Chapter Text
'Am I making a mistake?' That question was the only thing going through Tachihara Michizō's head from the second he impulsively chose a different train than the one he was supposed to get on. Repeating in his head over and over as this train left Tokyo. Growing louder as it pulled into an unfamiliar station a little over an hour later.
Michizō gripped the straps of his rucksack tighter as he adjusted it on his shoulders. Stepping out into the station and into the chaos of Yokohama. Decidedly not a military base on the outskirts of Tokyo.
This wasn't the farthest he'd been away from home. That was when he and Shunzen were sent to their grandparents' place for a summer when he was small. Before they'd moved closer. Before The War. Before Shunzen...
He removed one hand from his bag and clenched Shunzen's dogtags around his neck. This was better. He'd prove himself worthy of his family's love. Not by joining the military. But by getting rid of the woman who killed Shunzen.
Did Michizō know how he'd do it? No. How do you kill an unkillable woman? But he had to try. So this agony would dissipate. So his family would love him again.
In a few weeks, Michizō would turn 13 and that was apparently good enough reason for his parents to tell him to scram. Sending him in the direction of the military with a rucksack, a smart phone that was closer to a brick than a phone, and barely enough money to buy basic necessities.
He found the information desk easily enough. An older man was working it. "Excuse me." Michizō tried to sound confident. But his voice cracked painfully.
The man looked up from his book and smiled kindly. "Hello young man. What can I help you with? Are you lost?"
Michizō shook his head. "No, sir. But I do need directions. To the Armed Detective Agency." He'd done his research. But he'd never been in Yokohama before.
Kind eyes softened slightly. "Here. Let me show you on a map." The information clerk pulled out a folded paper map and a pen. He scribbled for a few seconds before handing the map to Michizō. "I made a note of street names. When you get to the red brick building. Go to the fourth floor."
The teen nodded and bowed his head. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome, lad. A word of advice. Don't go wandering around after dark. There's a bunch of unsavory folks." The clerk warned. "Stay safe out there, kid."
Leaving the station. The weight of his actions hit Michizō like a brick to the face. But it was too late now. So, he looked over the map carefully and started walking. Maybe he could pass as a tourist.
After a while, the smell of coffee wafted from a cafe on the first floor of a red brick building. Michizō's eyes slid up to the fourth floor. His hands shaking. Why was he so nervous? He'd been dreaming about this for nearly a decade.
One foot in front of the other. His sneakers feeling heavy as lead. Michizō kept his eyes on the staircase. Eventually the signs depicting what other businesses were in the building came into view.
One by one, the tween made his way up the staircase. Ignoring his heart pounding in his ears. The churning of his stomach. The stinging of his eyes. Michizō's right hand remained grasping the dogtags. But with his left. He reached into a pocket of his bag. The one other item of Shunzen's that he'd kept. The one item that the soldier had given to him for safekeeping.
Despite having forgotten his voice. Michizō remembered Shunzen's warm smile as he ruffled the then toddler's hair with one hand as he handed Michizō the pocketknife with the other. How he'd said "Keep it safe for me until I get back. 'kay, Zou-chan?"
It was only fitting that he end the woman that took Shunzen away from him with the knife that belonged to Shunzen himself. Even if he didn't know how he'd do it. His dad had taken him hunting once. And Michizō was rather deft with a bow and arrow. But even then no words of praise came from his dad. He'd probably fail at killing Yosano and then he'd get sent back to Tokyo full of shame.
Carefully sliding the knife into the pocket of his shorts. Michizō kept climbing. Before he knew it. Michizō had made it to the fourth floor. Why did he feel so nauseous? Why did he feel like he might faint? Finally, his hand made contact with the door knob of a door with a plaque that read 'Armed Detective Agency' with the year it was established.
Steeling his nerve, Michizō took a deep breath and opened the door. Stepping inside the brightly lit office.
It smelled a bit like caramel behind the smell of office buildings and schools. Oh God, what was he going to do about school!? His parents had likely withdrawn his enrollment from his junior high. No. Now wasn't the time to think about that. He had a mission.
There were two pods of four desks in the main office area. With a single desk in the very back. But what drew the tween's attention was that no one was there. They couldn't be closed. The door had been unlocked.
Why hadn't he considered that she wouldn't be here? Of course that was a chance. This was a detective agency. Maybe she was working outside the office.
To the left, there was a sofa, two arm chairs, and a coffee table between them. Huh. Well, Michizō could wait. The sofa looked comfortable enough.
