They can get spiky when threatened, raising their spines and inflicting a painful wound.
They are thought to be monogamous, mating for life with one partner. They are herbivore and feed on algae and coral and they grow up to a maximum of 30 cm.
Ypu can find them in the indo-pacific region, around Australian and the Philippines.
genre: Smut? porn with plot type shit
wc: 2000+ (and im not done)
warnings: gay sex, fingering, oral (male r) kissing, thigh riding, Bottom!Dean, Top!Castiel, slight vourerism (Sam mentioned), tensionnnnn, i drag this out for ridiculously long, needy!Dean
let me know if i missed anything!
This is heavily inspired by the start of another fantastic fic i read "Dean can('t) explain, or Sam consider homophobia" on AO3! or you can find it on @colorlessjay-destielblog!
this is not a finished work, but i wanted to post it anyway.
Destiel?
Dean wasn't gay. No. No Way. At least, that was what he told himself. Yeah, he’d find himself checking out the occasional dude, but it was, like- in a guy way, y’know? not a “hey, you look good ;)”-way, no, not at all. More in a “hm, nice.”-way. But again, when was he correct about these things? So when their feathered friend named Castiel showed up, Dean tried to convince himself that it was just his vessel that was conventionally attractive. But then again, Dean only found himself truly comfortable around him or Sam. Mostly him. (“him” being Cas). Dean and Cas shared a habit of staring at each other, a lot, like, a lot a lot. Poor Sam often had to snap them out of their totally-not-gay eye-fucking most of the time, and it wasn’t for the weak to watch either. So, of course, Sam could only assume things were happening behind closed doors. (which if asked, Dean would have killed you on sight).
So Dean was negatively surprised when he found condoms in various sizes - since Sam had no idea what they needed, and frankly didn’t want to, either - and a note that read “for you and feathers, try not to get too loud. -Sam.”. God, he was going to kill that guy. Dean threw most of them out, but of course kept the ones in his size, since you never know what kind of hot chick is going to show up on a hunt, eh? And Sam seemed almost disappointed that Dean and Cas didn’t finally get it on, well, it was going to be difficult for them, since Cas had little to no knowledge about the emotional aspect of sex, hell - the emotional aspect of anything, really.
But after the boys met Charlie - a lesbian - Dean was accepting, of course, but he actually started to question himself, was he gay? no, of course not. You’re Dean Winchester, The womanizer. So, of course not…. Right? Dean would think about it for short periods of time, then quickly suppress it again. Like John was going to find him simply because he Might like pecs and dicks instead of boobs and vertical lips. But he found himself more and more drawn to the winged creature that happened to be a male angel, checking him out, eye-fucking for just a tad longer, (maybe also brushing his hand against his ass but- Shhhhhhhhhhhh, that never happened.) and as this ridiculous situation went on, Dean had to give in and admit to himself that he had a crush on the guy. Guy. and getting crammed together every hunt didn’t help his case at all.
But a horrifying realisation set in for Dean.
Girls weren’t doing it for him anymore!
Oh fuck. Dean had been internally panicking when he realised this, and continued to internally panic for days after. And of course his guardian angel could sense this. Great. Now Cas thought Dean was struggling with something, which he was. But still. So, one day Cas found Dean in the Impala, unbeknownst to the angel - he was getting ready to get off, to the thought of none other than Castiel himself - so Cas knocked, and opened the door like a civil creature, and sat down in the front passenger seat, much to the human’s surprise.
“Dean, you know I can sense when you are upset or distressed, correct?” The angel asked in his usual monotone voice. “uh– yeah, yeah, you’ve told me.” Dean replied, voice thick with nervousness, and something the angel couldn’t place. Dean shifted a little, trying to hide the hard bulge in his jeans, luckily Cas was too busy being worried to notice how horny the human was. Cas kept talking and talking, and talking, about Dean and his well-being, about him and his angelic abilities, ect ect. But Dean’s gaze was only pointed at his lips or lower.God, he had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life, it was actually pathetic. So when he finally got tired of the angel’s talking, he grabbed his chin with a calloused hand, forcing him to shut up and look at him. “Cas, I swear to god if you don't shut up I'm going to shut you up.” Dean snapped, clearly annoyed that he was interrupted when he was about to “choke the chicken”. Cas paused for a second, thinking it over, Then, in that damned monotone voice he has; “I do not see how this has any relevance to me being able to sense your distress.”
God he was going to kill that bird. They were both silent for a good, long while, just staring at each other, Dean trying to hide his erection. Cas pulled his eyebrows together as he always did. “I sense an underlying tone of lust, Dean, what is going on?” He asked, oblivious to how the bow-legged hunter wanted to ravish him and drain him grace (and maybe something else, wink wink). “shut up Cas, im fine– im not– im not lusting for anyone.” (a lie) Dean finally realised he was still holding the angel's chin, and quickly let go, but the angel did not move from his position, if anything, He got closer. Which in turn made Dean pulse race, which Cas could feel.
“your pulse, it is racing. Are you sure you are okay?” Dean was leaning back, to try and stop Cas from getting too close, but the soldier of Heaven didn’t receive the message, only leaning closer, so in the end, Cas was practically on top of Dean. And Dean was struggling to think straight as Castiel practically pinned him against the seat.
“Cas, please-” Dean choked out, trying not to let his voice crack, as his big green eyes met the piercing blue of the angel. “Please What, Dean? you are not making any sense. Why are you feeling so much desire from this? and your pulse is dangerously fast. I suggest calming down” Dean was trying, he really was. But god, those eyes, those lips, his everything, really. Dean was so down bad, it was actually laughable. But Dean did not find it funny as the angel leaned down closer, to check
on him, since he looked pretty damn out of it. His eyes glazed and hazy, pupils blown wide, freckled cheeks flushed, chest practically heaving as Castiel straddled him. Dean had to resist everything in him not to kiss the man, to pull him down and taste his lips, tug on his hair and hear him moan, but what Castiel said next broke his train of thought. “Dean, why are you feeling such overwhelming lust? Is this normal for humans in this position?” that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Dean surged up, capturing Castiel's lips in a heated kiss, his lips moving frantically as his hands desperately scrambled to hold on to some part of the angel, any part. Cas was confused, but kissed back as best as he could. It was clumsy and uncoordinated, but the heat was there. Dean found purchase in the front of Castiel’s coat as he pulled him down and kissed him as if he were drowning, and Cas was air.
