A blog for Brutal: Confessions of a Homicide Investigator which is centred around the small fandom of the crime thriller manga. The story follows Hiroki Dan, a handsome but eccentric detective who moonlights as a justice killer for those unable to be adequately prosecuted by the law. Gothic, violent, with a dash of dark humour, if you like shows such as Hannibal, Killing Eve, or Dexter, this is a series you will enjoy. If you have any questions, please feel free to DM me, and I will answer them to the best of my abilities. Remember, if you do good deeds, you will feel blessed. (18+)
I don't follow you but I did see your first kirin fic and it stuck with me for a long time! I'm so glad you're okay and this blog is not abandoned ^^
おかえり! !
I laughed for a solid minute after reading this 😂. My program has been pretty hectic this year (I don't think words can convey how much I hate writing 20 to 30-page papers; I swear my hair might be falling out). But this blog is definitely not abandoned, and I am so glad you enjoyed my fic :). Thank you so much for welcoming me back! Let's hope together that we might get some more Dan action next year.
Contains: Continuing story and Gender Neutral Reader
General warning: Long-post
TW: Possessiveness/Suicide/Implied grooming
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful crow. Her wings were like the tips of quills freshly dipped, and her claws sharper than the hook of a fisherman's rod—a perfect little bird. Everywhere she went, the forest's creatures would glance at her in astonishment and envy; no owl, robin or dove could compare. The crow knew this and, for a time, enjoyed their praise. What was love, if not the wish to capture? The desire to own what you could not own yourself? Yet, as the days went by, she could not help but feel unsatisfied, for none would approach her, and, eventually, she found herself an idle idol. That was until, one fateful morning, a hunter entered the wood. The man searched far and wide for the perfect game but would deem all beasts crossing his path too dull, ordinary, and a waste of his talents. His frustrations grew until his eyes fell upon the beautiful crow. Having never seen such perfection, the man raised his gun and decided such magnificence could not exist without his consent. In that final breath, staring down the barrel of the rifle, the crow realized a terrible truth: She had finally experienced her first and last act of true love.
You would like to think you will meet again one day, perhaps in a better place, surrounded by the fragrance of the buna tree.
A memory:
Under the branches, as the rain fell, he leaned his head against your shoulders:
"Do you love me?"
"Only in summer."
There is a strange beauty in defeat. To give up and to let go is an art so painful and euphoric that few can ever master the discipline. Yet, you could not help but try. You had to say goodbye to a bit of life, an old name, to live once again. Sometimes, still, you could smell the hints of a campfire if you closed your eyes for long enough.
After finishing university and moving away from your relative who took you in, you travelled around Japan for a while. It took years to get used to the constant hustle and bustle of the world, and you often felt displaced in the city's hectic life compared to the countryside you grew up in. However, life had finally returned to a somewhat more peaceful state. Not exactly familiar, but it was a softer difference. Recently, you were appointed as a history teacher in a small-town high school. It was a safer career than you had once dreamed of, but it would keep you hidden. That's all that mattered. You enjoyed the mountains near the town.
When you first arrived, some things were unexpectedly painful. The starting months felt like a constant exorcism, a battle not to jump and think you summoned the ghosts of old friends whenever a student came up to ask a question. But the pain was comforting in a way. They had lived and affected the world around them. Even if it was silently, you could carry their legacy and find forgiveness in supplying a future to others. A future they were denied. This was your cleansing.
The students on their end were pleasant, consistently hard-working and upbeat. And, of course, over time, you developed favourites: the creative Hana Kai, the outspoken Yuki Yamamoto, and, especially, the thoughtful Nanami Shirakawa.
Strangely, even with your reservations about closeness, you became rather popular, even finding, at the end of some classes, notes left on your desk:
Dear Teacher,
Thank you for the class.
Dear Teacher,
I am glad you are feeling better.
Dear Teacher,
Please smile more often.
Despite years of developing a numb compliance with life, you could not help but feel touched. It was nice to be liked and somewhat accepted back into a community, even if it was only a false image they loved.
