily at the sight of them, attention caught by the grace with which they carry themself as they glide past her, not saying a word.
“Hello?” Naomi ventures, following them into her living room, brows only furrowing as their silence persists. They raise a single finger to signal her to wait, and they dig into their pocket to retrieve their phone. Naomi’s confusion only increases as they begin to type something out, but it melts away when a voice escapes the phone.
“You will begin training with the Black Lizard today,” Gin tells her through the phone. “With me. I figured you wouldn’t have any clothes or hygiene products, so I brought you some.” At those words, they scoop up the bag, and hand it over to Naomi. She peers inside it to find an assortment of items, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face at the sight of them. She hadn’t even considered the lack of amenities in her possession, but it seems Gin was several steps ahead of her.
“Thank you,” she says, looking up to meet Gin’s eyes. Their own gaze flits away as they wave dismissively, brushing her off.
“Go get changed,” they type out. “Then we’ll begin.”
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
As Gin leads her through the mafia’s headquarters, the absurdity of her situation dawns on Naomi once more. She is in the belly of the beast, yet roaming around freely, entirely without fear. Some of the grunts they pass look taken aback at her presence, but it’s clear they’ve been briefed, for they just continue working. No one is alarmed, and no one is attacking her. She’s not even cuffed; she’s just casually strolling through the heart of the mafia, and no one is batting an eyelid.
As they continue their journey, though, Naomi can’t help but sense an emptiness to the place. It’s still bustling, of course, far busier than the Agency could ever hope to be, but she gets the feeling they’ve suffered losses from the Decay of the Angel, too. The vampirism ability ran rampant through the ranks of the mafia, and despite it seeming as if many are already back on their feet, there is a sort of void.
“Weren’t you turned into a vampire?” Naomi finds herself asking, the words tumbling from her mouth before she can even realise their insensitivity. Gin, however, doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by it.
“Many of us were,” Gin answers, once they’ve retrieved their phone. “The ability must have been stopped, for we have returned to normal.”
Even though she can’t see their face, or even hear their voice, she can tell that the last part of their sentence isn’t the whole truth. They don’t meet her eye as the explanation plays from their phone, instead staring ahead, as if determined not to look at her.
Before Naomi can begin to decipher anything, though, Gin leads her through a door to a room which is clearly where she’ll be training. Various machines line the walls, all designed to increase strength or speed, and the floor is covered with spongy mat. Naomi follows Gin’s lead and removes her shoes, before looking up and belatedly noticing the presence of someone else in the room. Her eyes widen at the sight of the Black Lizard’s leader. Gin begins signing something to him, and he swiftly replies with his own signs, making their conversation unintelligible to Naomi. Hirotsu eventually puts his fingers to rest, and turns to face her.
“Hello. You must be Naomi,” he says warmly, holding out a hand for her to shake. She does so, and waits for him to continue. “I’m sure you’re aware that I’m the Black Lizard’s squad leader, so it’s my job to ensure that you’re ready when you join us in the field. Gin has likely already told you that they will be training you, but I just wanted to greet you personally before you begin. Do you have any questions for me?”
Other than why do I sense a deep well of absence in the mafia , Naomi doesn’t. She shakes her head, and Hirotsu offers her another comforting smile before exiting the room. Naomi allows herself to look after him for a couple of seconds, until the false voice emerging from Gin’s phone recaptures her attention.
“Eventually, I will teach you to use weapons, but first we must nail the basics,” it explains on their behalf. “Starting with footwork, which is one of the most important aspects to physical fights.”
Naomi tries to keep her attention on the lesson, she really does. She listens as Gin explains that her feet are like her body’s anchor, and she must keep them firmly planted at all times, both to allow her to take hits better, and to send them more effectively. She listens, and she copies their movements, taking in their critiques with how she holds herself, but she can’t help the way her mind wanders.
It continues dithering until it lands upon a mafia member she hasn’t seen. A ginger-haired man who holds the same rank as Gin, yet who hasn’t once been encountered by Naomi, nor mentioned by anyone at all. Given the lack of any kind of acknowledgement of someone clearly integral to this group’s workings, the absence she feels could very well belong to him.
Naomi can’t see Gin’s face, but she can see their eyes. She can see the dullness that lies within them, and she can sense the loss that could be causing it. Her heart clenches painfully at the thought that Gin could be thinking of someone else at this very moment, even as they train her, but she tries to shove the irrational pain away.