Sitting down, he held his rucksack in his lap, hugging it like a lifeline. This was stupid. He shouldn't have done this. He should've listened to his parents and gotten on the correct train. But no. He just had to try and prove himself. No wonder they had told him to go.
Michizō was so engrossed in his mini spiral that he didn't notice the soft clunking sound of wooden geta on tile until a traditionally dressed man in either his late 30s or early 40s was standing next to the arm chairs. His hands tucked within the sleeves of his haori. A katana attached to the man's left side.
Amber eyes looked up to meet steely blue-gray ones. Which were full of concern despite the stoic look on the man's face. "Are you lost, young man?"
"N-no, sir." Michizō shook his head. This man exuded a quiet yet strong spirit. Like he'd been a soldier. But no. He didn't carry himself like one. Michizō couldn't get a good read on him. And he was usually really good at reading people. "I'm looking for someone. And I was told that she'd be here. Is this where I'll find Doctor Yosano Akiko?"
The man sat down across from Michizō. "It is. But she isn't here presently. But if it is urgent, I can call her back."
Michizō mentally slapped himself. Of course she was out right now. Michizō just had great timing. "If it isn't too much trouble. I'm fine waiting here. I'm not in a rush."
The man nodded yet made no move to get up from the chair. "Very well. I am the president of this agency, Fukuzawa Yukichi. Might I ask your name?"
He looked at Fukuzawa and shrugged. "Michizō. Just Michizō." He didn't have a right to his family name anymore.
"Alright, 'Just Michizō." Fukuzawa had the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. "While we wait, would you care for something to eat or drink? I was just brewing myself some tea, a gift from a client. I could easily pour you a cup and bring out some snacks."
Michizō felt slightly unnerved, a slight prickling up his neck, at how kind Fukuzawa was being. He surely wouldn't be so kind if he knew why Michizō was here. "You don't have to. I don't want to be a bother."
The president held up a hand and shook his head. "It is no bother to me. Humor an old man, would you? My children act like having tea is a boring old man's hobby. But I find that it calms the mind and acts as something to look forward to each day." A glimmer of further amusement sparkled in his eyes. "Nevermind the fact I'm only 39 and decidedly not old. Though I suppose that's old to you young people."
"That's younger than my parents were when I was born." Michizō squeezed his rucksack tighter. "If you're sure it's not a bother."
Fukuzawa stood up. "No bother in the slightest. Give me just a moment." He walked away. Presumably to a kitchen of sorts. Leaving Michizō to feel very small and alone in this unfamiliar city.
Fukuzawa had probably figured him out and was going to poison him. His intent was probably painted all over Michizō's face. But he couldn't give up yet. He had to follow through with his plan.
A few minutes later, Fukuzawa returned with a small tray with a tea pot, cups, and a few cakes and cookies as well as a couple varieties of crackers and cheese. The older man placed it on the table and started to pour the tea. "My son, he has a sweet tooth like you wouldn't believe. So I keep many sweets stocked up in the office. But I know not everyone has a love for sugar like he does. I hope you don't mind cheese and crackers."
Michizō cautiously took a cracker with a piece of cheddar on it and popped it in his mouth. It didn't taste poisoned. He swallowed before speaking. "My big brother had the worst sweet tooth. He asked for a 'Death by chocolate' cake for his 18th birthday. Of course I was psyched about it because I was a toddler at the time. And little kids love sugar. But I prefer salty."
A small smile broke up the stoic look on Fukuzawa's face. "As do I, though I will occasionally indulge in candied chestnuts or the like. There is nothing wrong with enjoying what you enjoy." His smile fell back into stoicism. "But, I noticed you used past tense when referring to your brother. If it's not too sore of a wound. May I ask when he passed?"
"A little over a year later. It'll be 8 years since then later this month." Michizō's mouth felt dry so he took the cup of tea and drank. He barely tasted it before swallowing. "The letter came during my 5th birthday party."
Sympathy dripped from the president's tone. "I see. He was a soldier. I'm deeply sorry for your loss. The War was a very dark time for many."
The stinging pressure behind Michizō's eyed was building. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. Not now. He couldn't embarrass himself like that. So instead he simply choked out. "Thank you, sir."
"Michizō, there is no shame in mourning your loved ones. I will not judge you for a few shed tears." A tissue box was placed in front of him. Why was Fukuzawa being so nice to him? No one had been this nice to him in nearly a decade.