However, you could not help but wonder what they would do if they knew that one of their favourite teachers, at night, away from their wool sweaters and bad jokes, dreamt of stone cottages and warm summers? How could they understand how your mind was captured by the sea and the calling of the woods? Even worse, you couldn't imagine their judgment if they knew of the gray eyes that haunted your subconscious. A demon. Shuten-dōji with a laugh:
I could just die for you. I could just kill for you. And I could just love you until the end. I am you, and you are me. Cut off my head, and I'll grow another on the back of your mind.
You would wake in terror and yearning. Most nights, you could not go back to sleep. Instead, you would find yourself sitting at the kitchen table, marking or reading anything to suppress the sweet evil lurking behind your fantasies. You had to forget before you lost yourself to dreams.
In the waking world, you distracted yourself with a growing hatred for the biology teacher, Taisuke Henkyoji. In all fairness, it appeared he despised you in return when it became clear you would not fawn over him.
He was from a wealthy family with designer clothes, fancy watches, and a carefree attitude. His name was seen everywhere, from the hospital where his brother, Kusuke, worked as the chairman to the only hotel within town. It was a world so far removed from small village roots, worn clothes, and scuffed shoes that you wondered if you could even find it on a metaphorical map.
However, you could not help but see how he only possessed a dull attractiveness, only passively acknowledged until placed in a position of power. Therefore, it didn't surprise you that he was popular among teenage girls. Yet, out of all those teenagers, you could not help but worry about one in particular. The thoughtful Nanami Shirakawa, who was awkward and sweet, with big dreams and an introverted personality, which reminded you of someone you had to bury so long ago.
Sometimes, you would catch her absent-mindedly doodling hearts in her notebook or fiddling with her phone with a wistful smile. Other times, while walking the halls, you would pass her peaking into Henkyoji's classroom. It was clear she was infatuated with the man.
It was a worrying love. Innaproate and not helped by Henkyoji's overly friendly and even disturbingly flirtatious behaviour. You had even tried to warn him of Nanami's feelings:
"You need to shut her down gently, Henkyoji-san. This whole situation is unhealthy."
"And you care, why? Jealous?"
Of what? That comment made you immediately uncomfortable. You tried to go to the principal, who also quickly dismissed your concerns:
"Henkyoji-san is from a highly regarded family. Such a suggestion could sully not only their image but the school's reputation," - a sigh- "There is nothing to worry about, Y/N... especially if the only evidence you have is an off-hand comment and the crush of a teenage girl. Please, don't bring this topic up again."
Yet, it echoed in your mind when you noticed how sullen Shirakawa had started to become. There was a growing dullness behind her eyes, a letting go that was much like yours. You could see a dangerous defeatism.
After class one day, as you saw the young girl merely gaze at her desk the entire lesson, neither moving to take notes nor really paying attention, you decided it would best to ask her to talk:
" Shirakawa-Kun, I just wanted to know if you are feeling okay," You tried to smile empathically, "I know it can be awkward talking to your teacher."
"I am sorry, " she rubbed her eyes harshly. " I am just drained." You could see the fear behind her expression. An invisible subject, something cold and dead whose images reflected back a once firey disposition that burnt itself out into ash.
"Shirakawa-Kun, I apologize for being so direct, but I know something is wrong."
"I really am okay," she paused for a second, fiddling with her bag, "I really have to get home...my mother needs me to help...she'll be worried if I am held up for too long."
You sighed, realizing any further conversation was a losing battle, "This may seem unorthodox...but please take my number," you pulled out a piece of paper and began to write, "If you need someone to talk to, call me, and we can set up a time to meet in my office."
"Thank you." She took what you handed her with a slight reluctance and placed it in her pocket
"Please, even if it's not me, know you do not have to handle this alone. I know what it's like to feel the world crashing into you. I promise."
You closed your eyes as she left and sighed. I know what it's like to love and fear someone in the same breath. I know what it's like to be alone.
It was easy to imagine him there next to you, as you often did, clothed in black, in a nice jacket, and without colour save for his red lips. Ah, what would you do? Is this what you felt like? Fragmented?
You could not sleep that night. Sitting at your kitchen table, reading, until at 1 A.M, a single message appeared on your phone:
Dear Teacher,
Thx for everything.