But of course, Cas was inexperienced in sex, and therefore it was just a little awkward when Dean put Cas in the backseat, riding his thigh like a desperate whore, and marking up his neck in a way that made Cas groan at the new sensation. Dean’s ruts and kisses became more ragged and frenzied as he chased his own high, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach as his orgasm came closer. And suddenly when Cas tensed his thigh, Dean ground down just right.
The coil snapped. Dean’s orgasm washes over him in violent waves as he buries his face in Cas’s shoulder, biting down to keep himself from screaming and possibly alerting Sam - much to the angel's surprise.- When it’s finally over, Dean’s chests heaves, fuck he thought. He looked up at Castiel, big, hazy green eyes staring right into those cold, blue eyes, they looked a little like ice. Dean laughed breathlessly as Cas tilted his head in confusion “I don’t see the humorous part in your orgasm. Did it get to your head?” Dean laugh again, a little pleasure-drunk, and kissed his cheek “Nah feathers, you just look fuckin’ adorable. Now let me take care of you.” Dean smirked as he crawled off the confused and slightly flustered angel, sinking to his knees in front of him.
Dean smirked and began undoing Cas’s slacks. Castiel tilted his head in confusion “Dean, why are you undressing me?” The angel asked, his voice filled with confusion. "Shhhhh, just let me take care of you” Dean whispered softly, pulling his slacks and boxers down just enough to free him. His cock sprung free, tip flushed with a bead of pre-come already forming, it wasn’t small either. Dean’s mouth suddenly went dry at the sight, and he subconsciously licked his lips, oh he was going to enjoy this.
He slowly leaned forward, making kitten licks at the flushed and leaking tip, which in turn made Castiel shiver. “Dean, what are you doing?” Cas asked, voice thick and low, he was confused but he couldn't deny that the sensations were affecting him. Dean began slowly circling his flushed and weeping tip with his tongue. Castiel’s grip on the edge of the seat tightens as his breathing starts picking up the pace “Dean, you- these sensations- i-” he gasps as Dean takes his tip in behind the plum, kiss flushed lips. Dean sucks gently, giving just enough to make Castiel really feel it. Cas clenches his jaw, this is new, it’s overwhelming. But he doesn't want it to stop. Dean slowly takes him deeper, savoring the feeling, the taste. Okay, this is definitely gay, but I don't even care anymore. Dean thought to himself as he took him deeper. Cas closed his eyes, trying only to focus on the warm, wet and tight sensation of the human’s mouth. Eventually the tip of Cas’s flushed dick hit the back of Dean’s throat, and Dean had to fight not to gag at the foreign sensation. Castiel practically threw his head back and clenched his jaw to keep all noise in as Dean took his previously untouched cock into his mouth, and almost down his throat.
“Dean-” Castiel moaned, actually moaned. Dean froze for approximately two seconds, before turning up the intensity, desperate to hear more of those beautiful noises. Castiel could feel a strange new heat building in his stomach as the hunter continued his oral attack on the poor angel. “Dean, i- i feel a building sensation-” Castiel managed to gasp out as Dean didn’t let up his pace for a second. He smiled around Cas’s cock, he knew by the way the feathered creature’s cock twitched in his mouth. Let go sweetheart, let go. Dean though as he continued taking him down his throat. And like a rubber band stretched too far, it snapped. Dean’s mouth was filled with Castiel’s salty release, a little leaking out the corner of his mouth as he pulled off.
Castiel was shaking slightly from the overwhelming sensation, panting hard, even though angels don’t really need to breathe. It felt necessary. Then, just as Dean was about to swallow, the car door opened “Dean? are you in- what the fuck?!” Sam explained, staring horrified at the situation. Dean swallowed before speaking -well, he tried to speak, but Cas cut him off- “hello -pant- Sam” The Sam in question was absolutely horrified at what he was witnessing. “What the fuck, Dean? god- you could’ve just said so- i dont- fuck.” He slammed the door shut. Rude. Dean thought to himself, he then turned to Cas, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, as he began cleaning the angel up and re-dressing him.
________________________________________________________________
Days after the initial encounter. Dean couldn’t stop thinking about him, about how his cock fit so well in his mouth, how beautiful he looked when he came, how hilariously horrified Sam had been (Who had been doing his best to avoid the two for the past few days). They finished up the hunt they were currently on and got back to the bunker, and Dean could safely jerk off the thought that it was Cas with him, Cas’s mouth instead of his own hand, Cas’s hand, The tight hole Dean hoped to one day penetrate (or have his own penetrated).
So when one day, after the ruffle of feathers announcing the angel’s arrival. Before Dean could even get a word out “I have been studying male pleasure over the past few days, would you like me to try on you? God yes I want you to try on me, do whatever you want with me. Dean thought to himself as he nodded silently, too tongue-tide to speak up. Dean’s heart was pounding again, he wanted this. Badly. And before he knew it, he found himself on his bed with Cas above him, kissing him experimentally. It took Dean a few seconds, but when he processed it. He kissed back eagerly, The angel nearly yelped as Dean yanked him down against him.
“Dean-” Cas choked out between desperate kisses and heated grinding (mostly on Dean’s end). Castiel could feel the hardness of Dean erection against his own, and he wanted more of the feeling. Dean nearly moaned when Cas ground back down against him. “Cas- fuck” Dean grabbed at Cas’s clothes, desprate to get a hold of something on the angel’s body as they moved together, heated breaths syncing between two bodies. And in the midst of it all, Castiel used his Grace to undress them. No fancy sparkles or blue light.