Fighting back the urge to cry, he reached for a cookie and nibbled on it. He didn't deserve this kindness from Fukuzawa. Not when Michizō was here to kill Yosano. But it had been so long since anyone had looked at him with any kind of kindness or sympathy. "'m not supposed to cry. I'm almost 13."
"Nonsense. You're allowed to cry." Fukuzawa said sympathetically. "It's healthy. But I won't press the issue if it's making you uncomfortable. I just know how difficult emotions can be at your age."
Michizō felt a wave of sadness wash over him at Fukuzawa's continued kindness. He wished his father was anywhere near as kind. Even when Shunzen was still alive. He'd made his clear favoritism obvious enough that a toddler picked up on it.
He had just placed the cup of tea back on the table and was about to reach for a tissue to wipe his eyes. When the doorknob twisted and the door swung open. Revealing two young adults.
A man with a brown pageboy cap on his head, in a white button up, tie, and brown slacks matching the cap. His eyes closed in amusement behind glasses. Accompanying him was a young woman in a blouse, ribbon in a bow around her neck, a long skirt, bright red heels, and a golden butterfly holding her hair in a bun. They were laughing about something only they knew about.
Michizō clenched his jaw and squeezed his rucksack tighter. Suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed. She was here. And she was happy. How could she be happy after all she'd done to Michizō?
"Shachou! We're back!" The man cheerfully called out. "Another successful case closed by yours truly!"
Fukuzawa got up and moved to pay the younger man on the head. "Well done, Ranpo. And I'm sure Akiko kept you from insulting the officers at the scene?"
Yosano scoffed. "I did. But I nearly had to duct tape his mouth shut. He called a sergeant a dumbass who couldn't tell a stab wound from a hole in the ground."
The president sighed, exasperated. "Be that as it may. I'm glad you both returned safely. And as a matter of fact. I was just having a conversation with this young man. He's here to speak with you, Akiko."
With a jolt. Michizō put his bag to the side and reached into his pocket– letting his hand wrap around the knife's handle– before standing up and facing her. He kept his head down. He didn't want to look at her. Afraid of losing his nerve.
Heels clicked on the tile. The shoes coming into his line of sight a few feet away from Michizō. "What does a shrimp need to talk to me about?"
Bitter, angry tears pooled and fell down Michizō's cheeks when he looked up. He took the knife out of his pocket, immediately flipping it open and holding it out so the blade was pointed at Yosano. "You ruined my life. I can't stand it. You ruined my life and you're just. Just standing there! I need to get revenge!" His hand hurt from gripping the pocket knife's handle so tight.
"Woah. Kid." Yosano held up both gloved hands like Michizō was a wild animal. Which wasn't an inaccurate description. Michizō felt like one. "I don't know you. How did I ruin your life?"
With his left hand, Michizō pulled his necklace out from under his shirt. He pulled it over his head and held the chain out so the light would catch it. "My name…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting to keep his voice steady through his tears. "Is Tachihara Michizō. Eight years ago. My big brother, Shunzen, died. Because of you! And for years. I've been saddled with this neverending agony. And now. I came here wanting to hurt you. I'm not supposed to be here. But I can't live with this anymore. I need to hurt you like you hurt me."
Magenta eyes searched his face, and when they landed on Shunzen's dogtags, recognition lit up her face, which was immediately taken over by a deep sadness. "Oh. Oh, kid. I'm sorry."
Michizō wanted to laugh. But the hand holding out the knife was shaking along with his arms and legs. "W-what?"
Yosano took a step forward. Like they were the only two in the office. Ranpo and Fukuzawa were watching silently. "I'm sorry." She repeated. "Your brother was my friend. I still have nightmares about the fact I was too late to save him. I can't imagine how you must feel."
"Don't pretend like you even know the half of it!" His hand was shaking worse. His vision blurry from the tears. "He promised me! He promised me he'd come home and write his book. Aniki was mine and you took him from me! I'm all alone. Because of you. His life ended and it feels like mine did too." Michizō squeezed the handle of the blade tighter. "How can you stand there and act like what happened didn't happen!?"
The doctor took another step towards him. Her hand outstretched. Yosano took his hand, the one holding the knife, and removed it from his fist. She folded it up and put it on the armrest of the couch. "Tachihara-kun. Michizō. Words cannot describe how sorry I am for what happened. Shunzen-san spoke so highly of you." She held both of his hands in her own. Even with the dogtags in his fist. "I tried my hardest to save him. Until everyone else had to pull me away. I was only a little younger than you are now. And I was in the hospital for three years after."
