Chapter Text
Out of the two of them, Kotoko hadn’t expected Mahiru to be the one suggesting something as blatantly illegal as a kidnapping.
She wasn’t about to turn down the offer, though. She’d seen the path of cruelty and cowardice Fuuta was headed down. This latest incident revealed a major turning point, and some sort of action needed to be taken. Mahiru, on the other hand, had interpreted the whole thing as a sign to save him – to shower him in care and attention until the power of love brought about its own natural change.
Whether or not her optimistic theory could actually help him, the plan would certainly stop him from being a danger to others. Two birds, one stone, one clueless redhead.
Fuuta arrived at Mahiru’s apartment after a simple dinner invitation. (Earlier, Kotoko suggested they make their lives easier by lacing the food with something. Mahiru refused to risk compromising her perfect recipe.)
So they waited until after dinner, after some talk, when the clock struck the appointed time. Mahiru knew her neighbor’s schedules, and knew that the surrounding rooms were all empty tonight. She tried to gush about where they were each headed, but Kotoko only cared that there’d be no prying ears. It was a good thing, too, as Mahiru didn’t quite excel at her duty to keep Fuuta quiet.
In her defense, it would have been a terrible idea to bring her hand anywhere close to those snapping, crooked teeth once he started yelling. Kotoko got hold of him from behind, ropes in hand as she tried to wrestle him down. He wasn’t strong enough to overpower her with this type of leverage, but he put up a good fight. The obnoxious yelling wasn’t helping either. She directed Mahiru to grab duct tape from the nearby room.
As soon as she disappeared around the corner, Kotoko had a moment to execute things her own way. With a quick change in positioning followed by a solid strike to the gut, Fuuta was left on his hands and knees, his mouth working as it gasped for air.
It didn’t take long for him to regain his voice, vicious and vulgar-worded threats pouring out as if he were the one sitting on top of the pair, knees digging into the other, and arranging the ropes securely.
When Mahiru returned, Kotoko sat back on her haunches to admire a job well done. No amount of thrashing around under the restraints would get him anywhere. His attempts to evade Mahiru’s hands, delicately holding out the piece of duct tape, were thwarted by a firm hand atop his head that kept him still enough for her.
“This is just until you calm down, Fuuta-kun~” she assured him, stifling his protests into nothing but smothered sounds.
Her voice came out unsettlingly cheery given the circumstances. Although Kotoko found it far more terrifying than it was reassuring, she wasn’t here to doubt Mahiru’s methods. She was here to get the dirty work done.
“You wanted him in the bedroom?” She grabbed a stretch of rope by the back of his neck, hoisting him in that direction.
“Ah, not yet.”
Kotoko dropped him.
“I have to get everything all set up…” Her lips twisted into an earnest frown. “I hope he’ll be comfortable until then.”
Kotoko doubted that would be possible, with how tightly she’d knotted the ropes. She looked down at his eyes, widened in pleading and panic.
“I’m sure he’s just fine.”
“Mmph!”
“See?”
Mahiru hummed to herself. Everything was going perfectly. She’d thanked Kotoko profusely the last time she was over to check on things; she was so grateful to have someone who understood that nothing is impossible if you have the determination for it.
“Good morning, Fuuta-kun,” she sang as she entered the bedroom. She held up a plate of pastries. “It’s breakfast time!”
She placed the dish beside her houseguest, took a seat beside him, and fixed some loose strands of her fair hair.
“Mahiru baked these herself.”
She removed the rag from his mouth (Feeling guilty that the tape may have hurt him, she’d replaced it with something much softer.) No sooner was he freed that he resumed his usual fuming.
“You’re insane, you know that right? This is absolutely insane!” He squirmed against the ropes, another usual and useless endeavor. “It’s been days, Mahiru!”
“These things take time.”
“You can't just keep me here forever like some goddamn pet you have collared up in your room!”
Such a silly notion, she thought, since there wasn’t even anything around his neck to make him uncomfortable. Although…
“Ooh, a choker is a good idea!” She picked up the piece of flower-patterned stationery, where she’d been jotting down ideas for new outfits to get for him.
“I'm not your doll, either!”
“Studies have shown that the way you dress can affect your mind, and your personality. You know, I already explained this to you…” She'd actually read him the article straight out of her favorite fashion magazine. He may have missed the first half on account of his own complaining, but once she found the rag, she was able to communicate everything clearly.
“And Mahiru’s lifestyle makeover has already been going so well.” She counted off on her manicured fingers. “You've been eating nutritious meals, getting time for off-screen hobbies, sticking to a regular sleep schedule –”
“– Because you drug me –!”
“– And now you’ll get to wear clothes that make you feel happy and confident!”
She’d always been inspired by Kotoko’s routines and schedules – she was so impressive, so strong for maintaining such unshakeable self-discipline. It was exciting to offer Fuuta that very same structure for himself with her own discipline helping him to reach it.
“I’m never going to feel happy, locked up in your room like this!”
“Oh, no need to be so pessimistic. Though, you’re always so cute when you get fired up about something, hehe.”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“Now, for my new recipe!”
“Mahiru, come on…”
His gaze darted between her and the little pieces she was cutting up. As soon as she knew he was calmer, once he stopped letting the ropes press into his flesh with all that wild struggling, he could do this all himself. In the meantime, he was lucky she was here to help. She knew not everyone was used to receiving this type of care. Especially for Fuuta, accustomed to his tragically lonely independence before all this, it could be frightening to relinquish any control.