It was nice to know someone cares.
I hope you have a good night.
-Shirakawa
When morning came, you were unsurprised that Shirakawa was absent from class. However, you could not have imagined the reason the headmaster pulled you out of your homeroom.
"Why would she try to kill herself?"
"She's a teenager, Y/N! I have no idea why she would do such a thing; I just called you in to let you know about the situation. Do not discuss this with anyone but the staff."
"It was him, wasn't it..."
"I said not to bring such a topic up again!"
"You can't ignore this forever! Please, just listen to me!"
"Go. Back. To. Class. We will pretend this never happened."
Guilt spread throughout your body as if you were drowning. How could you have turned away? Why did you not write back? You felt yourself transform into a frightful and hideous creature that had been tied to the buna tree so many years ago. A coward. A failure. Another child almost died because you didn't act fast enough. Kikue. Reo. I'm sorry.
You had cut class early that day and ran to the hospital. My fault. It's all my fault. You needed to apologize in person. You needed to ask Shirakawa. You needed to know the truth. Fuck Taisuke Henkyoji.
Dishevelled, sweating, and breathless, you ran to the front desk and requested the room number.
"Are you...okay?"
"Please, I'm here to see Nanami Shirakawa," - a breath- " I'm one of her teachers,"
The woman at the desk looked annoyed, "Well, you're lucky. It seems she's currently taking visitors; let me phone up the room...I'm not paid enough for this-"
A voice...soft... melodious...that itched your memory interrupted, "Is everything alright here?" No...You could not speak. Your throat refused to open. The world swam for a second.
"Sir, were just up to see Ms. Shirakawa?"
He was beautiful. He looked just like him.
"Yes, she seems to be doing...well...as one would expect in such a situation."
"Hmmm," she hummed, uninterested, "Sorry to ask this of you as a civilian, but since you are here, could you please assist...who were you again?"
"Shirakawa's history teacher," You replied shakingly. It's not him. It cannot be him.
"Your name?" The woman rolled her eyes.
You took a deep breath. You had changed your name when you lived with your relative. You were not you anymore, even if it was him somehow, "Y/N."
"Y/N?" The man turned to you fully. Shuten-dōji. He looked like your Shuten-dōji, "What a..." He paused as if startled before quickly composing himself, "Lovely name..."
"It's pretty common," He looked at you with such intensity you thought the ground would swallow you up. It can't be him. It wouldn't make sense for him to be here. You were literally in the middle of nowhere.
The lady at the desk signed, "Well, you two are very sweet, but if you could kindly take Y/N up to see Shirakawa, that would be very helpful. I have to talk another call...so..."
The man gave the woman a bland smile and beckoned you to follow him. You could feel the sweat build upon the back of your neck; his grey eyes followed you like a snake to a mouse, refusing to let you out of his sight.
"You didn't ask me for my name,"
"I'm sorry?"
"My name, would you like to know it?"
"Oh, my apologies. I'm just a bit scattered today,"
"That's understandable, considering..."
"Yes, considering I would like to know your name."
The man laughed and mumbled, "You sound just like them...look just like them... you could even think," A distant look filled his expression, "It's like looking at a photograph," He seemed to catch himself, "Ah, sorry, I had a close friend that left me many years ago; I lost myself for a moment. I believe we are both scattered today."
You wanted to change the subject as soon as possible. A coincidence. It has to be. The world wouldn't be so cruel. The Kirin would not be so cruel.
"How do know Shirakawa-kun?"
"I saved her from drowning."
"What?!"
"I'm a very strong swimmer." He glanced at you with subtle amusement, and then a look of distant grief entered his eyes. "My name is Dan Hiroki." You stopped. No. "Is something wrong?" Yes. Something is very fucking wrong.
"Oh, it's nothing...It's been just a long day..." You needed to leave as soon as possible, "Actually, I just remembered I forgot something at home-"
"Hmmm," He hummed as if thinking, "I think you should see Shirakawa-kun." He stopped and grabbed your arm as if trying to ensure you could not flee. His grey eyes, searching as if trying to figure something out, "I fear she needs all the moral support she can get right now."