Michizō's bottom lip wobbled with more tears. "I hate you." He choked on this words. He didn't truly believe that. But who else could he hate? If she was only a kid then. Then who was to blame? Who drove Shunzen to madness and desperation that led him to take his life. "What am I supposed to do if I can't make myself hurt you? I can't go home."
From a few feet away, Fukuzawa cleared his throat. "What about your parents? Do they know where you are?"
A broken sob shattered and started Michizō crying again. He couldn't get the words out. Couldn't admit that they hated him. That they wished he was dead instead of Shunzen.
"I think we have another orphan on our hands, Shachou." Yosano squeezed Michizō's hands in a comforting manner.
The other detective, Ranpo, hummed thoughtfully. His green eyes looked so bright they looked like they were glowing. "No. He's not. But. Tachihara-kun, do your parents know you're here?"
Michizō shook his head. "'m not supposed to be here." His voice cracked and felt like splinters in his throat. "They told me to get lost and go join the military. Try to be half the man my brother was. They hate me." He wiped his cheek with his shoulder. "They'd trade me for Aniki in a heartbeat. I thought if I could hurt Yosano. They'd love me again. But I can't. Why can't I make myself do it? I've hated you for years. Why do I hate you? What am I doing here? I don't know what to do. I'm all alone."
Yosano looked at him with such understanding and kindness that it was almost painful. "You can hate me if you want. But, if you're willing. I'd love to talk to you about your brother. He was my first real friend. And he held on for so long because he loved you, he wanted to go home and see you grow up. But we weren't allowed to go home. My boss at the time forbid it. And it just…got to be too much."
Before he could get any response out. Michizō felt a sharp pain throughout his entire body. His knees buckled from underneath him, hitting the floor painfully. Michizō gripped the sides of his head like it would relieve the pressure. The agony in his head and chest felt so heavy like it might burst. 'She's kind. She's barely an adult. She was a kid back then. Yosano wasn't responsible. I've hated the wrong person this whole time. She's not at fault. She's not at fault. She's not at fault.'
Those thoughts kept repeating and building in his mind. A blindingly white glow flooded his eyes. Which forced Michizō to shut them tightly. He felt something inside him pull on something– no, several somethings– out of his body. He couldnt hear anything beyond the blood rushing in his ears. Like he was aware of it on a molecular level. A painful pressure accompanying it.
And suddenly. With a cold and sharp pain to his right eyebrow. The bubble of pressure popped, and something hot trickled down Michizō's face. Followed by the metallic clanging of something hitting the floor.
Michizō opened his eyes to see Yosano, Ranpo, and Fukuzawa looking at him with concern. Yosano was kneeling in front of him. Her hair had fallen out of the bun held by her butterfly ornament. Said ornament was laying on the floor between them , a smattering of blood on one of its wings. "What happened?"
"I think." Yosano took a gauze pad soaked in rubbing alcohol out of a small medical kit Michizō hadn't noticed before. She held it to Michizō's eyebrow, which was stinging horribly. "You may have manifested an Ability. Unless you've always been able to manipulate metal. Or if your brother possibly passed his onto you."
Blinking a few times, Michizō tried his best to frown. But it just pulled on his eyebrow too much. "Nuh uh. I've never been able to do that."
Yosano removed the bloodied gauze and took out a clean one, holding it to Michizō's forehead. "Then you just manifested one. I guess the stress of what we were talking about flipped the switch. My hair ornament hit you in the head. Do you feel okay. I don't see any signs of a concussion, like your pupils being out of whack. Does your head hurt beyond the cut on your face? Or are you dizzy?"
"No." Michizō felt a little numb. He had the same ability as Shunzen. Abilities were just manifestations from the soul. Then was he enough like Shunzen that their souls were siblings too? A vague memory was brought to the forefront of his mind. Shunzen putting him in a little red wagon and using his ability to make Michizō fly around the living room. "Did he?"
Yosano's eyes flicked down to the butterfly on the floor before meeting his again. "Yeah. Shunzen-san made it for me. I lost it for a while after he passed. But Ranpo found it and gave it back to me when I was taken out of the hospital." A single tear slid down her face, but she just kept speaking to keep the conversation from derailing. "Listen, Michizō-kun. Like I said. I don't mind if you hate me. I certainly don't hate you. And I would love to get to know the kid Shunzen-san was so proud of. But holding onto that hatred will burn you up from the inside. I am not your enemy. Okay?"