Just gone. Bare.
Dean stared up at the muscular, tan skin that belonged to the angel, his angel. Cas stared as well, a feather-light touch tracing down Dean’s chest and stomach, which in turn made the man shiver. Cas admired the scar and feather-sprinkeled body, the soft curves and the hard edges. Dean’s cock stood proudly against his abdomen, tip flushed and leaking pre-come, the same went for the angel. They both took a few minutes, staring in awe, admiring the other's body. Cas suddenly dipped down to press a kiss to the man’s collarbone. It’s a nice sensation, but he twitches as he feels Cas begging to nip and suck on the skin, leaving small marks that made the skin buzz with anticipation. Castiel's mouth got rougher and rougher, and the feeling of his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing rhythmically, wasn’t helping him. Dean couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. Sounds spilled out in quiet gasps and whimpers, whining every time Cas pulled away, even slightly. And when he could feel his fingers circling his tight entrance, fingers lubed with their mixed precome. Dean whined, it was pathetic, it made him blush from embarrassment. But Cas simply kissed his cheek and began slowly pushing in. only one knuckle at a time, slowly stretching and prepping Dean. Dean of course - can barely handle it - whining, writhing, moaning and groaning like he’s being tortured, but he can’t remember a time where he’s ever felt better than he does now.
“Please Cas- fuck-!” Dean gasps, and grabs onto Cas’s shoulders to steady himself as the angel crooks a finger, pressing down on his G-spot. Dean could feel tears poking his eyes and stars bursting behind them. “Cas- Cas- i gonna- please- fuck-” Dean didn’t even know what he was begging for at this point. And then it happened, The orgasm washing over Dean like a tidal wave as long white ropes shot out onto Castiel’s stomach and chest. When Dean came down from the high, Castiel carefully removed his finger, and Dean whined pathetically. “please Cas- don’t stop now-!” God he was pathetic. “Don’t worry Dean, I am far from finished with you.” The angel manhandled Dean onto his stomach on the bed, holding his almost limp hips up with a strong hand. "try to relax as best as you can, this will be a new experience for you."
Dean tried to relax, his thighs still trembling slightly as Castiel positioned himself behind him.
Dean’s breath hitched when he felt the dull tip of the angel’s cock against his entrance. Castiel, ever the resourceful angel, had lubed his cock with Dean’s cum.
Slowly, teasingly. The angel pushed the blunt tip of his flushed cock inside Dean’s entrance. Dean of course, (even after prep) moaned loudly, arching his back and gripping the sheets tightly. “FUCK-! Cas- ah~” Castiel couldn’t help but feel proud at the noises he pulled from the human, such a loud and noticeable reaction from the usually emotionally constipated hunter. “Shh, relax Dean, it will make it easier, take a deep breath. You’re doing so well.” Castiel quietly praises as he eases into Dean. Dean’s thighs are trembling and his knuckles are completely white as he grips the sheets. Cas of course didn’t bottom out immediately as he suspects Dean actually die. Slowly, he began pulling out again and slowly pushing in once again, Slowly thrusting, getting Dean used to the feeling. And Dean? Dean was in pain-tinted ecstasy, groaning, whimpering, even moaning (even though we all know he would never admit to it.)
Vibrations seize your quiet mind amidst your slumber… Quiet? Strange.
Still, a dull, heavy weight burdens your soul, while the buzz of your phone rattles against your palm. You don’t want to wake up. Not now. Not today.
Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr…
You move your eyes beneath your exhausted eyelids, force one eye open and peek at the blurry display. The brightness stings, until your pupil adjusts. Focus.
> Godzilla is calling…
Poison seeps into your gut, the heavy kind. Foul and disgusting. Your pulse goes up, letting your heart bleed out a wave of stress that tingles through your muscles. Unable to move, you just stare at the vibrating display— until it stops. Quiet.
“Fuck.” you breathe. It’s getting serious.
The blanket is stubborn against your legs as you wriggle yourself out and quietly scoot to the edge of your bed.
It’s cold. Only the shallow light of the moon falls into your window, enhanced by the brightness of the city’s usual light pollution. It must be early, earlier than your set alarm.
The silhouette of the storage bag beneath your window catches your eye, still untouched. You swallow — anxious to see him gone — and lean forward, quick to scan the rest of the room. Looking down into the gloom beneath your feet, you spot this familiar shade and texture of pink hair, illuminated by the moonlight. And you exhale, relieved.
Sukuna is still here, leaning against the ladder to your bed. Not moving at all, quietly breathing. He must be sleeping.
In slow motion, you climb down, bar after bar. Unfortunately, his huge body is blocking half the ladder.
How am I supposed to get off here?
You don’t know what to do.
I don’t wanna wake him…
Carefully, you stretch out your right foot towards the ground, and lower yourself in slow motion. Your left knee bends, as far as your flexibility allows, and you spread the toes of your other foot, hoping to reach the floor.
Tap.
It works. Like a cat, you manage to balance off the ladder without much sound.
And there he is, sitting in a lotus position, wearing his clothes again. Peaceful and calm.
Sukuna’s face looks concentrated, his eyes are closed. He could be meditating, if there wasn’t this precious hint of a snoozing pout puckered on his lips. His upper arms are crossed in front of his chest, while both of his bottom hands are resting in his lap. One of them is holding onto the pouch, like a deity protecting a treasure. Stunning.
You can’t help to watch him for a moment, even if it makes you grow quiet inside.
Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr…
Shit.
The poison in your gut fumes up and gets the anxiety going. Worried that the noise will wake up Sukuna, you quickly tiptoe to your drawer, fetch some new clothes and vanish into the bathroom to change. Jeans, shirt, sweatshirt, jacket, cap.
The phone doesn’t stop.
Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr…
“Shut uppp.” you mouth at the display, before you grab your keys and sneak outside, still ignoring the harrowing voice that will await you on the other side of the line.
Tschk.