He’d be grateful once he embraced it, she just knew it. It would be a weight off those currently straining shoulders.
Her warm brown eyes caught his frantic hazel ones.
She put the utensils back down with a sigh. Her hands cupped around his cheeks. “I know it's difficult to see now, but I promise, I'll have you fixed up in no time! That's the power of love.”
Kotoko leaned back against the bathroom door. With Mahiru at an early shift at the florist’s, she was more than capable of escorting Fuuta to the shower and back on her own.
After she heard him finish up and change into the new outfit Mahiru had left – something perfectly chosen in its comfort and classiness – there came the sound of careful footsteps approaching the door. She readied herself, but it was just his voice that greeted her from the other side.
“Kotoko, you’ve gotta help me. This is ridiculous.”
She scoffed.
“Please! I thought you hated criminals! Why are you here helping one?”
“I’m keeping one contained, is what I’m doing.”
“You’re still on that crap? I thought you were supposed to be the reasonable one! You already told me that girl was fine. Mahiru is the one holding me prisoner in her home, while I’ve done nothing at all!” His fist pounded on the door.
Kotoko swung it open in return. She grabbed his upper arm and yanked him out of the bathroom with a yelp.
“You think that was nothing? A girl almost died, and you think she was nothing at all?”
He managed to twist himself out of her grasp and shove her backwards. She shouldn’t have let her emotions give him the opening, but at least she blocked his route to the exit.
“That was other people! It wasn’t me!”
He sounded pathetic, denying it with such shrill excuses.
“After everything, you refuse to take responsibility… you’re just as deplorable as I thought. I don’t know why Mahiru insists on treating you so well.”
“Oh no, don’t try those little mind games with me! I’m no idiot. Comparing you two isn’t going to make me grateful for being locked up here. Just drop this good-cop bad-cop act already.”
“This isn’t an act.” Indeed, if it were up to her, he wouldn't be in a plushy girl’s room eating home cooking – he'd be handcuffed to some cold, dark concrete with the dogs.
She took a step closer. “Mahiru really is that good. If you’re going to go begging at anyone’s feet, it should be her.”
“Like hell I’d grovel for her. The first chance I get, I’m tying her to that stupid chair! Let’s see how she likes it when I’m the one who – agck!”
Kotoko’s opening blows were quick and powerful.
Her red eyes burned. No matter how he tried to plead innocence, he was here threatening innocent women with that big mouth of his. The thought of anyone raising a hand to Mahiru’s sunshining smile stirred the fire in her gut.
The stiffness of sitting in the bedroom for the past few days didn’t do Fuuta’s reflexes any favors. Kotoko’s fists connected, drawing blood. Her knee caught him in the side. Though she wasn’t a dirty fighter, she couldn’t resist a few shots to that stupid face of “righteous” fury he was making. The expression was certainly wiped away when she pinned him against the wall with a grunt.
He gasped as she twisted one of his arms backwards, poised to break it. “Oi, just hang on!”
“You won’t lay a finger on her.” She applied some pressure. Then some more. She pushed until he released a cry of pain through grit teeth. Then the pressure eased off, and Kotoko growled in his ear. “And if you do, I’ll show you just what a bad cop I can really be.”
She returned him to the chair, bruised and bloody. She cursed herself for getting a stain on the brand new clothes Mahiru bought. At least she’d washed enough blood out of her own clothes; she could probably have it out before Mahiru made it home. The injuries would prove more difficult to undo, but she cared less. It was only justice that he sat hunched in pain, after all that which he had (and had threatened) to inflict.
“Ready to take responsibility yet?”
“Fuck you.” He wheezed. “You both are nothing but psychotic, delusional –” Another piece of tape shut him up.
Kotoko started to leave. His threat echoed in her mind again, turning her back around. She kicked her boot into the side of the chair, tipping him to the ground with a muffled yell.
Fuuta didn’t bother to struggle against the ropes. He’d gotten some of his strength back in the past few days as his body healed, but Mahiru had popped something into his mouth before replacing the rag. He knew he only had a few minutes before the world slipped away for the night. Trying to escape now would do no good.
The two women stood beside him, conversing casually over his head. He’d lost track of their talk, his head dizzy and vision blurring. Kotoko had one hand on his shoulder, the other checking the ropes at his wrists. Mahiru’s palms rested on his other shoulder, occasionally trailing up to tuck strands of red hair away from his face.
He thought he had the perfect escape plan after Kotoko’s beating. If Mahiru was angry enough at her needless violence, he could’ve stirred up tension between them. If she was worried that he needed proper treatment, he could’ve exploited an opening to the outside world.
In the end, Fuuta shouldn’t have expected anything less from her – she forgave Kotoko within a day, complete with hugs and heartfelt hand clasping. In fact, he noticed Mahiru’s subtle thrill at the situation. His injuries provided her bleeding heart with yet another reason to pity him, to dote on him, to invade his personal space.
So, still no plan for getting out of here.
His head bobbed, the drug fighting to overtake him. The women’s conversation paused.
“Ah, goodnight Fuuta-kun,” Mahiru leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow~”