Michizō felt the corners of his mouth twitch downward. "I don't know what to do with this hatred. I'm scared. What am I supposed to do?"
"Do you have any hobbies?" Ranpo asked, handing Michizō a cookie. "Akiko likes to watch horror movies. I like to write. Shachou does old man things like brew tea and play go."
The tween shook his head again to answer Ranpo's question. "Never been allowed to." He said between bites of the cookie
"Can I ask why you think your parents hate you?" Yosano asked. Moving Michizō's hand to hold the gauze to the cut. Once she was satisfied that he wouldn't move his hand away, she picked up the golden butterfly. Placing it in her pocket.
A bitter feeling crept up the brunet's throat. "They told me. My parents, aunts, uncles, my grandparents. They all said they'd gladly trade me if it meant Aniki would come back to life. They'll probably have a fit if they find out I have his Gift now too." He didn't want to go home. But he had no choice. Michizō's only other choice was going back to Tokyo and getting on the next train to that weird military base. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe that way he could make his family proud. Or more likely they'd accuse him of trying to upstage Shunzen.
Yosano had a strange look on her face as she helped Michizō to his feet. Michizō wanted to question her. But he was stopped by Fukuzawa asking him a question. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"
"I…" Michizō trailed off and stared at the floor. He wanted to say yes. To say that he could stay with a friend or something. But he didn't have any. He wasn't exactly social at school. He didn't do any extracurriculars. Had never joined any sports teams. When he'd asked to take karate lessons when he was six. His dad scoffed and told him that he'd only fail so there was no point. "No. I don't." He admitted quietly. With a finality that sat heavily on his heart.
A warm, gloved hand settled on his back. "Why don't you go have a lie down in the infirmary? I'll patch you up. Then we'll discuss what you want to do next." Yosano said while leading Michizō to what he guessed was the infirmary. "No one will bother you."
Michizō grimaced, fighting back more tears. He'd really screwed up. "I'm sorry. For trying to hurt you. For being so angry. And for getting blood on your hair pin."
Yosano didn't say anything until she shut the door to the infirmary behind them and sat Michizō down on a bed. She herself sitting down in a rolling chair and looking him in the eyes. "Kid. I should be the one apologizing. You've been living with this grief non stop for most of your life. How old are you exactly?"
"I'm 12. I turn 13 at the end of July. The 30th to be exact." Michizō felt so much all at once. But didn't know how to name it. "The letter came during my 5th birthday party. I thought it was a letter from him wishing me a happy birthday and telling me that he'd be home soon. But my parents started crying. And I knew." He removed his shoes and curled up on the bed. His knees to his chest as he sat still. "I miss him. He was the only member of my family that liked me."
Yosano, once she'd put on a sterile pair of gloves, rolled the chair over and removed Michizō's hand with the gauze from his forehead. She pulled out a tube of some kind of numbing ointment. Gently applying it to the skin around the cut. "He spoke very highly of you. You look just like him."
A final tear escaped Michizō's eye, tracing down his cheek as he blinked it away. "You knew him better than I did. I was a toddler. You were what, ten? Eleven?"
She nodded slightly, placing the tube down. "I was. I'll be 19 in December. Hold still a second."
A pang of grief felt like it stabbed Michizō. He didn't even notice that Yosano had a suture kit on a side table until she picked up the needle. "That's how old he…"How old Shunzen had been. Jesus. Shunzen would be 27 now. Probably a successful author. Maybe he would've met someone and started a family of his own. Or not. Michizō would never know.
"He didn't mention your parents much at all. Just you." Yosano smiled sadly. One hand holding his right eyebrow steady. The other starting to stitch the cut shut. "He loved you more than anything. And I wish I could've gotten to him sooner. So he could've gone home."
"You really tried to save him?" Michizō wiped his left eye.
She nodded, a sadness similar to Michizō's own etched on her face. "I did. Once I realized what he was going to do. I started running to where he was. But I couldn't run fast enough. He was already gone. After he was cut down. I apparently tried using my ability over and over again. Until I had to be pulled away. I don't really remember anything after finding him. Not until around three years later when the doctor that I worked for back then tried to take me out of the hospital to create an immortal army. But Shachou stopped him. And Ranpo got me away from Mori."
That was a name Michizō had heard once before. In a letter from Shunzen. "That's the doctor that was leading the squad." He said slowly. "Was he…was he the one that stopped you from retreating?"