Your heart sinks as soon as you close the door behind you. And it sinks lower with every step you take through the hallway. Hollow. A familiar feeling, that carves itself back inside your soul. With every step… With every step…
05:51 a.m.
Light slowly peeks onto the sky, or at least it tries. Grey clouds cover up the colours of the rising sun like a depressing veil. A cold breeze skims through your hair as you hit the streets. It smells like rain. Great.
You take a deep breath and head to La Familia. While it would be impossible for you to swallow a bite right now, you don’t want to miss the opportunity to get some breakfast for the sleeping beauty inside your home. Today is his last day after all.
And you hate it. In fact, you dread the moment he’ll—
Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr…
On your way home, your phone rings. Again.
And finally, you pick up.
“Good morning Hirose-sa—“
“What the fuck happened here?” he shouts— so loud, you even have to tilt your head off the phone.
“I’m sorry, I don—“
“Keep it! Get Itō-san and bring your ass over here!“— Doot. Doot. Doot.
You stare at your display, gritting your teeth at his behaviour. A loud exhale rattles through your chest and you open your messenger, texting Itō-san to meet you in the office as soon as possible. Then, you text Mio. Again.
[ Y/N ] Boss is on fire today…
[ Y/N ] Pray that I’ll survive.
She still hasn’t replied since yesterday. It worries you a bit, although her silence isn’t highly unusual. She’s traveling for work and it’s Monday after all.
Another text.
[ Y/N ] Anyway. I hope you’re having fun on your trip! 🫂
Zschk… Zing…
Quietly, you unlock the door and peek in. Sukuna’s huge figure is unmoved. Still sleeping, it seems.
Step by step, you tiptoe into the living room and lower his breakfast on the table. Four Onigiris, along with two soups. In the corner of your eye, you spot the Hello Kitty phone on the table — fully charged. You blink back to Sukuna, recalling the delight in his eyes and his amusement during the video-call. It makes you smile. So much, that you decide to grab a pen and some paper to write him a note with your number.
Please keep my phone as a memory of a good night :)
Also brought you breakfast. With beef.
Itadakimasu!
If you need anything else today, just call this number.
See you later—
“Someone’s up early, I see.” he grumbles all of a sudden, making you flinch hard enough to mess up your writing. You were too immersed in your thoughts.
“Oh.” you chime and turn to him. “Yes I just—“
Brrrr Brrrr…
[ Yapper ] What happened?!
“Mh?” he hums, and you blink your eyes off your phone and back to Sukuna, see him turn his head slightly, peeking at you with the eyes on his mask. “Do those vibrations make you nervous?”
You open your mouth to keep talking, but—
Brrrr Brrrr…
[ Yapper ] I’m on my way!
Another wave of poison burns your guts and bubbles up into the soft tissue of your throat. It’s asphyxiating, pressuring, yet you try to swallow.
Time is short. Itō-san is on his way and Hirose-san is boiling. Sukuna woke up — and you know you can’t stay without loosing your job. It’s overwhelming. Devastating, almost.
“Sorry, Sukuna-sama. I—“
Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr…
> Godzilla is calling…
Fuck!
You panic. He arches his eyebrow.
“I need to go.” you sputter, walking backwards towards the door. “See you later!”
It breaks your heart.
Tschk.
“Hello?”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m on my way.”
— Doot. Doot. Doot.
“Asshole.” you mutter, while making your way to the station, trying to swallow the lingering burn inside your throat.
At the station, you notice a news display reporting on the explosion in Kōtō. And you pause, watching the scenes. What once was a city, is now a total wasteland. Destruction everywhere. You swallow, before the news switch to the Meiji Shrine incident. Drone footage over the Meiji Shrine area, followed by shots of tape seals and policemen. A pixelated picture of Sukuna pops up, along with a hand drawn sketch of his face and a phone number to call for clues.
It’s distressing.
Your grip tightens around the belt of your bag, as all kinds of emotions run through your body and mind, knowing this wanted man is just around the corner inside your flat. And you’re complicit. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time.
And still, you can’t stop staring at the sketch of his face. It doesn’t fit him, yet describes him enough to trigger your mind to recall every moment with him since you saw him for the very first time. So many fatalities, and yet you’re still alive. Brutally enchanted.
You don’t notice how many trains have already left for Shinjuku, as you keep watching the same news on this display over and over again. Almost as if the picture on the screen will delay his departure, your feet won’t move and your eyes won’t budge.
Moments pass and your phone vibrates again, letting you know that Itō-san already arrived at the office.
I should go.
Dark shades of grey loom against the sky, as the vehicle is passing along the rails. The ride feels long. Long enough for your thoughts to rollercoaster through your mind. Thoughts about work and Hirose-san. Thoughts about the portal. Thoughts about Sukuna and how much you would rather be at home right now, with him. Pizza, banter or sex — everything would feel better than the nauseating anxiety inside your limbs and growing void inside your chest.
With a tense jaw, you put on your headphones. A random song starts playing, as you begin to scroll on social media.
Cat - Actor - Anime - Cat. It doesn’t help. And the song makes it worse.
♫ I can't fight this feeling any longer
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow
What started out as friendship has grown stronger
I only wish I had the strength to let it show
You scoff to yourself. Quickly, you swipe up to change the song, only to see that your camera app is still open. With a tumbling heart, you open your photos and spot the picture from last night — Sukuna with the Pizza. You almost forgot you took it in the first place.
♫'Cause I feel so secure when we're together
You give my life direction
You make everything so clear
The song keeps luring you in, and you grow soft seeing his grumpy face and his glaring eyes focused on the cheese. It’s sweet. Candid. It even makes you smile.
♫You're a candle in the window
On a cold, dark winter's night
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might — Enough.
You pause the music and pack away your headphones. Angry, almost. It hit too close to home. Pathetic, isn’t it?
A loud sigh rattles through your chest, as you keep trying to sit still — but you can’t help it. You open a new chat and type in your old number.
[ Y/N ] It’s me. Are you there?
Send.
