Work Text:
The work at the agency could not be further from the work they did at the casino. It was a constant battle between their anxiety and nausea at the cost of their sanity. Between memorizing every visitors’, employees', and partners’ files, and operating the finances and scheduling, Sigma was used to suffocating under pressure regularly.
“Kyouka, it’s important that you use the right amount of glitter on your page. Here, let me show you.”
“Yes, Ranpo,” Kyouka answers diligently.
If the opposite of suffocation is breathing freely, Sigma feels anything but free now. Without the endless work, Sigma is restless. They throw themselves into case study after case study, desperate to understand Yokohama or the Yokohama they never got to know. Then in the time in between that, they grapple with the fact that their existence was a tool.
They were only here as a pawn for a larger game and now–
They’re still here.
It doesn’t feel like the relief it should. Time is boundless these days. Even though there is always work to do at the agency after the Death of the Angels, yet it’s temporary at best. Maybe if Sigma doesn’t take a breath, they won’t feel the gaping hole in their chest.
They tap their foot against their office chair. One of the wheels has snapped off and Sigma wobbles with every movement of their seat. They finished a case report for a robbery and it’s barely after their lunch break and Sigma’s file tray is empty. Despite their extensive resume, the agency’s “policy” is to give simpler processing tasks to let the new employee adjust. Sigma thinks it’s just the members being cautious around them. Not that it matters, the majority of the agency is crowded around Kyouka’s desk.
Except Kunikida.
He’s got a tall stack of papers next to him, furiously typing then hand writing notes then typing again. Sigma sighs, leaning back into his unstable prison. Their fingers type a few letters absentmindedly before deleting them again, their trigger finger itches for a new target. Anything new to occupy their mind before they start to wander into their own maze of introspection.
“That’s a horrible picture of me, Kenji. Are you sure you want that one?” Yosano complains.
You could hear the bright smile in Kenji’s voice. “I think you look very nice, Yosano. You look happy here.” Sigma doesn’t ever think they’ve smiled genuinely at work like that. Kyouka must say something too because Yosano laughs, sounding just as happy.
“Alright, you two. You got me. I do look happy in that picture,” she beams and ruffles Kenji’s hat down onto his head.
Looking at them, Sigma wants. Their heart scratches and rattles at their ribs, reaching out at the scene in front of them. Green like a bruise, Sigma presses into the ache at every hour of the day, hoping that a life worth living could be theirs. It’s claustrophobic how the mundane life of the agency surrounds them. Isn’t this what they wanted?
They want a piece of the light here. Can they slice a piece of sunlight for Sigma to share? It’s intangible and burns their eyes to look at, but Sigma fights to turn towards the white light anyway. The office chair squeaks when Sigma stands to move to the edge of the group. Glitter, paint, stickers, and stacks upon stacks of photos are spread out onto the desk. Kenji and Kyouka crouch over a book in the middle of the mess. It looks like a scrapbook.
Kyouka is folding little origami butterflies while Kenji cuts out a frame for the photo of Yosano. Sigma leans in for a closer look and she does look happy.
She’s younger for sure, maybe eighteen years old. The picture is outside on a rooftop, maybe the agency’s own roof. Yosano isn’t looking at the camera, just closing her eyes with her face towards the afternoon sun with a book settled in her lap. She looks at peace. There’s a hand in the foreground making a peace sign.
“Obviously, you’re happy. Can’t you see who you’re with in the picture?” Ranpo asks.
Yosano elbows him. “No, but I can definitely hear him! You’re being so boring reading a book. Let’s go get candy!” she laughs through her imitation of Ranpo, barely getting the sentences out.
“I do not sound like that!” Ranpo pokes her back. Kenji and Tanizaki laugh at their antics while Atsushi and Kyouka watch with mirth in their eyes.
“I never said it was you,” Yosano smirks and crosses her arms over her chest.
“You’re horrible,” Ranpo frowns.
Their bickering is interrupted by Kenji’s presentation. “Look, I think this page is done!” He holds out the book for everyone to see and it’s covered in purple and gold for Yosano. There’s more pictures of her smiling or working. The one in the middle is framed with sparkly lilac origami; Yosano is in the middle of Ranpo and Kunikida, all their cheeks pressed together and flushed with pink champagne. In between the pictures, notes caption the memories with Yosano’s loopy handwriting.
Sigma can’t help but ask. “What’s this for?”
Kyouka spins around in her office chair. Her feet don’t even touch the ground. "It's a scrapbook of the agency. For one year after the airport,” she explains.
The airport.
Sigma pushes the guilt and anguish down. They smile, “That’s nice. I like the origami you did for Yosano’s page.” Kyouka smiles and traces the edges of the closest butterfly with her finger.
“Oh, do you have any pictures, Sigma?! We have to add some of you too!” Kenji straightens up at the idea and his smile is always blinding.