Yosano sighed. "Yes. It got to the point that, when Shunzen-san was only mildly injured, a broken arm I think. Mori shot him so I would be forced to heal him so he'd be able to keep fighting. And as of two years ago. He became the Head of the Port Mafia. The crime syndicate within this city."
Michizō felt ill hearing how much his brother and Yosano had gone through. And all at the hands of this Mori guy. "Can I hate him? Instead of you I mean."
A small smile lit up the doctor's face. "We can hate him together. How about that?" She tied off the final stitch and disposed of everything in a medical waste container. Then put on a new set of gloves to clean up Michizō's face and apply a bandage. "There. It wasn't dire enough for me to want to use my Ability on you. So there may be a scar. But your eyebrow will be healed in no time. How do you feel?"
He felt the square bandage over his stitches. "I feel okay at the moment. But. You said hatred and anger will burn me from the inside. Why are you okay with us hating Mori?"
"Because he's an asshole. And teenage rage needs a target. And I think Mori deserves our shared anger." She pat him on the cheek while she said that. "It took me a long time to stop being angry all the time. And it will take a while for you to let yourself not be angry. So until then, Mori is our enemy."
Michizō nodded slowly. "Okay." He paused before meeting her eye. "Are you angry at me for what I tried to do?"
Yosano moved her hand to squeeze his shoulder. Using the gesture to push him into lying down. "No. If I were you. And only knew what you knew. I probably would've wanted revenge too. I don't think Shachou or Ranpo are mad either. So don't worry about that. You just relax for a bit. If your head starts to hurt. Come get me. I am a doctor after all. I'll give you something for the pain if you need it."
"Okay." Guilt swirled in his chest uncomfortably. He'd been so stupid. He'd completely upended his life and caused trouble for Yosano. All because of an impulsive decision. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, Kid. You technically didn't do anything. Even though you wanted to." She gave him a sympathetic look as she put a glass of water next to him on a side table. "But. I appreciate your apology nevertheless. Now. I'll be in the office at the end of the hall. Do you want the lights on or off?"
He answered off. And once the lights were switched off and she shut the door. Michizō stared at the ceiling. He didn't know what he was going to do now. Maybe he could get a job. But who would hire a kid his age?
All he could hope was that the detectives wouldn't send him back him to his parents.
~~~~~~~~~[Yosano POV]~~~~~~~~
Akiko shut the door to the infirmary as gently as she could with her hands shaking. She had excellent control over her hands. She was a doctor. Even without her ability. But the past hour had her rattled worse than she'd been in years. It was a miracle she hadn't fucked up patching up Tachihara.
She quickly made her way into the president's office and shut the door behind her. Ranpo was sitting on one couch, Fukuzawa was at his desk. So Akiko sat opposite Ranpo. It took a few moments for her to get her nerves to calm down. The other two thankfully didn't press the issue. Once she'd calmed down enough, she cleared her throat. "He's resting."
"And are you alright, Akiko?" The president asked. "This couldn't have been easy for you."
Ranpo passed her a strawberry lollipop. A true sign he must be worried about her too. "I don't think we've seen you this rattled since we heard Mori became the head of the Port Mafia."
Pulling her hair ornament out of her pocket. She stared at it intently, wiping the spattering of blood off of the left wing with her thumb. Remembering when she was given it. "I'm alright, I think. I mean. I remember him telling me about his little brother. I never got the name though. But I never guessed that I'd ever encounter the kid. At least not like this."
"None of us could've guessed a 12 year old would want to kill you, Aki." Ranpo raised an eyebrow. His glasses shifting slightly with the movement. "This must've been weighing on him severely if the stress of realizing you weren't at fault caused an Ability to manifest. Do either of you recall how yours manifested?"
The president shook his head. "I was not aware I had one until relatively recently."
"And all I know is that I was still working in the candy shop when I learned about mine." Akiko answered while she placed the golden butterfly back in her hair. On the left side of her head.
Ranpo removed his glasses. Staring at them for several long seconds– Like he was remembering something– before replacing them on his face. "As much as I would love to turn him away or, as my mom would suggest, throw him out the window. I can't stomach the thought of turning away a kid with nowhere else to go. I've been there, and I would never subject a kid to that."
Oh God. Yeah. Akiko felt her heart ache for Ranpo. He'd technically been homeless following his expulsion from the academy. Up until he met the president and he took Ranpo in. She'd heard about how afraid Ranpo had been the first few weeks after Fukuzawa had legally become Ranpo's guardian. Like one wrong move would land him back where he'd started. Hell, Akiko had gone through the exact same thing when Fukuzawa had taken her in as well. She'd been terrified that she'd be put back in the hospital if she felt like she wasn't being useful enough.
