Work Text:
Some days, like today, Higuchi doesn’t want to get out of bed.
She sits up with a sigh and a crack of her back, stretching her arms and clenching her teeth at the constant, dull ache in her shoulders.
She stares at her clock for… she’s not sure how long. The little red numbers began to blur until time became hazy and there’s a chance she fell asleep again. Or, came close to it, at least, in one of those weird and kind of uncomfortable half-asleep, half-awake head spaces.
It takes every bit of strength and will power she has to push herself out into the cold morning air, and once she’s standing, the exhaustion seems to increase tenfold.
Some days, Higuchi doesn’t want to go to work, either.
Now, she loves her job—she does. It’s just… a lot sometimes. And some days, when she thinks about how brilliant her co workers are with or without an ability, she wonders why she even bothers.
What’s the point of trying if she’s never going to succeed, right?
But she makes good money no matter how well she does, and the knowledge that she’s supporting her sister is enough for now.
(and, although it’s hard to remember, she has saved people before—she would do anything for her team, her people, she may not be brilliant, but she’s doing good.
and its infuriating because nothing even happened to make her feel this way, she just woke up with that nagging feeling that she’s terrible)
A light rain falls outside, trickling down her window. The sky is a pretty but tired grey, the kind that makes her want to crawl right back into bed and sleep for another couple hours.
But she doesn’t. She breathes and bucks up because she has a job to do.
The first thing she does is fill a glass of water and down some advil in attempts to soothe her already aching head. Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s her thoughts. But either way, her head is killing her. She makes a mental note to avoid Kajii’s lab today.
Her sister already left for school—their little apartment feels empty without her. She used to wake Higuchi up before she left every morning, but once she started working later, she stopped. Higuchi misses it.
She misses her sister.
(she has to remind herself that everything she does, everything she goes through, it’s all for her sister)
She misses living, though on days like this, she’s not quite sure she’s ever lived.
The walk to work is dreary and wet.
Higuchi’s socks bunch up as she walks, and it takes all of her willpower not to stop and fix them which would result in a Sisyphean distraction.
It’s those little things that weigh down on her already aching shoulders.
When she gets to work, there’s another little thing waiting for her—paperwork. A shit ton of it. Almost all regarding some incident from a couple days ago.
She groans, throwing her coat on an extra chair and plopping down into her office chair. Paperwork isn’t the worst thing in the world, but it is when her head hurts. Staring at all the paper, reading all the little text, the fine print, it’s torture to her eyes.
A mission would’ve been loud, sure, but she’d get to be with her people and do something worthwhile instead of just rotting away uselessly.
After a minute of staring at the papers, hoping they’d miraculously combust, Higuchi takes the plunge and wearily begins.
Time drags on as she flips through paper by paper. It’s a tedious process, but at least it’s easy. Her headache quickly turns into a migraine, and none of the medication she takes helps at all.
Around lunch time, there’s a knock at her door then Tachihara pokes his head through. “Hey, ‘guchi! Gin and I are taking a coffee break—wanna join?”
Higuchi practically jumps to her feet. “God, yes.”
Tachihara laughs as they make their way to the break room. “Rough morning?”
“You could say that.”
Gin is waiting for them with a pot of coffee in their hand. They raise it and an eyebrow, to which Higuchi nods and Tachihara exclaims, “Hell yes!”
Three mugs are already on the counter, and Higuchi watches in anticipation as Gin pours the cups.
Coffee is exactly what she needs right now! Maybe her headache is from a lack of caffeine? Whether it is or isn’t, coffee is sure to help her regain some energy. And, hey, maybe if she’s more energized, she’ll finish work early!
Higuchi gratefully accepts her mug, taking a deep whiff. God—it smells amazing. It smells like happiness.
Maybe she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning—maybe things haven’t been going wrong, she’s just been in a poor mindset.
Nothing truly awful or inconveniencing has occurred, and things are starting to look up.
That is until she spills her coffee—and isn’t that funny? Spilt coffee is what gets to her. Not the fact that she tended to a friend’s gunshot wound a couple days ago, not that her head feels like it’s splitting open every time she breathes, not that she’s not cut out for the only place that’s ever felt like home.
No—coffee.
It spills down her white shirt, not so hot that it burns but hot enough to be uncomfortable. Her shirt sticks to her torso and the stench is overpowering. It’ll cause a stain so she’ll have to throw the shirt out and it’s not a big deal because it’s just a shirt and she’s really well off, but it’s enough for her to fall over the edge and lose her composure.
In an almost out of character fashion, Higuchi chucks the mug at the ground with a frustrated shout. There isn’t any coffee left to spill, but the mug shatters, shards of clay scatter all over.