The question wraps around his throat like a noose against their pulse. It ricochets back into their ears, silencing the room around Sigma. Is there any evidence of their existence? Thinking back to the last three years of their life, Sigma doesn’t know what was real and what was written. Everyday bleeds together into that damn schedule they still have memorized. The only picture they should have is their mugshot.
Sigma swallows his weakened breath, “I- no, I don’t think I had a camera so no pictures from me. That’s okay though, Kenji. You focus on your friends and it’ll be a great scrapbook.” They don’t notice the looks Yosano, Ranpo, and Dazai share next to them.
Kyouka pipes up. She’s a clever girl. “I didn’t have photos either. I was trained to kill in the mafia, not take pictures.” She holds up a metallic blue camera, tiny stickers of sprinkles dot the outside, and hands it to Sigma. “I started with flowers. They’re pretty.” And that explains nothing. At Sigma’s blank face, she continues, “Kunikida says practicing helps. It creates a routine.” Kyouka pushes the camera firmly into Sigma’s hands.
“What- Kyouka, I can’t take your camera! This is yours,” Sigma insists.
“Don’t worry it’s not mine,” she elaborates plainly, which doesn’t help at all. Sigma’s eyes go wide as they look around the group in panic. Dazai and Ranpo are laughing.
“It’s Kunikida’s camera,” Atsushi supplies thankfully. He turns from his own paper cutting to Kyouka. “People are going to think you stole it.”
“I said it wasn’t mine.”
Everyone laughs again.
Sigma feels so lost like they’re back at their the casino, clutching onto the building desperately. Falling was easy, but waiting for the impact carves a pit into his stomach. This is the closest they’ll get, just hovering the edge of living. Sigma laughs along with them and waves the camera. “I’m going to put this in my locker. Thank you Kyouka!”
They leave the room in a rush, gripping the camera close to their chest. Photography. Sigma doesn't have any hobbies, unless someone counted work as a hobby, their life is pretty empty. What would they even take pictures of? Sigma rotates the camera in their hands, the buttons worn from use. Capturing memories is the only thing they're good at so surely Sigma can't fail at something so simple as taking pictures. They place it in their locker and hope that Kunikida will have a case file for Sigma when they get back.
The hallways of the agency are simple with two conference rooms, the President's office, and a storage room. There's not much on this floor, but Sigma stops at the flickering light above the storage room.
Sigma glares at the door. White and unimposing, it stares back at Sigma and invites them in.
There's an air of dust and age seeping out of the walls of binders in here. The metal shelves here probably hold more information than the local library. Sigma would know. They wrote them. After the events of the airport, Sigma woke up with a job. They were instructed, interrogated, and tortured for the record every memory of Fyodor Dostoevsky from start to finish. Different parties had their different methods, but each day was the same. They wanted everything: any political involvement, future plans, past plans, present plans, significant figures, family, allergies, inspirations— the list went on. Sigma spent countless days talking until their voice ran out and then typing when they couldn't speak. They wondered if one day they could forget. (Never.)
All the files are condensed and organized in their humble little storage closet. The survival of all of humanity relies on their ability. Their life's purpose is either in this shitty closet or destroyed with the rest of the Sky Casino. Their life outside their ability is as useful as the dust here. Among these files are Kyouka's and Kenji's. Two children. At age 15, their two files are far longer than any typical criminal with three binders worth of records between them.
Sigma's personal files are a measly two pages.
Their hands shake at their side as Sigma starts to lose their breath, staring at the rows and rows of binders. At the first place to not exploit their ability, they give them a home. Their first set of keys are a treasure and Sigma has nothing to offer the agency. Even grateful for the job, Sigma feels nothing, every memory flattens them out to dust.
It's pathetic. A tightness crawls up his throat and their eyes start to water, but there's no tears for Sigma to cry. In and out, their lungs heave for the missed holidays, graduations, and birthdays that Sigma will never have. The numbness that shields Sigma's heart has finally broken, shattering and stabbing into what's left of them. Feeling rushes into their chest and Sigma wants to be blind to the sensation again, burning from the inside out. Their vision blurs, too focused on every little page in these files in front of them. What good is a camera for a shadow of a person? There's no difference between life or death for them, but Sigma grasps for life anyway like those clouds on that fateful sundown with Atsushi.
It's all over and Sigma has nowhere to go.
These records are all they know.
Is that what home is?
Something to fall back on. Something that's always there. Something that will not leave you.
"Sigma, what are you doing in the storage closet?"
Sigma's eyes widen as they take a deep breath and spin around. Slowly. Kunikida has the door cracked open and he's staring. "I'm reviewing a past case," Sigma explains, trying to school their breathing.
"I see." Kunikida slides in and starts scanning the shelves for a binder. The door clicks shut behind him, enclosing both of them in a sea of organized files and nightmares. Sigma's arms are still stiff at their sides as they shift their weight. Sigma counts the binders then counts them again. Next to him, Kunikida eyes Sigma cautiously. "Are you sure everything's okay?"
