Work Text:
The Right Direction
Huh. Never would have expected the kid to show up. And yet there he is, eyes sharper than Tohru remembers, seated across the rickety table, waiting for him.
“Hey.” No fanfare, just simple and straightforward as Tohru takes his seat, the shackles connecting his wrists clanging loudly against the metal table. The kid doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.
“Adachi.”
Ah, so that’s where they are. It seems the kid is just as done with the fanfare as Tohru is. That’s okay. Great, even. Tohru smiles, and even though he can’t see himself, he knows how predatory it must look.
“It’s been three years, kid. Why now?” It’s a legitimate question. He’s not going to bother to ask what the kid has been up to. It’s not why he’s here now, and frankly, Tohru doesn’t care.
If anything, the kid’s eyes narrow even more. “It was time,” he says, shrugging, a full body motion that doesn’t match the expression on his face. “I hear you’re getting out in a few weeks.”
“Out on good behavior. You here to make sure I’ve learned my lesson? Or are you looking to save my soul?” Tohru says, smirking. “You’re wasting your time, kid. I can’t be saved.”
The kid leans in, and for just a hint of a second, Tohru sees Dojima in him as clear as if the man himself were sitting across from him. But then it’s gone, and it’s just the kid, with his silvery hair and intense gray stare. “I don’t believe that’s true.” He says it like it’s the most obvious of conclusions to draw, as if Tohru were an idiot for thinking otherwise.
Tohru snorts. He had thought their time together was through. Now it looks like maybe it’s just beginning.
If he could, he’d lean back and put his feet on the table. “So, tell me, just how do you plan on saving me?”
And what do you know; the kid actually smiles.
Tohru is visited five more times in the final weeks before his release: once by Dojima, twice by his soon-to-be parole officer, once by his lawyer, and once, and only once, by the kid. It’s enough. Apparently his idea of saving him didn’t involve all that much taking. And for someone who’s been talking until he’s blue in face in courtroom after courtroom, the quiet is more than welcome.
When he does speak, his voice is low and smooth, and for the first time, Tohru thinks he can see why he had been the most popular kid in school. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this kid’s time?
And now that singular focus is directed his way, and Tohru isn’t complaining. Quite the contrary, in fact. Spending time with the kid is the most enjoyable he’s spent since he got locked up.
Prison turned out to be dreadfully boring, and he wasn’t exactly popular, having killed women and all. But he’d bided his time well, made himself as unassuming as possible – something he has a lot of practice with – and begged for leniency.
He’d gotten it, too. Which probably says something about the state of the court system, but who cares? Certainly not Tohru as he walks out of the gates a free man. Well, mostly free. He’s still on parole, restricted to a specific area of travel, but it’s good enough.
Of course the kid is waiting for him. If there’d been any doubt that he’d be there, it doesn’t show on Tohru’s face as he smiles and steps forward. It’s not the dopey grin he used to give the kid back when he was still considered one of the good guys. No, this was pure Tohru Adachi, a smile with an edge.
The kid’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t step forward or wave. He just stands there and makes Tohru come to him.
Cheeky brat.
But then, he’s not quite the brat he once was. Three years had been good to him, filling him out in all the right places. He’s broader in the shoulder now, with just a hint of stubble marring his otherwise flawless cheeks. His hair is shorter now, gelled up into something stylish, his clothes appropriately different than either his uniform or the non-descript outfits he’d wear everywhere back then. He looks like an upstanding citizen.
Tohru can’t help but sneer at that.
“My uncle pushed your parole through,” he says by way of greeting, and Tohru’s grin grows wider.
“Looking out for me as a favor?” he says, laughing at the very idea.
“No,” the kid says, his eyes twitching subtly, but otherwise he holds his neutral expression well. Tohru is almost impressed.
“Then what?”
“I asked him to.”
That gives Tohru pause. The kid says it like it’s nothing, just a throw-away comment, but Tohru is quickly learning that beneath that cool exterior is a depth he could spend the rest of his life exploring and still not even scratch the surface. It’s both a thrilling and terrifying thought.
He decides to go with the obvious question. “Why the hell would you do that, kid?”
“Did you ever wonder why our personas were so similar?” he asks cryptically.
Tohru rolls his eyes. “I’m not big on riddles.”
“I’m here for the same reason,” he continues, as if Tohru hadn’t spoken. “We’re the same, you and I.”
Tohru actually snorts. “Yeah, sure kid. Whatever you say.”
Finally the kid has an expression, even if it’s exasperation. “Not on the outside – not what everyone sees,” he says slowly, as if Tohru were the child here. “It’s that empty place inside that only we know about. We are zero, empty, waiting to be pushed and pulled in whatever direction life takes us.” His eyes narrow, sharp and clear. “We are the same. We were just moved in different ways.”
There is a moment, just one, where Tohru attempts to formulate a reply, but before anything can come clear, warm lips are pressed against his in something that could be called a kiss, though it feels more like a full body possession with the way the kid is suddenly all fire, pressing every inch of himself against him, pulling him in with strong, capable fingers – the same fingers that had held the sword that had struck him down three years ago – and Tohru is just barely catching on, just barely reaching back before the kid is just gone, standing a good two feet away and looking for all the world like he’d been there all the time.
“Come on,” the kid says, cracking a tiny smile, “let’s see if I can’t help push you back in the right direction.”
Tohru answers that smile with a darker grin and follows, thinking that if the kid can’t pull him the right way, Tohru can always yank him in the wrong one. Either way, he’s more than just a little interested in seeing where this goes.