You bit your lip hard, thinking of a way to escape this. Fuck. What if he recognized you? What would he do? A man capable of killing without remorse, you shivered just imagining the type of torture he would inflict. How could you leave without looking suspicious? "It..." Shit. "Your right. However, I really can't stay for long."
He continued to walk, not letting go of your arm, until stopping before the elevator, "You really do look just like them...It's been so long...ah, memories... memories, a cruel mistress."
"I can't imagine," the evaluator dinged.
"Fufu, for some reason," He pulled you inside, "I feel like you might," You could feel the red string of fate being pulled, "Yes, I would love to get to know you, Y/N."
You would like to think you would have met again one day, perhaps in a better place, surrounded by the fragrance of the buna tree. You never thought you would meet in a hospital. You never thought he wouldn't recognize you.
A memory:
"Please don't cut off my head, Minamoto no Yorimitsu"
"I promise, but only in summer."
One day, you thought you would meet again, surrounded by summer.
A memory:
"Tell him I died. He would come looking for me otherwise. You know why I am asking this. Don't let me bring you shame. Please let me go."
The ride is silent until the final ding. He smiles at you once you reach the right floor.
A memory:
"Y/N, wait for me next summer?"
"You know I always will be here.
His left eye twitches and his smile grows.
"Shall we go see your student?" He pulls your arm gently, his now fully lopped with your own.
"I don't think I have much of a choice."
"Be careful, Y/N," He chuckles darkly, "I might just grow fond of you."
"There is nothing to be fond of."
You walked out together and felt his hand tighten around your bicep as if worried you would run away.
A memory:
A place filled with tiny stone houses, crumbling temples, and giant windmills with rotor blades like dragons' teeth, gnawing away at the occasional gale.
"Do you believe in the Kirin?"
"I believe humans are cruel, and Gods are crueller."
The red string of fate tugged again as you headed towards the hospital room and into an unknown future.
You fear Dan would never let you go if he discovered your true identity. You feared much worse than death. There truly is a strange beauty in defeat.
A memory:
This was your home. All you could ever want.
"Hey, Y/N, look up! There's a flock of crows."
"Actually, I think it's called a murder."
Contains: Gender Neutral Reader and Age Difference
General warning: Medium-length post (1,461 words)
TW: Possessiveness/Yandere vibes
Characters: Hiroki Dan and You
– There is a theory called The Green World by Northrop Fry. It's actually quite simple. Shakespeare's comedies follow a structure: in spring, the fertility month, the characters transition from the everyday world, faced with societal bondage, to the wild, where everything becomes topsy turvy, back to the ordinary world renewed and unbound. As you skimmed your class, you couldn't help but wonder if the same theory also applied to your life. This moment did feel wild.
– The semester is your first as a teacher at one of Toyko's most highly regarded private high schools, and according to the curious stares from your students, they don't know what to make of you. It sets you on edge. Yet, there is also great excitement as you finally have fulfilled your dream of educating the next generation after years of studying. Is there a word for both terror and elation? Perhaps euphoria? It did once mean to be removed from one's body. However, frisson seems to settle in your mind. Your hair does feel on end.
– One..two...three...breath...one...two...three...breath. You repeat this phrase over and over again as you start your lesson. This subject is your favourite, and not to brag, but you are an expert in this field; the school would have never hired you otherwise, and the parents would have you fired, flayed, and put out front as a warning for everyone else. Even some universities would pale in comparison. These are households of politicians, millionaires, and businessmen. The top of the top and greatness ensures they only produce greatness, or at least the image of it.
– Everything seems to be going well; to your surprise, the kids are actively engaged, yet you cannot help but sense an uneasiness. You feel dissected, like a butterfly being prepped for a display case. When turning around, an intensity makes you pause over a word to prevent a stutter. You swear unseen hands are rushing over your body as if to hold you and say, "Stay still; I deserve to look," for what reason you don't know. It's nerves, you tell yourself, focus on the lesson; you can't mess up the first class.
– But it happens again during the next lesson. Then, the one after that. Again and again until finally, when handing back the first assignment, you meet the cause after class.