"Don't worry about it, Kunikida. It was a simple date check, that's all. I'll be getting back to my desk to change that now." Sigma gives their best professional smiles and sneaks past Kunikida.
Or tries to. Kunikida stays put in front of the door. "I'm not so sure. There's no reason for you to review any past files. There are no current patterns within our caseload to refer back to these files."
"I wanted to be thorough." Sigma says flatly. They step towards the door, ignoring the way their chest tightens at moving and how their fingers twitch at their sides.
"That's very admirable," Kunikida compliments, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Thank you," Sigma responds. The files stare back at Sigma and they don't want to be looked at anymore. They shift in front of Kunikida, trying to slide past him back to the temporary safety of the flickering lights of the hallway. "Excuse me." The agency may slack off too often, but each member is no ordinary civilian. Aside from their abilities, they each have their own special quality. For example, everyone seems to be persistently observant.
It's annoying.
"I don't believe you." Kunikida sidesteps in front of the door, blocking it off.
"What?" Sigma laughs, broken in disbelief.
He crosses his arms and Sigma feels the frustration bubble up his throat. They tamp it down for their reputations sake and stab their nails deeper into their palm. Kunikida clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Do you think I actually believe that bullshit? What's going on here, Sigma? This isn't like you." His eyes get softer at the end and Sigma wants to gouge their own out.
Sigma feels the same. "I guess you didn't know me," they spit. "Please move out of the way. I need to get back to work now." Kunikida's eyebrows furrow, then in one quick movement, he locks the door behind him and snaps off the locking mechanism. It's immediate how fast Sigma's breath knocks back into them like hail, it pounds into his lungs. Why do they have a lock on the inside of this storage closet? They gasp, "What the fuck are you doing?!" Sigma pushes past Kunikida to jiggle the doorknob, slam their body against the door, scream for help, anything.
There's no way out. The door doesn't move for Sigma. And no one comes for them.
Raising their arms up, Kunikida is exasperated with Sigma. "What am I doing? What the hell are you doing in here? This isn't like you," he repeats.
No one comes for them.
Sigma slams their fist into the door. The ache in Sigma's chest breaks free and courses through their whole body, making their blood scream out for air. They turn towards Kunikida and ask, "Who the hell am I then, Kunikida? Can you tell me?" When Kunikida doesn't answer, Sigma stomps over to the other side of the closet and pulls out the first binder, shaking it in the dusty air. "I can tell you." They throw the binder to the ground, the contents spill out and Sigma can see the memories play again like having them wasn't haunting enough. Sigma grabs another and another.
Kunikida doesn't say anything.
Hot tears finally stream down Sigma's face as they laugh hysterically. They take another binder on the floor and Sigma tugs their hair over their burning eyes. "I don't have any of my own memories. My memories? These are my memories!" They wave the binder around with one hand before it joins the graveyard on the floor. "You ask me who am I, but I don't have an answer for you. For all I know, I'm no one."
Kicking the binders to the side, Kunikida stands in front of Sigma and extends his palm. "Punch my hand," he asks like it's passing a stapler.
"W-what?" Sigma rubs their cheeks, smearing tears deeper into their dry cracking skin. "I told you my grievances, yelled at you, destroyed agency property, and you want me to hit you?" All the anger and blame has sunk into Sigma's feet; they're exhausted.
"Yes, do it." Kunikida's tone doesn't ask for any doubt.
Sigma weakly goes to smack Kunikida's hand because no one in the agency can communicate normally, including themselves. Kunikida catches Sigma's fist and holds it. His voice doesn't waver or hesitate when he says, "Observe. You're real. I can touch, feel, and talk to you so I know you're real. You hold your own opinions and memories, Sigma."
"I-" Sigma barely gets a word out, but Kunikida keeps going. He doesn't let go of Sigma's hand
"What did you have for dinner?"
Sigma blinks at him. "We had our company dinner at the dumpling restaurant down the street."
"Was Fyodor there?"
"Excuse me?!" Sigma chokes on nothing, but the lump in his throat doesn't move and neither does Kunikida. This man could never be predictable. The broken lock on the door stares back at Sigma and they dread being stuck in a closet with a man whose values hold Sigma too tightly. "He's dead," they say. Sigma can't answer yes or no.
The expression of Kunikida's face is too serious and he asks, "Did you order anything based off of your knowledge of his dietary preferences? Any allergies or his personal favorites foods?"
"No, what the hell are you saying, Kunikida?" Sigma rubs their incoming headache with their free hand. The hundreds of cafe visits and thousands of meals Fyodor had run through Sigma's mind and they didn't get to taste any of it, living a life that would never be their own all over again.
Kunikida squeezes Sigma's hand and the warmth is so jarringly comforting that the rest of Sigma's body tenses up. "I'm saying you're your own person already now. Stop waiting for the day you'll forget your ability and live without him." The only light Sigma thought they would see was that sunset glow a year ago, but now Kunikida's smile in this creepy flickering ceiling light is a close second.