>< The next station is: Shinjuku ><
Godzilla’s red eyes stare you down, as you walk towards Toho Cinema. If that wasn’t enough, the same news you watched earlier shatter loudly through the air, determined to let everyone in Tokyo know about the incident and the mysterious calamity. It makes you tense up.
Every step feels heavier and heavier — just like your chest, that your heart keeps pounding at. You find the coin inside the pocket of your jacket. How convenient, now you can nervously fiddle with the hot metal.
A blinking parking light to your right catches your eye. It belongs to a police car that is parked in front of your office. Oh shit.
Petrified, you halt your step.
You should’ve known. Stupid, to think that Hirose-san wouldn’t call the Police. Stupid, that you didn’t do the same on Friday night.
You grip your phone tighter and walk closer, until you spot a reptile like creature on top of the police car. Moving slowly, peering at you with its dark eyes. It’s nauseating.
You pause again — close your eyes and shake your head, trying to rid your mind of any thoughts about the happenings of last night in the depths of Shinjuku, before you enter the door. Actually, you’d rather vomit than to go up there right now.
7:58 a.m.
“Go-kai desu.” the elevator speaks. You brace yourself and the door opens.
It reveals a middle aged policeman that is talking to Itō-san and Hirose-san at the end of the hallway. You hold your breath, briefly making eye contact with the latter. His hostile glance meets your face and you avert your eyes, knowing you’re an hour late, before you quietly step foot into your office.
Two more policemen are pacing around the desks, mumbling and taking notes, while flashing photographs with a small digital camera. The broken window-front has been taped shut with milky foil, the crack in the floor and wall remains. A little fly is buzzing around the room and over the papers that are still scattered across the floor, while the sounds of the city and the advertisements sweep unmuted into your ears.
And you? You just stand there, digging your nails into the belt of your bag. Frozen. The situation is worse than you remember.
“L/N-san!” Hirose-san’s stern voice sends a shiver down your spine, coming from the doorway behind you. You turn and see him and the policeman. Both of them tall, almost like a wall, blocking your way out. “Officer Tanaka has a few questions for you.” he continues, before his voice turns snarky, almost threatening, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to answer them.”
You brace yourself, crack a nervous smile at both of them and bow your head, “O-Of course.”
They motion you to come with them. You ignore the glances coming from inside the other rooms and walk past Itō-san who doesn’t seem to be allowed to be back at his desk right now. They lead you to the end of the hallway, into the conference room. A regular sized room with a big table, some chairs, a big TV, and no windows — a remnant of the former karaoke bar. It’s the most secluded room, almost left untouched. Constricting in every sense, yet perfect for Power Point presentations. Utterly dreadful.
The cold, tiring lights snap on and Officer Tanaka reaches out his left hand, motioning to a seat. You lower your eyes to the chair he’s pointing to — and notice a little stamp on the back of his wrist, peeking out of his sleeve. Red ink. Curved design. Familiar.
Perplexed, you continue to sit down, trying to keep your face straight, while Officer Tanaka takes a seat on the opposite side, placing a folder in front of him. Hirose-san crosses his arms, dwelling in the corner right behind him.
The air is tense, your body anxious, your mind running. You’re not even sure, if you saw what you think you saw. It happened so fast. Still, you’re forcing yourself not to stare at the edge of his sleeve to take another glimpse—
“Well, L/N-san.” Officer Tanaka starts with a dutiful voice, ripping you out of your thoughts. “When was the last time you were working in this office?”
You straighten your back and swallow, “Friday night.”
He nods, writing some notes into his booklet, “Do you remember when you left?”
“I had some tasks to finish… I-I think it was around midnight.”
The officer arches his eyebrow, “That’s very late. Anything unusual about that night?”
You blink over to Hirose-san. And the sight makes your mouth dry. His disdained look with those yellowed eyes and saggy eye-bags of his. The disgusting weight of his stare let’s you question if it makes you want to rip his eyes out — or your own.
“L/N-san?”
You look back to the officer and pick your fingers beneath the table, “I-I remember there was something going on with the lights. My computer’s monitor had some issues too.”
“Oh?” surprise paints his face and he continues to write another note. “Can you elaborate?”
“T-The lights were buzzing.” you hate how feelings impacts your speech sometimes, making you clear your throat. “Going on and off. It creeped me out if I’m being honest.”
“And then?”
You inhale, “…I left. I was done with my work anyway.”
A pause. And you hold your breath.
“And that’s all?” he concludes, while Hirose-san’s eyes burn into you.
You nod, “That’s all.”
“Mh.” The officer nods back, before scribbling down some last notes, ending them with an impactful dot at the end. “L/N-san, have you heard of this perpetrator?”
He suddenly pulls out the exact same pictures that you have seen on the news this morning, as well as three pictures of surveillance footage of the neighbourhood, showing the silhouette of Sukuna walking the streets at night. You didn’t see those before — and you feel your blood drain from your face, worrying if there’s footage that shows you with him, too.
“I-I have.” you reply carefully. “That man is all over the news. He did horrible things.”
“Yes, yes, he did.” he nods and folds his hands. “Some even speculate, that he might have something to do with the recent events in Kōtō, too. Witness reports are still being reviewed.”
Tanaka pauses, as if he wants to see your reaction. And you just keep holding your breath and nod along, raising your eyebrows in empathy. Petrified, of what those witnesses might have seen. There, on the rooftop where Sukuna shot this fire arrow right in front of your eyes.
No — Impossible. As if any sane person would believe that.
Tanaka clicks his tongue.
“With this surveillance footage, we can assume that he was roaming around here in Shinjuku area around midnight on Friday. Considering the kind of damage he caused at Meiji Shrine, it would not be too surprising if he has something to do with the scene in your office as well. The marks he left on his victims and the shrine grounds resemble those of the crack in your office.”
You swallow again, looking down to the prints, “I see.”
“L/N-san.” he almost interrupts you with a tone that presses into your ears. “Is there any chance, that you have seen this man?”