– It was Autumn when the weather couldn't decide if it wished to be hot or cold, the leaves turning into a violent swarm of reds and oranges as if the trees were on fire. It had been a long day; you had to send someone to the head office for interrupting class, forgot your lunch, and were stuck grading papers. The only people still here were after-school clubs and occasionally teachers you heard walking in the halls.
– You were so absorbed in your work that you couldn't help but jump when you felt a tap on your shoulder and a soft "Excuse me" in your ear. Looking up in shock, you are surprised to see a man...well, a teenager. Handsome for his age, most likely eighteen and in his final year, with a shock of dark hair and eyes against pale skin, a warm smile breaks the otherwise monochrome facade. An image of Adder Snake flashes in your mind when he tilts his head and beams...it is as if he enjoyed scaring you.
– "Oh, I'm sorry, professor," he places a hand over his heart and straightens, "I merely wanted to get your attention." His eyes are so black that you can see your own startled reflection, and despite being in a more senior position, how small you look compared to this boy. You hate it.
– "It's fine," you look at the clock, "it's past five; shouldn't you be heading home, or is there something I can help you with?" You attempt to clean your desk to make it look moderately presentable. In reality, you wanted to seem busy so you didn't have to look him in the eye again. There was something profoundly unnerving about how he could pin you down with merely a look.
– His hand moves gracefully into his bag and pulls out a piece of paper; you recognize it as the recently returned assignment from your afternoon class. He places it delicately on your desk, atop the other essays you were grading. Pompous little shit, you couldn't help but think. You tilt over and see the grade, a ninety-five, the highest score you gave out recently.
– Picking up the paper, you hold it out for the student to take back, "It was very well-written and researched, particularly the second paragraph. Congratulations..." You quickly glance at the paper, hopefully discreetly, "Hiroki-kun." The name settled in your mouth like honey, sticking to your throat unpleasantly despite how sweet it sounded.
– He leans against the desk, the same plain smile upon his face and a light chuckle escaping his upturned lips. There is an uneasiness in the air, that pressure you felt during the day in increments, dilating in this very moment.
– "Thank you," he moves closer, and you realize the door is closed; who shut it? "But I wanted to ask," Closer, "what could I have done to have gained that extra five percent?"
– "I..." You feel speechless, your face hot from panic, "Well...you could've shortened it, perhaps?" Say anything to get him to leave.
– "That's it?"
– "It was written very well; I wouldn't worry about your grade."
– He takes the paper and folds it absent-mindedly, "I will take it to heart," as if to prove it, he holds the essay to his chest, "You are my favourite teacher here, and any advice you give me is a great help." To your horror, he looks somewhat bashful. Yet, it would be a lie to say it didn't stroke your ego.
– You clear your throat, "Thank you, but it is getting late-"
– "Let me walk you to your bike." You wonder how he knew you biked to school? "My father is the police superintendent General, and I am also heading out; I don't want someone so..." He looks down to where you are sitting, "vulnerable to walk outside by themselves."
– You weighed the options in your head. Saying no could hurt your reputation; this was the kid of a high-ranking official, and if you pissed off Daddy, you would be fired on the spot. Was it unnerving and inappropriate? Yes. But you couldn't think of a way to worm your way out of this dilemma. It was a true dichotomy.
– "I wouldn't want to burden a young man like yourself...."
– His smile stretched wider, so vast you could count each pearly white tooth. What big teeth you have..." It would be my pleasure."
– Hiroki demanded to carry your briefcase and, while you walked, asked miscellaneous questions about your life. How old are you? Do you live alone? Are you Married? How far do you live from campus? You tried to answer him subtly, attempting to dodge the questions with little skill. You cursed the school for being so big and your pupil for being such a slow walker.
– Ten minutes later, you reach your bike. Or where it should have been. Nothing but the chain was attached to the fence. You look around and quickly conclude that someone has stolen it. Man, I'm a fucking genius, you thought sarcastically, but you had to Act professionally. Act bloody professional. Oh, God, how in the living hell would you get back to your dingy little apartment?