"It's not that easy," Sigma counters.
"Is anything?" Kunikida sighs with a smile.
When the doorknob starts to rattle and click, Kunikida and Sigma jump to look, Kunikida finally lets go of Sigma's fist. They bring it close to their side, holding their own hand close to them like before. The door is shoved open to a laughing Ranpo spinning a key-chain.
"Right on cue! I thought you guys would never stop talking," Ranpo points out, dragging out the vowels. He bends over sidewalks and lets out a low whistle at the floor. "Wow, Sigma you really made a mess down here, but don't worry we'll make Atsushi clean it up!"
Sigma flushes in shame. The clarity of the scene in front of them is crystal clear now with their head clear. They feel like a toddler, stomping around to throw binders and papers on the ground. What a professional they are. The agency is gracious enough to take them in and all Sigma does is continue to destroy lives. "I am so so sorry! Please, allow me to clean up for my own—"
Ranpo lifts up and a hand. "Nope!" He points at Sigma. "You are sleep deprived with a headache." With the adrenaline of screaming worn off, the pain really has crept up and erupted behind their eyes. Sigma squints at the bright lights, grumbling at Ranpo like he was the one who gave the headache to Sigma. They felt fine a moment ago. Ranpo doesn't care about Sigma's state right now and points to Kunikida now. "And you overdid it with your hands. Let go, pretty hair and glasses. Next time, buy me a hot chocolate." Ranpo rolls his eyes with too much flare and leads them out of the hallway. There's no real reason for Sigma to be following Ranpo now, but Kunikida's words keep looping in their mind, slowly cementing their way into their gut.
"How did you know what was going on?" Sigma asks.
Groaning, Ranpo waves Sigma off. "Sigma, you're a member of the Armed Detective Agency. Use those skills to figure it out yourself." Sigma doesn't ask any more questions. They thought the agency held them in contempt for them being at the agency and were only doing it out of obligation, but the truth seems foggy now to Sigma.
Ranpo shoves them into the infirmary and as he skips away, Sigma can hear him yell for Atsushi. Sigma will have to buy the whole agency hot chocolates. They're so embarrassed and keep their eyes to the floor.
They had expected to be brought into the President's office to be fired not pushed into the infirmary. Sigma has worked with worse migraines and less sleep, wordlessly deciding to go back to work. They comb their fingers through their hair and wipe their cheeks and chin of any leftover tears to start their day over again. Kunikida seems on the same page as them, flexing their hands over and over.
Sigma still notices a slight tremble though.
Before they can leave the room, Yosano bumps into both of them. “Well, well, I have a joke for you two,” Yosano sneers. “Two workaholics walk into a room. What does the doctor say?”
Neither of them answer.
“She says that both will take a mandatory fifteen minute break. No paper work, no screens, no nothing," Yosano fake cackles, but again neither of them laugh.
“Yosano, what?!”
“There was no reason for this, Yosano."
Yosano taps her shoes. “Thirty minutes.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Kunikida asks.
“Twist my leg. An hour and a half!” Yosano yells gleefully, she grabs both of their wrists and shakes them vigorously. Neither of them get a word out before she drags them each over to a cot. She taps her chin. “Y’know I’m real sick of watching both of you drive yourself into the ground.” Yosano points a finger at Sigma. “You look like get an hour of sleep every night. And you!” It’s Kunikida’s turn now. “And I know you haven’t been doing any of the exercises.” She thrusts a stress ball into Kunikida’s hands.
Sigma is getting déjà vu.
"Your options are my way—" She holds up a key. "—or my way." Yosano juts her head over to the medical dissection poster on the wall and Sigma understands her perfectly clear.
"Your way!" They blurt out, nodding at the key. "Your way is perfectly suited to this" Sigma hadn't gotten the…privilege of being at the mercy of Yosano's ability, but the way everyone talked about it made Sigma sweat. Even Kunikida looks uncomfortable in his cot now.
"Good. I'll bring some water, pills, and a blanket so don't run."
Sigma scoots back on the cot and leans back against the cool wall behind them, closing their eyes and keeping their tempo with their breathing.
Eventually, Yosano comes back with a pitcher of water, cups, and blankets draped over her arm. She stops at Kunikida first then hands Sigma two pills. Sigma wants to get back to work; it feels like this is a huge waste of time to take a break, but they've made enough of a fool of themselves to Kunikida that it's probably better to just comply.
Yosano inhales, "I don't know what the hell is going on with you but you're a part of the agency now. It's my job to make sure you don't die and it's your job to show up and be here. You can't do that if you run yourself to the ground." Sigma freezes at the sentiment. Their heart spins in circles between the damage the Decay of Angels has done and the agency's own words. "We care about you here, Sigma. Don't forget that." She doesn't tell him to comfort him, but as an objective fact. There's no teasing smile or judgemental look; Yosano holds Sigma's gaze with authority until they nod.