You look up and he narrows his eyes, adding, “He is not very hard to miss.”
“No, I haven’t.” you lie, making his eyes twitch.
Hirose-san loudly clicks his tongue, making your eyes glance to him and back to Officer Tanaka, who hums and suddenly pulls out another print and places it in front of you. And the sight constricts your chest, pushing your stomach into a pit.
It shows Itō-san and you at your desk. Dark and slightly pixelated. The timestamp states Friday, 05:50 p.m.
Your pulse throbs inside your throat. Clenching your jaw, you try to keep calm.
“That’s me and Itō-san.” you nod quietly, while feeling the pressure of their eyes weigh heavier and heavier on your figure.
“Correct. Itō-san confirmed this as well.” Officer Tanaka adds, before pulling out another print. You inhale, breath jittering, scared of what comes next.
The print is carefully laid out in front of you. It’s showing you at your desk, alone, working. The timestamp states Friday, 09:30 p.m.
“T-That’s me.” you comment without request, hearing Hirose-san sigh in the corner. Officer Tanaka hums in agreement, before he takes out out another. Friday, 10:45 p.m. — And another. Friday, 11:15 p.m.
Your heart pounds vigorously, making it hard for you to keep still, as he pulls out yet another.
It’s showing you standing at your desk, about to turn off your monitor. The timestamp states Friday, 11:55 p.m.
Your mouth grows dry as sand. Nausea cramps inside your gut, as he goes for another. The time it takes for the print to be actually laid out in front of you feels like unbearable minutes of agony. And then you see it.
An empty office room, with a broken window-front. Papers scattered everywhere, a crack in the floor and wall — and no trace of you or Sukuna. The timestamp states Saturday, 00:05 a.m.
“Between these and these, the surveillance went out.” he points at the last two prints. You hold your breath, trying your hardest not to let the immense weight that just lifted off your chest show inside your features.
“Can you explain this?” Officer Tanaka inquires in a low tone, while Hirose-san is getting impatient in the background.
“That must have been the moment the lights started flickering. Possibly an error in the electric system. As I’ve stated before, I quickly left after I saw it occur.” you state in a monotone voice. “That’s all I can say.”
“I see.” he mumbles, still with a heavy look on his face, before he finally collects all of the prints. “Well, thank you for your cooperation. Please feel free to resume your tasks for now! We might come back to you and take you in for further questioning, since you’re the primary witness, but until then, if there’s anything you’d like to add that might help the investigation, please contact Hirose-san.”
The skin on your fingers already feels sore, as you crack a smile and get up, dying to get out of this situation. Hirose-san scoots forward, opening the door for you and you step out, before you feel him leaning way too close to your ear.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ll expect you in my office later… Sato-san!” his voice changes in the split of a second, as he waves at your other colleague who just crossed the hallway. “Officer Tanaka has a few questions for you.”
A scowl spreads on your face, feeling a thick lump in your throat push against your oesophagus. You lower your head and walk past your colleague, avoiding any eye-contact and rush back into your office, picking and pushing your nails into your fingers until it hurts.
As you enter the room, the two other policemen let you know they’re done with their work. You nod and swallow, watch them leave, before you loudly exhale and heave for air, as if you’ve hold your breath for the entire interrogation. With a loud thud, you slam your belongings onto the desk, harsher than you intended. Shit — your eyes grow wet.
The relief of the stress finally crashes down on you. This was too much. Everything’s too much. It was all just pure luck.
You try to swallow it down. There’s no way you can let anyone here see you like this.
Distract yourself!
Taking a deep breath, you look at the mess around you — and you don’t know where to start.
Crouching down, you start to pick up the scattered papers and documents. You shuffle through the whole room, waving the fly out of your face every now and then, while you collect every document you see, until the crack in the floor catches your eye. It’s deep, about a hand width. Your eyes follow along the swath, until they end on the wall. Multiple fissures are carved into the concrete, spreading out from the main source of destruction. You observe every one of them. It looks… like art.
Every crack, every broken piece of concrete, left there like an artist who left brushstrokes on a canvas. Proof of the man who caused all this, who put you into this situation in the first place—
“L/N-san!” Itō-san’s voice suddenly gasps behind your back, ripping you out of your thoughts. And you feel caught, because you were staring at the destruction caused by the man you wish to stay.
“What the hell happened here?” he asks in disbelief. And you purse your lips, thinking of an answer. Any answer.
“How should I know?” you mumble and turn away, going through the documents and sorting them on different piles on the shelf.
“I mean, you were the last one here, right before it happened.”
“Well, I left right before it happened.” you clench your jaw and dig your nails into a paper.
Itō-san hums and asks, “Do you think it was this Killer everyone is looking for?”
You shrug.
“I don’t think it was.” he motions to the crack. “Look at this crevice! How should a normal person be capable of this? Maybe it was, you know... Shinjuku is known for it’s seismic acti—”
“I know.” you interrupt and try to swallow the empty feeling thats reaching up your throat. A sudden topic that you don’t want to be reminded of.
“In the end, we should be lucky that no one got harmed again. Especially you.” he sighs. “Whatever happened, you should apologise to Hirose-san and stay quiet.”
You roll your eyes — although you know it will be necessary to soften any repercussions you might face for this whole ordeal.
“So, how about you turn that frown upside down and get to work, before he fires you on the spot?”
Itō-san is right. And you hate when he is. With a single nod, you turn on your computer, sit down and continue to sort through the documents.
Hours after hours pass, all your coworkers are questioned, statements are made and investigation continues even on the other floors and companies. The air stays tense to say the least.
06:03 p.m.
Darkness consumes the sky, letting the milky foil wash the city lights into muddy puddles. It’s the end of day — except for this company, except for you. Overtime.
Your eyes shoot to the little clock in the corner of your desktop, as you finally hear Hirose-san escorting officer Tanaka to the door, chatting and laughing, even offering him a drink sometime this week. What a circus.