– "People these days," Hiroki shook his head, "my father has been trying to tamper down the rise in petty crime such as this," he slung your case over his shoulder, "but it seems he has a long way to go."
– You pushed your forehead in stress, "It's fine, I'll just take public transport." And it would be awful in that crowded cart filled with annoyed people.
– "Nonsense," He turned and started to walk towards the parking lot; in confusion, you began to follow him, "I own a car, and someone like yourself wouldn't be safe on public transport." He looked over his shoulder, and you felt your stomach sink, "I'll drive you home." Shit.
– "It's fine, really. Plus, you're a student-"
– "My father would never forgive me if I left you in such a state. Alone. Defenceless. I mean," He stopped and turned. Suddenly, you recognized how tall and broad he was as he towered over you. "I could attack you right now, and you would have no way to defend yourself." His left eye twitched softly like he trying to keep a particular thought at bay, and you felt your lungs freeze, "But you're lucky," He chuckled, "I would never harm my favourite teacher." The air seemed to stop momentarily as if the sky held its breath for what he would say next. "I only want to do a good deed," Another laugh, "They make me feel blessed," and softly grabbing your hand and bringing it to his cheek, he tilted his head into your palm, whispering, "Won't you bless me, teacher?"
– You wondered if Northrop Fry had a theory on Shakespearian tragedy. What dark world were you being brought into by those eyes?
Dan's sexuality isn't addressed in the manga except for the vague "beloveded." If we take the outside sources (the Trace series), which makes him attracted to "despair and pain," he seems interested in a male love interest. However, he still doesn't desire to perform any sexual acts, and even when he does act somewhat sexually (don't get me started on the frat-boy arc), it's more done to assert dominance rather than out of attraction. With this evidence, I would actually guess he's either demisexual or asexual with bi-romantic leanings. However, I wouldn't be surprised if the author/artist wanted to hint at Dan being gay but didn't want to make it explicit so they didn't drive away more conservative readers (even tho there is extreme violence, but then again, homophobes are weird).
I won't lie or pretend to be ignorant that if Brutal does confirm Dan's sexuality as either Asexual or Homosexual, it would have problematic associations: Asexuals always being villains and Homosexuality being predatory. Does this mean that Dan shouldn't be interpreted this way? No. If someone wants to write Dan as any sexuality, that is their choice. Moreover, just because a character may fall into certain stereotypes doesn't mean they can't be portrayed respectfully and with nuance. Hannibal, I think, is a pretty good example of this concept. Hannibal is omnisexual; he's also a cannibal, murderer, and pretty sexually prolific. Bryan Fuller clarifies that Hannibal's sexuality has nothing to do with the fact that he's a terrible person. He's a serial killer who happens to be a part of LGBTQ+ community; he's not a serial killer because he's a member of it. I think Dan, if we choose to write about him as a part of this community, these stereotypes and how they are portrayed should be kept in mind.
TLDR: I would say he's either demisexual or asexual with bi-romantic leanings
I know some of you are wondering when Brutal is going to update. Sadly, it seems we are on an indefinite hiatus due to the fact I cannot find anything on a new date after the last one passed. Sorry for the bad news. Here's hoping, at the very least, we get something before 2023!
Re-blogging this again to inform people the reason why there has been a hiatus is due to the author’s health, I believe. From some translated sources, it seems he hasn’t been doing well physically. Here’s hoping he makes a full recovery!
FINAALLLYYYYY someone else who loves dan hiroki + the brutal manga :))
YES! I haven’t been able to update lately due to how hectic school has been, but I’m always excited to see others interested in the manga ❤️ Hiroki Dan is the best kind of fucked up 👌😩
I know some of you are wondering when Brutal is going to update. Sadly, it seems we are on an indefinite hiatus due to the fact I cannot find anything on a new date after the last one passed. Sorry for the bad news. Here's hoping, at the very least, we get something before 2023!
Pov: You see Dan at the computer. He is red-faced and breathing heavy. You wonder what the hell he could be looking at for him to be ~reacting that way~ so you sneak behind him and see this:
bitches will be like “i love my blorbos they mean so much to me 🥺 🥺 🥺” and then draw them in complete and utter anguish having the worst time of their lives.