Akiko couldn't imagine how Tachihara was feeling. Nowhere to go except the military or back to parents who apparently regularly told the kid they wished he was dead instead of Shunzen.
She was broken out of her thoughts by the president sighing. "I also feel apprehensive about turning him away. A child with nowhere to go, with a newly manifested ability. One that, if I recall correctly, is the same as his older brother's?" He looked at Akiko for confirmation.
"It appears to be. Yeah. Shunzen-san had more delicate control. But he also probably had years of practice." The Doctor answered. "Michizō likely will gain some better control as time goes on."
Fukuzawa nodded in understanding. "As I was saying. A desperate, effectively homeless child. The brother of one of those soldiers. Who, until just now, had a reason to bring harm to the agency. And specifically you, Akiko. With a newly manifested ability that is the same as his brother's. Alone in Yokohama. I don't think I need to spell out what could happen."
Both detectives grew quiet at that. He had a point. If they turned Tachihara away. It would only be a matter of time until Mori caught wind of him.
Especially with the whispers that they had all been catching wind of. That one of Mori's executives– his right hand at that– had brought two children into the fold of the Port Mafia. Children that were rumored to be around the 12-14 range. If Mori was recruiting children. Especially if the other rumors were true. That the newly established pair of executives, called Double Black, were also children. Then Tachihara needed the Agency's protection. Or he would fall into Mori's clutches.
"Aki, what do you say? You're the one he was trying to hurt." Ranpo asked her.
"I think." Akiko started. Choosing her words carefully. "He needs help. I think he is a hurt and lost child. Hell, he's younger than either of us were when you found us, Shachou. And while I can't speak for mine. Correct me if I'm wrong, Ranpo. But your parents. Did they ever make you feel like that?" She gestured in the direction of the infirmary.
Ranpo leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms, speaking around his own lollipop. "No. The worst they did was inadvertently isolate me from society at large. And even then. I understood why. My dad was a household name. He and my mom raised me in the countryside for protection. I may have hated living in the countryside with a passion. But my parents were wonderful enough to make it all worth it. And clearly we aren't any worse for wear with Shachou as a father figure."
"Be that as it may." The president rested his chin on his linked hands. Which were propped on the desk. "While I am glad you both are happy with how I raised you. What do you wish for us to do about Tachihara Michizō?"
Akiko frowned, deep in thought. "I think we should take him in. Even if only temporarily. Your Ability would be a great help in teaching him control of his. And we can definitely try to undo the damage his parents did regarding his self worth."
"Very well. We can discuss this with him once he's gotten some rest." Fukuzawa said with finality. "Our other mentees will be arriving soon. And I'd rather like to avoid having to explain why there's blood in the office."
Ranpo let out a snort. "They've witnessed Akiko threaten to vivisect me before. They'll probably assume she stabbed me."
"I've only stabbed you when you deserve it" Akiko glared at him. "And it's always your leg. When you take a handful of my fancy chocolate from me without asking. While I'm dealing with cramps. No one would blame me for that!"
Akiko could tell, as Fukuzawa shifted his hands slightly to cover his mouth as to look deep in thought, that the president was trying not to laugh. And clearly Ranpo picked up on it too. "Shachou! Don't laugh!"
The president schooled his expression long enough to give them further direction. "Why don't you two go clean up out there. And then we'll discuss the specifics on how we'll guide Tachihara. While I will make some calls about emergency guardianship papers."
"Yes, Shachou." Both detectives answered, getting up and leaving the office.
As they were about to grab the cleaning supplies. Both Akiko and Ranpo were surprised to see that Tachihara had beat them to the punch. The tween was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing at the blood like a man on a mission. The smell of cleaning solutions potent in the air.
Akiko sighed and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "What happened to resting?"
"I'm trying to make up for the trouble I caused. It's my blood. You shouldn't have to clean up my mess." Tachihara spoke like it was rehearsed.
"Kid, you're not even wearing gloves. You're going to get chemical burns on your hands." Ranpo nudged Tachihara with his foot.
Tachihara's head shot up and confusion was clear as day in those familiar amber eyes. "You're supposed to wear gloves when cleaning?"
"Yep." Akiko knelt down and grabbed Tachihara's hands gently. His palms were slowly turning red from irritation. "See, you're irritating your hands. C'mon. Let's go wash this stuff off your hands. Ranpo can handle this. And you can tell me why you aren't resting."