She barely knows them, after all.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
The moon is shining through a gap in her curtains when the knock comes. For the second time in as many days, Naomi is awoken by it, but it’s not quite the same as before. When she squints at the clock in her room, its numbers declare that it’s the early hours of the morning; nowhere near when training should be beginning.
However, the thing that has the hairs on the back of Naomi’s neck standing to attention is the hush that even the knocking seems to possess. It’s a gentle tapping, loud enough to rouse her, but hesitant, as if trying to avoid detection.
Naomi finds herself once more departing her room and making her way to the door, slowly opening it. She barely reacts at the sight of Gin - really, who else would it be? - yet they hold their fingers up to their lips to entreat her silence regardless as they slip into her apartment.
Naomi doesn’t say a word even when the door is closed, instead turning to Gin, expecting them to grab their phone. Instead, their hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist, tugging her hurriedly, yet gently, back into her room.
She tries not to let the contact distract her. Their hand is strangely cold, yet the weight of it encircling her is comforting, somehow. The fleeting touch is enough to send a flush creeping up onto her cheeks, one she desperately wills it away.
Once they have shut the door behind them, Gin finally pulls out their phone.
“There is going to be a test,” the voice from the phone tells her, entirely detached and emotionless despite the way its words set Naomi’s heart pounding against her ribcage. “Mori is going to test you. I don’t know when, but I know he will, and you have to listen to me.”
Gin’s eyes finally meet Naomi’s, imploring her to heed their words. She has to ignore the way her heart stutters from the connection of their gazes alone, and nod once to confirm she has understood. Gin ploughs on once the action is complete.
“At some point, he will leave you alone with an obvious escape route. Don’t take it, because that’s what he wants. It’s his contingency plan, in case you’re not strong enough, but he may test you regardless to see if you’re truly loyal. If you turn out to be lacking in his eyes, he could try to use your attempted escape as grounds to switch you for another Agency member.”
Naomi’s eyes stretch impossibly wide, but she nods anyway. Gin lets out a breath of air at her confirmation of understanding, relief clearly flooding through them.
“Be careful,” is their final message before they turn on their heel and stride from her room. Naomi is too shocked to call after them, yet alone to process their words and the weight they hold.
She tries not to let the idea of the test pollute her mind, but it’s near impossible. In between training, and in the rare moments she gets to herself at either end of the day, it’s all that dominates her thoughts. It could happen at any time, in any place.
It could happen far sooner than she would ever expect it to.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
Somehow, weeks fly right past her. Naomi finds that the mafia is far less daunting when she’s simply training to join it. She doesn’t - she can’t - let her mind wander to what will happen when she’s on the field. There are actions she will have to commit that terrify her right down to her core, but with Gin, she can forget it.
Training is grueling; long hours of sweat and much higher levels of activity than she was previously involved in wear her out every time. She doesn’t mind, not when she has Gin encouraging her the whole way through, and not when busyness gives her other things to occupy her mind. With the present demanding all her attention, she has no time for the future.
It doesn’t last.
Mori drops into one of her training sessions unannounced, a manufactured smile plastered on his face. In a smooth voice, he offers her a chance to see the Agency and, in that moment, she has no doubt that his test will be woven into the visit.
She agrees - she has to. The prospect of seeing the Agency, even paired with the test that could cut her from the mafia, thus bringing someone else into it, is simply too invaluable to pass up. She agrees, and she swears Gin winces at the decision.
They haven’t yet risked another visit to see her at night, but the moment Mori has left, they find Naomi’s eyes, trying to remind her of the words that were spoken. In the silence brought about by their gazes, Naomi hopes her understanding of the risks she now faces gets across. Gin seems to relax once she has confirmed that her guard is up, and they return to training as if nothing has changed.
It really couldn’t be more different. Now, there is a renewed vigour behind each of Naomi’s moves. The mafia hasn’t held even half the horrors she thought it would, but she won’t deny the relief that fills her entire being at the thought of the visit to come, and the way her heart practically sings. Junichiro, and the Agency, are within her grasp, impossibly close for the first time since her departure.