She kicks the pieces in a corner to clean up later and all but falls into a chair.
Someone is talking to her but she can barely hear it over the realization that she’s throwing a tantrum in front of her best friends, and a wave of humiliation crashes over her.
What kind of mafia command unit leader breaks down to the point of aggression over spilled coffee?
The voices get louder and every little noise feels like a thousand pinpricks, and each one grates her. She rubs her forehead and digs the palm of her hands into her eyes.
After a minute, her head spins a little less and she can finally make out a voice. “Higuchi?” It’s Tachihara, hesitant and careful. “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” she manages to grit out.
“Did something happen?”
And that’s Gin’s voice, kind, considerate Gin who doesn’t like to speak unless their hand is forced. And it’s her hand forcing it. And now she feels even worse. Usually, their voice is relaxing, it’s a sign of trust; it’s almost intimate.
It does nothing but fill her with immense guilt right now, though.
When Higuchi doesn’t answer, Tachihara rephrases. “Okay, something definitely happened. Do you mind telling us what?”
He yelps and hisses Gin’s name after that, and, even in her pathetic state, Higuchi still has it in her to snort at, what she presumes, is Tachihara’s response to an elbow to the gut.
“Everything. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I can barely lead you guys. I never see my sister…” A sob crawls up her throat, choking her, but it doesn’t come out. She grabs her bangs and starts pulling because she doesn’t understand where any of this came from and it’s frustrating and it hurts.
And now that she’s already let herself go, Higuchi doesn’t see the need for pride. She grips her hair even tighter and lets tears slip down her cheeks. They’re silent, but they sting.
“Woah, hey, ‘Guchi! Um, can you let go of your hair?” Tachihara says.
She shakes her head. At least she feels something other than mortification when she has something to yank.
It hurts, and that’s good—it makes her more human.
The world seems to mute as she pulls and yanks and her chest heaves. She leans into the pain, embraces it, even.
And then a voice—light and gentle—breaks through the barrier: “Breathe with me, Higuchi.”
It’s nice, calming, and, like a sailor falling prey to a siren’s call, Higuchi finds herself wanting to listen.
She lets go of her hair and reaches towards the voice. They grab her hand and gently press it against their stomach.
“Breathe with me,” they repeat, so Higuchi does.
Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Higuchi repeats the pattern until her breaths even out, and suddenly everything is clearer.
“Are you back with me?”
“Hirotsu-san?” Higuchi cracks her eyes open to find Hirotsu squatting beside her. She’s quick to scramble to get to her feet and offer him the chair, but he shakes his head and taps her thigh, so she sits back down.
He chuckles softly. “You don’t have to use honorifics right now. I just want to talk. Tachihara and Gin said they were concerned about you.”
Red, hot shame travels through her body. It’s one thing to break down in front of her peers, but to do it in front of the man she considers a father figure? A mentor? She could brush aside her embarrassment in the midst of it, but it’s harder to swallow in the aftermath.
Higuchi quickly swipes at her face, noting that Tachihara and Gin are both gone and the shards of clay have been taken care of. She schools her expression into one she hopes is less pathetic. Then she sits up straighter and takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I just haven’t had a good day. I know that’s not an excuse, but I won’t let this affect my work anymore!”
Hirotsu sighs deeply, his brows furrowing. “That’s not what this is about,” he replies. “This kind of reaction over something mundane isn’t normal for you. Is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing important.”
“It is if it upsets you,” Hirotsu disagrees. “I’ve heard a lot in my day. I used to babysit Dazai-kun and Chuuya-kun. I promise I’ve heard stupider.”
That gets a laugh out of Higuchi. “I just… need a minute.”
“Of course.”
Hirotsu leans back against the table leg and closes his eyes—the epitome of patience.
Higuchi takes a few more deep breaths, steady and solid, and collects her thoughts. So many of them swarm in her head, pounding her skull, confusing the shit out of her. It’s so much, but, once she’s more relaxed, she finds one that’s at the crux of everything.
“I just… sometimes, I don’t think I’m cut out for all this,” Higuchi admits, gesturing vaguely at the spacious break room. “I can be cold-hearted and I’m willing to hurt people to protect my people, but, sometimes, I feel like a sheep in wolf’s clothing. I’m too soft, too emotional.”
She laughs dejectedly. “I broke a mug because I spilled coffee. It wasn’t even my mug, I don’t know whose it is! Shit, I need to find out so I can replace it.” She runs a hand through her sweaty bangs, pushing them behind her ear.
It’s kind of funny after the fact. Still deeply upsetting, but humorous that this is what spilled coffee led to, and now one of her biggest concerns is buying someone a new mug.