She leaves after patting Sigma's knee over the blanket and flicking off the lights. They've seen the blanket in their office before. Usually Naomi or Haruno put it in their laps, but it's softer than Sigma thought.
The headache continues to persist as Sigma eases themselves into laying down.
"She's right," Kunikida adds in the quiet. Sigma cracks one eye open and doesn't answer. The whirlwind of emotions is overwhelming at best. The skin on his palms throb where little cutouts lay and their throat is dry even after gulps of water. They've never been so tired than right now. "Tell me something else," Kunikida invites. He passes the stress ball between his hands, slowly squeezing for a couple of counts and releasing. It's mesmerizing to watch.
Sigma could play dumb, but they know what Sigma is asking for. "I miss the casino," Sigma sighs. Kunikida stares at them blankly and Sigma can see his eyebrow twitch from across the room. They clarify, "I am perfectly aware of the fraud and the money laundering and the bombs, but I was a part of something larger." Sigma looks wistfully out the window. The feeling of helping their guests or planning the social events was electrifying.
In the middle of Sigma's reminiscing, Kunikida says, "You do belong here."
Their heart squeezes at the statement. It feels like Kunikida's hand grounding them from before. "What?" Sigma's voice sounds more croak than a whisper.
"In the agency," Kunikida clarifies. "You passed the test like the rest of us and you help people. You helped people before, Sigma. Even though the circumstances were dire, you wanted to help people. That's why you belong in the agency."
Sigma can't look at Kunikida anymore and closes their eyes and sleep starts to hover over them.
Before they can fall asleep, Sigma says quietly, “I'll give you back your camera at the end of the day. It's in my locker," Sigma says quietly. There's silence and Sigma teeters between the line of sleeping and not.
"Keep it," Kunikida answers.
“Thank you."
"I look forward to see what you'll take."
After sleeping for maybe too long, Sigma is able to get another case from Kunikida to process. Both of them seem in better spirits, albeit awkward. Sigma leaves the agency that evening with a weight off of their chest. It was cathartic to feel. The pressure of the shame and useless roll off their shoulders and pool at their feet. And it's raining outside, but Sigma's happy without an umbrella anyway. The rain feels cool against their skin and Sigma goes back to the dorms, looking forward to cooking.
The next day, Sigma comes early to try to clean up more of the mess of the storage closet. There was no doubt that Atsushi was forced to clean up most of the wreckage, but Sigma could at least help with reorganizing it again. The process would go much faster if the actual scribe were there to help file things. It's the least they can do.
The agency building is dark, the morning light creep along the floors, not ready to start the day. Sigma had always been a morning person or maybe that's all they could be with no time to sleep in or breathe. Morning and night blended together with all-nighters, then again with nightmares. So the empty agency building is nothing to be afraid of. Sigma drops off their stuff at their desk and makes their way to the storage closet to assess the damage.
When they open the still-broken door, the shelves have been cleared. The entire back half of the closet is spotless; Fyodor's records are all missing. Sigma stands there, mouth slack open.
"Are you looking for something, Sigma?" The President's voice echoes down the hall, breaking the morning quiet.
Sigma stammers, "Oh, no. I'm just looking- hoping to get some work done early." It's a horrible lie.
"I see. Well, if you're wondering about the move, they were moved to another storage facility for more confidential records," The President hints at. He strides up to the open doorway and peeks in himself. Sigma holds his breath. Yesterday, the President didn't call him in for destroying the files and firing him so inevitably Sigma has been waiting and dreading for the decision. But he smiles and points down the hall instead. "It's still early. Would you like to come into my office for some tea?"
Sigma starts to sweat as they play with the cuffs of their sleeves. "Are we having a meeting, Sir?" Their throat dries up at hearing their own question.
The President laughs though, "No, I only wanted some company from you to enjoy the morning. I have some treats I would like to share before Ranpo steals them from my desk."
It's such a simple answer that Sigma has the urge to ask, "Just tea?"
"Just tea."
Sigma steps out of the doorway. "I would love tea." And they leave the files behind.
Work continues as it did before.
Or perhaps, how it was supposed to.
There's a weight off of Sigma's chest to know his place in the agency. Their mind doesn't feel so clouded with doubt, tracking and measuring their own work. It's a bad habit to crack, but it's an effort all the same. The days go by without fear and that white closet door in the hallway doesn't scream at Sigma. They can't help but wonder who authorized that move.
Time has been given back to Sigma. They still feel restless as they wobble on their broken office chair with work too easy for them, but Sigma values work over nothing. Although, the guilt of that day still eats at them and Sigma will find themselves organizing the files available over again or sweeping the hallway in the middle of the day to keep busy. The workday is endless and Sigma starts to follow the lead of his coworkers by doing more.