She can’t help but count down the minutes until she finds herself in a sleek mafia car, Gin at her side and Mori up in the front with the driver, headed straight for the building she misses so desperately. When it finally comes into sight, Naomi swears her face splits apart with the force of her grin. There is a voice inside her brain, one that screams that this is all temporary, that she will be ripped from it before she can so much as blink, but she firmly shoves it aside.
The truth it carries doesn’t matter right now.
The moment the car comes to a halt, Naomi is reaching for the door, but Mori’s voice stops her in her tracks.
“Gin will go inside with you,” he declares, paired with a smile that should be kind, but really just unnerves her. “I’ll wait out here.”
Naomi spares a moment to nod at him, and then doesn’t waste another second. She flings the door open, and, aware of Gin still on her tail, she sprints into the Agency’s building, flinging herself up the stairs.
When she bursts through the door into the office, Junichiro is right there. It’s immediately clear that they’ve been waiting for this moment, and the moment they see her they practically throw themself at her, wrapping their arms around her. In spite of the joy that seems to thrum within her veins, Naomi’s eyes grow wet as she clings to them tightly, soaking in their presence. A part of her wishes she could stare at their face, process that they are really here, right before her, but she settles for squeezing them tight.
“I can’t believe you,” Junichiro sniffs. She suspects the sentence is supposed to sound accusing, but it just comes out weakly. “You didn’t even say anything.”
Naomi opens her mouth to apologise, but she stops when she feels Junichiro tense in her arms. A glance behind her is enough to pinpoint the source of his discomfort: Gin. They are standing awkwardly on the threshold to the Agency office, very much a sore thumb.
“Don’t worry, they won’t do anything,” Naomi tells him softly, pulling away slightly to finally get a look at him. She winces when she notices the bags under his eyes, but doesn’t point them out.
Junichiro nods absently at her words, not commenting further, which provides her with the opportunity to turn her gaze on the rest of the Agency.
Haruno is the next to come barrelling towards her, and Naomi happily allows herself to be encased in her grip. The other clerks and some of the younger detectives pile atop her as well, too relieved to see her to berate her for actions. Naomi senses an itching to lecture from Kunikida, but he chooses to not act on it. Naomi has no doubt the President would like to give her an earful, too, but he also refrains. She deserves it, of course she does, but she is ineffably grateful that her reconnection with the Agency won’t be ruined by reminders of her stupidity.
Naomi is so lost in the reunions, clutching at the people she lost with her choice, that it takes her several seconds to notice Junichiro and Gin.
“You have a brother, don’t you?” Junichiro is saying desperately. “You know what it’s like to have a sibling, so you have to promise me you’ll look after her!”
Naomi pauses, tuning in to their conversation without leaving her spot beside the people she has missed so dearly, trying to get every last second with them she can whilst still keeping an eye on the crisis that very well may unfold.
Junichiro’s face twists in anger as Gin pulls their phone out, but he’s soon silenced by the voice that emerges from it.
“I promise,” the robotic voice tells him. “Just know that I’m not doing it for you - I’m doing it for her.”
A warmth blooms in Naomi’s chest at those words. Gin doesn’t even mention that they already have looked out for her, time and time again. Despite the desire within her to call out to them, Naomi chooses to turn back to the Agency. She can ponder on Gin any time she likes, but this visit is all too fleeting.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
Fleeting isn’t a strong enough word to describe it. Naomi made the best she could of every last millisecond with the Agency. She took extra care to remind herself of all the tiny details of their faces, committing them to her memory once more before losing sight of them for who knows how long. She was able to explain herself to them and, though not a single person agreed with her choice, they could at least understand why she did it. Naomi ironed it all out, she treasured every second, but it still feels lacking.
She knew it couldn’t last from the moment she arrived. She was aware that it would come to an end the entire way through it. Somehow, none of that stopped her heart from feeling as if it had shattered as Gin gently ushered her away from them, from her family, and back into the car.
Naomi is so lost in staring back at the building that thoughts of the test escape her mind entirely. Or, they do until Mori’s phone begins to ring, setting off her internal alarm bells immediately. He never gets calls - they’re always redirected to a secretary first - yet here he is, pursing his lips as he stares at the phone, before turning to the driver.
“I need to take this.” His sentence is short and sharp and, with a beckon to Gin, he clambers out of the car and out of earshot. They make sure to shoot her one final look, their last warning before they are whisked away.