“Higuchi, I’ve worked with a lot of people throughout the years,” Hirotsu says, opening his eyes. “Many of them were unprofessional, some insufferable, some just generally hard to work with. You, though, are none of those things. You’re capable and a good leader.”
She wants to protest, wants to disagree because it’s so damn hard to believe, but Hirotsu doesn’t just say things. He doesn’t waste time or breath on nonsense or something he doesn’t believe. So he must mean it.
That makes it a little easier to believe.
“You wouldn’t have gotten this far if you weren’t deemed capable. If people didn’t like you or think you could lead, they wouldn’t follow. That’s just how it is in the mafia. If you weren’t cut out for this, money be damned, you would’ve quit years ago. I’ve seen people come and go over the years, but, unlike them, you’ve managed to stick it out.”
Well, that’s true. She hasn’t been here that long, but she’s seen her fair share of people who couldn’t handle the strain of the job.
Sometimes Higuchi wonders why she doesn’t quit. She could say it’s for the money, but Hirotsu is right—if she truly hated the job, the money wouldn’t be worth it. She loves the people a lot, in fact, she thinks of Tachihara and Gin and Kajii and everyone more as friends than co-workers sometimes.
And she does love the thrill of shooting her gun. She loves the recoil and the satisfaction of hitting her target. It requires precision and care and she’s good at it.
She’s good at it.
Higuchi swallows and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Life, probably,” Hirotsu says, pushing himself to his feet. “It happens to the best of us. And, I think your immediate reaction being violence is on par with everyone else around here. Don’t underestimate yourself just because you aren’t as blood-thirsty or ruthless as they are. We may be criminals of sorts, but we aren’t villains who kill for the fun of it. We’re only human, you know.”
Human.
There it is again, the part of herself she’s misplaced.
“It’s easy to lose yourself with a job like ours. I suggest, when the long days start to get to you, that you try to find something good amongst the worst of us—amongst the blood and death and annoyingly tedious paperwork. I’d love to say that’s how I’ve lasted all these years, and that’s a part of it, I think. But I also drifted into a numbness I thnk you’re capable of overcoming. Can you try that?”
Higuchi nods. “Yeah, I think so. I want to.”
Hirotsu offers her a smile. “Good. Now, do you want to take the day off or stay here?”
Normally, she’d be quick to refuse the opportunity to go home, but she considers it today. It would be nice to go lie down or read a good book or even take a bath. But since her sister is at school, her apartment will be empty and, despite having a migraine, overwhelmingly silent. The prospect of sitting in nothingness is daunting, but so is mindlessly doing paperwork alone in her office.
“I don’t want to go home,” she decides, “but I don’t want to be alone, either.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you took a nap in my office. But, if you’d prefer, I know Gin and Tachihara are quite worried about you. I’m sure they’d be more than happy if you hung out with them.”
Oh, she didn’t mean to worry anyone, though—oof, yeah, if she saw either of them abuse their hair like that out of nowhere, she’d be pretty worried, too.
She must’ve made some kind of face because Hirotsu sighs. “No one is upset with you, they just care about you. Don’t choose for them, choose for yourself.”
“I think… a nap sounds good,” she says slowly. “But I also want to check in with Tachihara and Gin. I know I don’t need to, but I want to.”
Hirotsu nods. “Of course. They’re probably lurking around the corner, why don’t you go talk to them and I’ll set the futon up in my office.”
On his way out, he turns back to glance at her. “For the record, I, too, would break down if I lost an entire cup of coffee,” Hirotsu adds. “Nothing is better than a damn good cup of coffee except, perhaps, a smoke.”
And with that, he leaves.
Higuchi stands, bracing herself against the table. She still feels exhausted and sore and upset, but it’s a lot less than before. It’s manageable now. Her chest is warmer—Hirotsu has a calming presence about him. That’s what drew her to him initially. He’s cold-hearted and brutal, but once he cares about someone, he’ll do all he can for them. Maybe that’s why she sees him as a work dad.
True to Hirotsu’s word, Tachihara and Gin are rounding the corner at the same time Higuchi is. She hugs them, assures them that she’s okay, and promises to have lunch with them on a day she’s feeling better. Not that they ask about any of that, one hesitant look from them is all Higuchi needs to read their thoughts.
She spends the rest of the day in Hirotsu’s office, sleeping on and off on his futon. Most of that time, she’s just lying down with her eyes closed, but listening to him type away at his computer or scribble on paper is comforting.
It’s still dreary and muggy when she leaves to go home, and she still doesn’t feel her best, but she thinks about what Hirotsu said about finding something good, and she looks up at the sky.
The clouds are dark and she blinks small water droplets away. It’s chilly and windy and yet, when she takes the time to really look, the grey sky is prettier than she thought it was.