Not slacking off though. Sigma could never imagine that.
Aside from taking the occasional report from Dazai, Sigma starts to spend extra time teaching the younger members techniques for their spreadsheet program. They're reminded of how young they all are everyday and Sigma wishes for an easy life for them. If Sigma was given nothing, they can hope and help these teenagers to grow too. Each of them know the general basics, but Sigma believes in them and their skills. They're so much better behaved than Sigma's employees in the Sky Casino.
Kunikida will jump in on their mini lessons too, always offering weird acronyms and rhymes to help remember certain codes. Something about being a math teacher, Naomi said? Sigma didn't really understand, but the little songs helped everyone.
The days they don't teach, they have lunch with an agency member. They all each lunch together in the office, but someone new sits with Sigma everyday it seems. An agency member. They all call them that. Sigma isn't sure if it's a new thing or they've always addressed them like this.
But most days at lunch, it's Kunikida.
It was incredibly awkward the first time. Sigma tried apologizing over and over, but Kunikida wouldn't let him, then they started arguing about stubbornness. Sigma had thought Kunikida would stop talking to them, but the next day he sits down across from Sigma again.
Another two weeks go by and the light feels warm on Sigma's back.
Kyouka and Atsushi are hovering behind him.
The two of them are both some of the best when it comes to stealth and understanding how to stalk their target. Timing becomes a large component of being on the front lines and knowing your opponent's openings to make your own, but somehow, they're both so awkward. Kyouka stands with her hands behind her back and Atsushi tugs on his compression gloves.
Sigma spins in their still broken office chair. "Hi." There's a pause with more unblinking stares from the two of them. Although, Kyouka doesn't seem bothered by the silence, Atsushi, on the other hand, very much is. "What's going on?" Sigma spares them.
Stepping forward, Kyouka pulls a book from behind her back. It's thick, heavy with a purple corduroy sleeve. Sigma knows they picked it because it matches their hair and they smile. Before Sigma can ask, Kyouka explain, "It's for you." Okay, she doesn't explain well.
Atsushi helpfully adds, "We thought since you're using the camera, you should have something to put the pictures in." It's a hefty photo album like Kenji's with enough space to write in the margins on each page. They're blank with little corner tabs on each one to hold a picture. In the front pocket, there's a torn scrap of paper with a list of words. Flowers, the sun, Moon, your favorite food, River, an agency member, Appreciation. That last one is vague, but Sigma is too amused at the wildly changing handwriting to think too hard on.
"Wow, thank you, Kyouka and Atsushi," Sigma says, looking at each of them.
"You're welcome," they both say happily.
The camera hasn't gotten much use over the last couple weeks. It just sits on Sigma's dining table, waiting for the right moment. The whole thing feels special like the first photograph will mark the start of Sigma's life. It should be momentous, Sigma thinks. Now, the camera sits and brings Sigma guild because nothing feel perfect enough for the task Kyouka gave them.
But Sigma has prompts now, given to them by their own coworkers and they have a job to complete. True to their word, Sigma uses the prompts. They may give themselves another anxiety attack about their first picture, but nothing matters when Sigma accidentally clicks the button on some dead grass outside of the agency dorms. Their heart shatters as the camera whirs and spits out a polaroid. It's so ugly and blurry, Sigma embarrassingly lets out a tear.
The next one will be better, they vow.
Sigma ends up taking the whole day with no breaks, walking around Yokohama and using the camera everywhere. Flowers, benches, buildings, birds, Sigma practices on everything until the film runs out. Most of them are ugly and Sigma laughs til they can't breathe. They keep taking pictures and show Kyouka and Kenji the good ones, putting them into the new photo album and writing notes about the prompt and the day. Slowly, the days start to pass and the pages start to fill.
Everyday isn't spent with their new photography homework. Most days, Sigma goes back to the dorm and reads more history books than they can count or watches documentaries. The routine is enough for him.
Some people think differently though and one day, Yosano take them and Atsushi shopping for clothes and anything else they want. She says they're both too frugal with their money and need to "let loose" and "have fun". Sigma just likes to think that they are well planned and prepared for whatever is to come which is a boring answer apparently. Yosano picks an outfit for them both to buy while Atsushi and Sigma try on new clothes. Everything outside of professional clothing is uncomfortable for Sigma, but they're trying.
The next day, Sigma comes into work with their hair in a braid. The air flowing on their neck is strange with the added weight on his scalp. Ranpo and Dazai say it looks nice while Haruno and Naomi cheer for the change in Sigma's routine. Sigma blushes at all the attention.
Kunikida, on the other hand, can't look at them properly during lunch.
"Are you alright, Kunikida?"
"Yes, of course," Kunikida replies too fast. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Sigma decides to wear their hair down for most days after that.