The kid grew visibly uncomfortable. "Kept thinking about my situation." He stood up with Akiko's help, cautiously flexing his fingers. "I probably need to find a job. But I don't know who'd hire a kid. Especially one like me. Maybe I could work in metalworking. But Dontcha have to be 18 for that? I'll never pass for that old."
"Yeah. No way you'd pass for any older than 14 at most. And that's pushing it, kid." Akiko shoved Tachihara out into the hallway and towards the kitchenette. "Wash your hands."
Tachihara pouted and did as he was told. "Yes ma'am."
Akiko felt her soul wither at that. "Don't call me 'ma'am'! I'm only 18!" Was this how Fukuzawa felt when she and Ranpo called him old? If so, she had a lot of apologizing to do.
"What do I call you then?" Tachihara asked awkwardly. "I don't really interact with a lot of people. So…"
She thought for a moment. While Akiko was very proud to be a doctor. It would be a little awkward for this kid to constantly be calling her 'Doctor Yosano' or 'Sensei'. It was bad enough the other two kept calling her that. "You can just call me Akiko if you want."
The brunet blinked at her, his hands frozen mid-drying. "Isn't that a little informal? Especially since not even half an hour ago I was trying to kill you?"
Before she could respond. The sound of the elevator stopping and opening interrupted the conversation. Followed by the sounds of two voices talking animatedly.
"I keep telling you. You're more than welcome to join me and Takekoshi for our walks!"
"Oh yeah. That's smart. I can see it now. 'Hey, Takekoshi. Good to see you. How's it going? Oh, me? I'm here to third wheel on your moonlit walks. Yeah. Doppo insisted.' Be for real, Doppo." The other voice responded sarcastically.
The person that the first voice belonged to groaned. "They aren't dates! He's my friend. I swear, Katai. You're being ridiculo- Oh, hey. Why's the kitchen light on?"
The two new arrivals popped their heads around the doorframe into the kitchenette. One was a tall and gangly teenager with blond hair tied back in a ponytail, and green eyes behind rectangular glasses. The other was a slightly shorter teen with dark unkempt hair and greyish-brown eyes behind round frames. Both teens were wearing the uniforms of one of the high schools within the city.
"Kunikida, Tayama. Good afternoon." Akiko smirked. "Please. Tell me all the hot gossip about this Takekoshi. I'm dying for fresh gossip."
The teens entered the kitchenette and kept staring at the scene before them. Kunikida was the first to speak. "Good afternoon, Yosano-sensei! There's no gossip to be had. Katai is just being stubborn."
"I am not!" Katai whined. "Doppo is being obtuse! You don't go on moonlit walks with someone casually!"
Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose, which made his glasses ride up his face. "I know that! But we have conflicting schedules and that's the only time we get to hang out outside of school. And I want the three of us to hang out together." He held up his other hand. "Not important. We can talk about this later. Yosano-sensei, what's with the kid?"
"Who are you calling a kid!?" Tachihara huffed, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "I'll have you know I'm almost 13!"
Kunikida looked up over his hand, an eyebrow raised. "Okay? I'm almost 16, and Katai is 16. What's your point? You look like a stray that lost a fight. Probably a delinquent"
Katai scuffed the blond upside the head. "Pot calling the kettle black! You're an actual delinquent. Or have you forgotten why we're interns here?!"
"As amusing as this is, boys. Let me speak." Akiko made the gesture for time-out before gesturing to the two older teenage boys. "Tachihara-kun. These are Tayama Katai and Kunikida Doppo. They're interns here because someone punched a cop and Shachou arranged for Kunikida to work here in place of community service. And Tayama goes wherever Kunikida goes."
Both high school students stuck their tongues out at her. The older of the two speaking first. "I keep him in check."
"The hell you do! You told me to punch that cop!"
"You have absolutely no proof of that! The street cameras all mysteriously had their footage wiped."
Akiko cleared her throat. "Boys. Let me finish."
"Yes, Yosano-sensei."
"As I was saying." She moved her hand to gesture to Tachihara. "You two. This is Tachihara Michizō. He came here to kill me. But he had a change of heart. Manifested an ability. Lost a fight with my hair ornament. Shachou's going to be his guardian for the foreseeable future."
"WHAT?!" All three boys shouted at once. For obviously different reasons.
Ah. Perhaps she should've told Tachihara that information before anything else.