This has to be the test: a now unguarded car, parked right outside the Agency.
Naomi allows herself to catalogue the driver, and it only takes a second to determine she could overpower him. In all likelihood, she wouldn’t even need to. She could certainly run full tilt, and get upstairs before he could reach her. If she did so, her problems would essentially be erased. Back with the Agency, she’d be safe. They’d fight tooth and nail to keep her; it would all be over.
Mori, however, wouldn’t accept that. He’d choose another Agency member without hesitation, claiming her to be traitorous. He could, and probably would, choose Junichiro, so she has no choice but to stay put.
Naomi tries to ignore the pang within her chest when Mori returns, and the window for escape is slammed shut. His eyebrows twitch upwards at the sight of her, but he doesn’t let his surprise show beyond that. He simply directs the car onwards, taking Naomi back to her new reality, and further and further from her home.
⋅───⊱ ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ⊰───⋅
Training continues as always, an endless rotation of the same drills and exercises. Naomi is close to completing it, she can tell, but she still doesn’t allow herself to think about the actions she may have to commit in the field. She may be physically ready for the next step, but she’s still miles away mentally.
She isn’t allowed to see the Agency again (eventually, Mori always promises her when she asks), but she has a note. Scrawled in Ranpo’s awful handwriting, and snuck into her pocket during her visit without even her knowing.
It’s a promise of a rescue, a promise of freedom. It’s a guarantee that a plan is being developed right now to free her from the mafia’s claws. Naomi doesn’t regret saving Junichiro, but she can’t deny that she is holding her breath until the day she can finally leave. This note promises that the day will come sooner rather than later.
Through the relentless exercise and the lonely nights, there isn’t much to love about the mafia. There is just one thing, however, that Naomi thinks she will miss like a missing limb. Or, more accurately, one person she will yearn for.
Gin.
Naomi has begun to pick up sign language, which has made communication with them infinitely easier. She can actually begin to see them through words they speak, and sense emotion behind what they say, rather than their words being delivered in a toneless, robotic voice. She can recognise the way their fingers sharpen with skepticism, or twist themselves into jokes, even if the signs aren’t all familiar to her yet.
Naomi finds herself laughing far more than she ever used to. She hangs on every last sign she sees Gin’s hands form, even when she doesn’t recognise them yet. She finds her heart reaching out towards them, stretching out towards the sparkling grey eyes and light laugh they possess.
They more than keep their promise to Junichiro. They keep Naomi not only safe, but also provide a comfort she doesn’t find anywhere else. They are both the protector they promised to be, and company they were never required to provide.
What means the most to her though, is why they agreed to promise. It wasn’t for Junichiro, however much Naomi may love him, but it was for her. They promised for her, and they continue to do it for her.
Gin begins to slip into Naomi’s apartment almost every night, sleeping on her sofa and ignoring her suggestions that they take it in turns. Despite the almost nightly occurrence of that particular argument, everything else is calm waters between them. They go through their routines of preparing for sleep together, they eat together and, the most striking change to Naomi, Gin begins to remove their mask when they’re alone.
It’s strange how something so small can make such a drastic difference. It’s strange how such a minute detail can have Naomi learning their face all over again, and loving it even more the second time.
The moon is the only witness to their quiet domesticity. Its cool light illuminates the space that has become theirs, and Naomi even finds herself likening the moon to Gin’s eyes. When she looks up at it, she only sees them.
“Thank you,” Naomi tells them one night. They live in silence, occasionally signing, very rarely talking, but the words spill out regardless, breaking their routine with their existence alone. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
Gin turns back to look at her, staring so deeply into her eyes that it’s as if they can see her very soul.
“I promised.” Their voice is barely a whisper, broken and quiet. Nonetheless, it feels like an unknown treasure. It’s something they have chosen to gift to Naomi, something for her to clutch close to her chest as a reminder of the bridge of trust that now stretches between them.
Naomi beams, and Gin smiles at her in return.
Naomi tries to ignore that it won’t last forever. She tries to blot out the thought of the note now tucked underneath her pillow, and the people that are fighting to get her back, the same people who don’t have the resources to take them, too.
She reaches out, and takes Gin’s hand. It’s still abnormally cold, but she grips it as hard as she can regardless. After all, she knows she won’t be able to for long.