Even with their tense start, Kunikida and Sigma still get lunch together. At least three times a week, they'll end up across from each other again and one day, Kunikida suggests they go out during their lunch break. Sigma has been eager to learn everything about Yokohama so they feel ready to explore the city more. They make it a point to try a new restaurant or food vendor every single time. For the data. As two people who don't appreciate straying from their routines, Kunikida seems adamant on the experience. He writes down little notes and reviews with his own rating system. Half their lunch is spent with both of the evaluating with every new variable they came up with.
Sigma starts to look forward to their lunches more and more.
There's someone behind him again.
"Happy Birthday!" Naomi cheers and holds out a wrapped gift to them.
Sigma looks down at the polka-dotting wrapping paper and back up at Naomi. "It's not my birthday?" They're not even sure if they have one; being created from the book had its own extra burdens. Tanizaki shrugs behind her.
She pouts at Sigma and sighs dramatically. "It's not everyday you have your birthday, Sigma. I mean think- someone might not have a birthday and we would be taking advantage of the days we could be celebrating by not!" Naomi stares deep into Sigma's soul, unblinking.
"I suppose you're right," they hesitate. Sigma knows she's talking about them, but Sigma had never thought about a birthday of any kind. Much less celebrating their own life.
Nodding, Naomi drops the wrapped gift in Sigma's lap. It looks like she doesn't want to wait for them to accept it anymore. "I'm always right," she admits. Tanizaki is rolling his eyes now, but Sigma doesn't rat him out for the sake of the agency. Naomi points at the gift. "Sigma, open it."
"Yes, yes, okay," they agree, smiling as they rip off scraps of wrapping paper to reveal a bag. It's crocheted, brown and cream yarn crisscross over each other and Sigma holds it gently in their hands speechless. The inside of it is lined with white fabric with little yellow polka-dots and there's a small pocket too. Sigma can see the hand stitching throughout the bag and they look up at Naomi who's giddily hiding behind her hands.
"It's a camera bag. I noticed you always holding it so I wanted to make something for you." She smiles and the sun behind her shines onto Sigma. Although, the camera has a case, it lacks any bag for it. With all the photos Sigma is taking, new opportunities present themselves often. A bird landed on a dogs head and Sigma missed it, so they vowed that day was the last day Sigma would miss a photo opportunity. They never had any way to carry it before, but now—"Do you like it?"
"I-yes, I love it. Thank you," Sigma breathes, running their finger down the long strap.
"Happy Birthday, Sigma."
Sigma can only nod when tears start welling up in their eyes. They can't say anything more when Naomi pulls them into an awkward hug and Tanizaki joins them too. The bag is squished between the three of them and Sigma can't wait to put the camera inside it.
"Would you help me make bentos for the sakura watch party?" Kyouka asks.
Sigma's hands clack horribly on the keyboard. They return with their own question. "Is there no one else who can help you? I'm sure Naomi or Kenji or maybe the President would help you? I believe they all like to cook." Surely, Sigma is the last option to come to for help with something like this. Sigma also heard a rumor that the President was Kyouka's grandpa, but they weren't sure what to make of that considering their age difference. However, Sigma was the last to judge when it came to age.
"I wanted you to help me," Kyouka reiterates.
Sigma pauses, "I'm not sure I'll be much help." Their cooking skills are limited to say the least. They always made something simple to get by with more important priorities keeping them away from cooking. Like money laundering. Why would anyone want their help?
Everyone in the agency is stubborn to a fault, but it's not so bad. Kyouka accepts Sigma's reasoning anyway with a smile. "Okay, will you help anyway?"
Cooking with Kyouka is not something Sigma thought would ever happen in their days in the agency. "Yes, I will," Sigma answers, touched by Kyouka's insistence.
The two of them walk to Kyouka's shared dorm and Sigma finds it filled to the brim with ingredients and supplies for the party tomorrow. Sigma thinks their entire living area is filled with empty black bento boxes and they wonder where Kyouka could buy this many in bulk. They definitely have their work cut out for them, but the two of them take charge of their separate stations. Kyouka works on cutting the vegetables while Sigma prepares the seasonings and marinades. The two of them work together to cook and clean around each other into late in the night.
Sigma feels covered in all sorts of food stuff with sore feet by the time they're done with the cooking, but they've never felt so fulfilled. After years of running their short lived Sky Casino, every poker game, hotel fiasco, and budgeting fix they saved is nothing compared to their hard work tonight. Kyouka showed them how to plate each bento with cute pink details for tomorrow with a ribbon around each box to hold it together.
"Thank you for helping me today," Kyouka says.
"I should be thanking you for inviting me and allowing me into your home," Sigma mumbles.
"I guess we both helped each other today. That's a part of being a member of the agency," Kyouka muses, passing Sigma their own bento box and chopsticks. Even outside of the office, Sigma finds themselves in situations where they can't deny the agency from their life. It feels impossible to separate the two now.
They eat their late dinner together and Sigma takes a picture of theirs. Later, they'll tape it into their new photo album- "new favorite food" Kyouka says that's cheating because a bento is made up of multiple different types of foods, but Sigma is too excited to care.