The officer might be finally gone, but you don’t know if this is going to make the situation easier, or worse. Hirose-san still expects you in his office, after all. You never know what goes on in his mind. He, who is nothing short of a hot headed man, whose first priority is his company and company alone. Money and reputation.
The tension in your body remains, but suddenly, his phone rings through the hallway. Thankfully. It should give you a little bit more time, knowing he is usually busy with phone calls all day.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
You bite your teeth, keep working and typing and researching companies that would be suitable to repair the window front. Without having talked to Hirose-san yet, you already know it’s your responsibility to do so. Clicking and scrolling, comparing and calculating. Doing all of that, for something you’re not at fault. Not directly, that is. Still, you expect him to put the blame on you after all.
Primary witness. Tsk.
You even wonder if you should be angry at Sukuna instead, for crushing the glass in the first place.
Clenching your jaw, you picture yourself scolding the so-called King of Curses for putting you in danger and shoving him to your desk, forcing him to use the computer to do the research for you. But instead of feeling powerful satisfaction, you have to force your lips not to turn into a smile at the thought of this incredibly tall, buff man pressed into a tight, four armed suit, hunching over your slim desk, typing carefully on your keyboard — with two index fingers like a grandpa, tap, tap, tap.
Joyful bliss flushes through your system — and down the drain. In the split of a second, your mood sinks again, reminded of what is yet to come. The fog of reality washes back over you and your mind, and you keep working. Working without being present.
I wonder what he’s doing right now…
“The weather seems to get colder now, isn’t it?” Itō-san suddenly starts. “It’s so grey today. We should prepare ourselves for the cold season. I’ll need to find some time to buy a new scarf and gloves. You know, the kind which you can still use your phone with. So convenient.”
You don’t wanna hear it.
“Did you know that Sato-san went to Hokkaido last winter? Whenever it gets cold, she will bring it up during lunch break. Every single time. She always tells how freezing it was and how the snow was piling up everywhere. I think it would be too cold for me to do that. But I guess some people really like the cold weather.“
Brrr… Brrr…
You peer on the sudden notification, ignoring Itō-san’s blabbering.
[ ] Where?
You narrow your eyes, confused. A message from your old number. Then another one.
[ ] Im still in this coop you live in.
Wait.
Realisation hits your heart and you open the chat. Staring at the message with wide eyes, you can’t believe Sukuna actually figured out how to text back. Almost proud.
Then you see him typing again. Nervously, you wait. It almost feels like waiting an eternity for him to finish his message.
[ ] is typing…
[ ] I saw your note. Your handwriting is awful.
A little smile twitches onto the corners of your mouth, just like that. You change the name in your contacts and type a response. The best you can come up with.
[ Y/N ] Thanks! I’m glad you liked it!
A pause.
[ Beef ] is typing…
[ Beef ] That is not what I said.
You huff. It’s almost as if he unclogged something in your chest.
In the corner of your eyes, you perceive a glance from Itō-san, who suddenly grew quiet after he noticed your mental absence. You clear your throat.
[ Y/N ] Show me yours then
[ Beef ] is typing…
You stare at the little text, until it disappears. A pause.
Then it appears again and disappears another time. You bite your lips, barely able to sit through the anticipation. It takes forever. In fact, minutes pass.
And your high slowly drops. You loose your smile and bite your lip, before you take a breath, set the phone aside and keep working into the night, always keeping an eye on the clock.
09:34 p.m.
Hirose-san occasionally walks up and down the hallway, constantly talking on the phone. With distinct, heavy steps, almost as if he’s patrolling your only way out like a dog, quietly eyeing what you’re doing with hollow, piercing eyes. Back and forth.
Usually, you would go on with your day like normal, but this interrogation still sits on your mind. Sukuna. Those prints — and how you reacted. It weighs upon your soul, keeps rumbling through your mind, circling. Back and forth.
Like the fly buzzing around, like the constant crackling of the foil swaying in the wind, like the everlasting jingles and music from outside. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The tension you feel in your bones is agonising, knowing you still have to talk to him. And at this point, you don’t know if he even does it on purpose, leaving you hanging on a thread for the whole day. It makes you mad, drives you insane. You just want it to stop.
Everything. Everywhere. All at once—
“Hey!” Hirose-san suddenly calls you in a sharp hiss, making you flinch, before he snips his fingers down the hallway. The stress now fully consumes your system. Full force.
You peek to Itō-san, before you get up and follow Hirose-san into his office.
Every muted step on the carpet towards his office feels like a walk of shame. Passing each door of the other rooms, you feel eyes glued on you. Any chatter you hear dies down, as soon as you walk by.
Hirose-san opens the door to his office — and you step in.
Tschk.
He sits down behind his desk, leaning his elbows onto the surface. Cocking his eyebrow, he’s peering up to you, while hiding half his face behind his folded hands.
Kata… Koto… Kata… Koto…
His old clock at the wall is heavy in your ears. It almost makes you paranoid. The hoary smell inside the carpet itches in your nose, traces of beverages, liquor and sweat — as if the window wasn’t opened in ages. You swallow the dusty and dry air, feeling dehydrated and nauseous already.
And Hirose-san? He stays silent, while his hollow eyes stare a hole into you.
Kata… Koto… Kata… Koto…
Minutes go by and you don’t know what to say. Fiddling with your fingers, you take a deep breath, lower your head and mumble, “I apologise.”
He clicks his tongue, “Uhuh…”
Kata… Koto… Kata… Koto…
“What do you think of Officer Tanaka?” he starts, and you don’t understand. “Do you think he’s a good Policeman?”
“Y-yes, I think so.” you mumble, honest. “His questions were very thorough.”
“Yes. Yes that’s true.” he hums, before clicking his tongue. “Well, do you know what he said, after seeing you on that surveillance footage? Mh?” his eerie voice swirls into your ears like a snake. This undertone is so unbearably arrogant. You swallow, trying to push down the rising anxiety. In fact, you don’t want to know.
“What did he say?” you ask, a tad too quiet, making him huff and suck at his teeth. Loud and snobbish.