The day of the party is blessed. The sky is a brilliant blue with a spring time breeze carrying them to their spot. Sigma can't keep his eyes off of trees around them, fluttering pink with life. They read about them in books, but seeing them in person with their own is a whole new experience. It's a surprise that Sigma doesn't trip holding so many bento boxes with Kyouka, but Atsushi is able to guide them with his voice to their picnic spot.
(And the Port Mafia's spot. Sigma suddenly understands why they made so many bento boxes last night.)
They spread out all their blankets and start to pass out the bento boxes with enough thanks for Sigma's cheeks to hurt from smiling. Everyone cheers and talks about their favorite details with each other while praising Sigma and Kyouka for their cooking. Kyouka and Kenji won't let Sigma deny the praise, saying they did as much cooking as Kyouka and deserve it too.
However, the toasts can't just end with Kyouka; Dazai and Chuuya want their say as well. Four minutes into the picnic and the two of them are already tipsy somehow, one more than the other. Chuuya swirls his wine glass at Chuuya and raises his glass. "You were a pain in the ass to hold as dead weight!"
"I don't think that's a compliment," Sigma grimaces.
"Your ass to hold!" Dazai shouts as an afterthought, laughing with his head tipped back. His glass is wobbling precariously towards the picnic blanket, somehow always tilting the other way before it's too late.
Sigma slams their face into their hands and groans. "That's definitely not one!"
Festivities start officially as people start drinking and eating more. Sigma makes their rounds saying hi to the Port Mafia members along with the agency members. They're not sure if the truce still holds these days, but it doesn't seem to matter in the presence of food and alcohol. It's so lively. Sigma isn't sure how to take it all in.
Over the course of a year and some, these people have become their people. The agency gave Sigma a home and now Sigma feels so strongly here. With every new day, their time at the agency becomes their own. Fyodor's memories don't fade, but new ones are treasured in their photo album and they're all Sigma's.
It's when they're sitting with Haruno that Kunikida comes over to sit with Sigma. Strange how she's called away to play a game of badminton by Naomi at the same time though.
"Did you like our bento?" Sigma asks.
"I didn't know you could cook," Kunikida comments.
Sigma laughs awkwardly, "I can't. Not really anyway."
"Give yourself some credit. It was delicious."
Sigma leans back on their hands and close their eyes, relaxing the spring weather, hopefully the first time of many. The silence between them is comfortable and over the past few months, Kunikida's company is something Sigma looks forward to everyday. He's so easy to be around, Sigma thinks. Selfishly, Sigma wouldn't mind seeing Kunikida more. They hope they can be closer with Kunikida in this new time of growth. When Sigma opens their eyes, Kunikida is sitting, staring at Sigma intensely. "Everything okay?"
Kunikida hesitates, looking at the petals above them. "I want to make memories with you." It's like he's saying it through his teeth, all stilted and slow.
"What?" Sigma narrows his eyes in confusion.
Lifting up a hand to his face, Kunikida looks weirdly flushed. "I want to make memories with you." The other hand rests on Sigma's, warm and inviting all over again.
"Oh." Sigma stares at their hands sitting together and the realization shocks Sigma's nervous system alert. Their heart flutters as their brain pieces everything together. Sigma squeaks, "Wait, you mean-?!"
Kunikida nods behinds his hands, peeking at Sigma from his fingers. He mumbles, "Could I take you out for lunch this week?"
"How is this different than our normal lunches?" Sigma asks, their cheeks pink with affection. The idea of getting lunch again with Kunikida softens their heart for more.
Coming out of his own physical shell, Kunikida smiles slightly. Scheduling will always be easy with Kunikida. He eyes the notebook next to him, not taking his hand off of Sigma's. "I suppose, it's not. Wednesday then?"
Their own planner flashes through their mind with muscle memory. "No!" Sigma gasps, eyebrows furrowed at the question. Kunikida is distraught and starts to pull away his hand slightly. Realizing their rash words, Sigma flips their hand and holds Kunikida's, trying their best to reassure him. Comfort has never been Sigma's strong suit. "Sorry, I remembered. We have the tea with Francis and other members of the Guild that overlaps our typical lunch break. How does Thursday fit your schedule?"Sigma asks, hoping for their schedules line up.
Kunikida looks at Sigma and Sigma realizes that Kunikida has been looking at them like this for some time now. The feelings blooming in their own chest aren't new, Sigma can recognize that much, but they never had a name til now. Their eyes go wide, flustered beyond all means when Kunikida pulls their hand up to his lips. "You're wonderful. Thursday works great."
Sigma takes a photo of them together. They're both red in the face and you can see Yosano laughing in the background with Naomi. A copy of it is given for Kenji's scrapbook for Sigma's first page.
The real photo is put into Sigma's own photo album under the prompt "Belonging". It's perfect.