“That’s no evidence, he said.” he drawls, eyeing you and your reaction intensely. And you’re confused, but stay quiet, keeping your eyes low. “…That’s no evidence.” he repeats the statement, this time mocking Tanaka’s voice like a child—
BAM!
You flinch, as his hand slams on the table, “Tanaka is a fucking idiot!”
He shoots up from his seat, pointing at you with his finger, “And you! You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
“What?” you spit back, louder than you intended, making him smirk. Telltale.
“Yeah, I watched you. And you can’t tell me shit!” he spits. “You turned as white as a sheet as soon as he pulled out those prints of that disfigured fuck!”
“Obviously!” you bitch back. “That man looks frighte—”
“You gotta be kidding me!” Hirose-san stomps over to you and you force down the bile that shoots up your throat, as he pushes his finger into your sternum, hovering over you like a dragon. “No, no, no… I know this look.” he hisses. “It’s the same damn look people give me, when they know they’ve done something wrong and try to hide it from me. You grew as stiff as a pole with every single print that he pulled out.” he lowers his voice, with his tone growing sharper. “And you know what? Out of everyone during this situation, you were the stiffest of them all!”
You clench your fists.
“You know what? I don’t think this Killer scares you in the slightest. It’s what you think people might learn about you.” he breathes, moving closer, making you feel his damp, hot breath against your face. “What is it about you that Kobayashi-san held so dearly? Huh?”
What?
Words that hit you like a taser, rendering you unable to react.
“Instead of leaving me a curse, I got you fucking dipshit and a total mess in there!” he shouts and your eyes widen. “You were the last one in that room, right before it happened. And if that Killer is responsible for this mess, I know you saw him. And you know what? That makes you complicit!” his scorching eyes weigh you down with a disgusting, wrinkled sneer on his face. And you purse your lips, fighting against the lump that’s growing inside your throat. “Even though I can’t prove it yet, be sure, I’m gonna blacklist you. No quitting for you! Noooo. No. No.” he almost chuckles. “You’re gonna work and work and work for my benefit and mine alone, until you paid off that damage. You’re gonna wish it was you and not Kobayashi. Understood?”
You can’t speak. The audacity, tension and anger compresses your mouth. Blood of your lip inks your teeth, trying your hardest not to talk back, as you’re digging your nails into your fists.
“Understood?!” he shouts and you look up to meet his gaze, glaring back into his disgusting eyes.
“Understood.”
“Good.” he snarls, before walking back to his desk and taking a seat in his chair. “Get this sorted. Now!”
You force your head back into a bow and leave the room. The lump inside your throat bursts, leaving a bitter taste of spiteful pus, searing into your flesh and ripcage. Tears tingle in your eyelids and you hurry out and into the restroom, locking the door behind you.
Pshhhh
You stare at the water shooting out of the faucet, trying to breathe, trying to swallow the pain that Hirose-san dug up. He went too far. Motherfucker.
You sniff and take some soap, thinking of Kobayashi-san and Sukuna. It stings and hurts, reddens your sensitive skin, as you keep rubbing and rubbing. Harder and harder.
“Agh!” you hiss, as you let the cold water hit your hands. It burns like fire.
And maybe, you deserve it.
Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr… Brrrr Brrrr…
You take the phone out of your pocket — and you freeze. Unexpected.
> Videocall incoming: Beef
Baffled, you stare at the display, feeling the vibrations against your fingertips. It’s electrifying. And with every vibration, your heart beats faster, badum, badum. Nervously, you hover your finger to accept the call — but the motion stops.
The display turns off again, leaving you staring at your own reflection. Your tongue clicks in your ears as you swallow.
Why did he call?
You brush away your tears, take a deep breath, gather some courage and call back.
Doot… Doot… Doot… Doot…
You heart is racing.
Doot… Doot… Doot… D— the line connects.
The view of your ceiling appears on your display. Quiet. The gentle orange light of your lamp repaints the usual white colour into a warm tone. You can’t see, but hear how the door of your fridge opens and closes again.
With a throbbing heartbeat, you narrow your eyebrows and mumble, “Hello?”
“What is it?” his grumpy, distant voice is barely perceivable over the crackling noise of a plastic bottle. And you can’t help it. His voice makes you crack a smile, almost unnoticeable, but sensible in your soul.
“Well… You called me?” you ask, trying to act over your weak voice.
Water is chugged and a chair is moved. It slightly stirs the picture in your display, before his hand reaches into the frame and places the bottle next to the phone. Sukuna tilts the phone up, finally revealing his face.
He’s sitting at the table. Wrapped in his haori, the gentle light makes him look warm. Cozy. Sweet.
And you’re confused.
Sukuna musters you with an arched eyebrow, as a hint of a smirk flies over his lips.
“The chicken is still pale, I see.” he coos, leaning his head on his left fist, making your eyebrow twitch.
What is it about the colour of my face? — You clear your throat, trying not to watch his pretty gaze too much, even though it almost feels like his eyes alone could duck the cancerous memories inside your mind beneath a soft blanket.
“So… you called, because you wanted to check on me?” you respond, raising your eyebrows.
He sneers, clicking his tongue, “I didn’t call you.”
Huh?
“You did…”
“I didn’t.” he grunts and lifts his head to scratch his earlobe. “My finger slipped.”
Oh?
“I see...” you drawl, recalling the times you used the exact same excuse when you were clumsily stalking some guys profile picture…
No. Whatever.
His fingers are large and thick. Plus he isn’t used to a phone like that. It doesn’t necessarily mean he took a closer look at your picture, especially not hours after you texted him — Right?
Sukuna keeps scratching and tilts his head, looking out the window. No response. Suspicious.
You swallow.
“Actually…” you break the silence, trying to move on from your thoughts and carry on the conversation. “When you called, I was hoping you’d show me your handwriting.”
His bottom left eye blinks back to you.
“You wouldn’t even be able to read mine, considering how botched your strokes are.” he rustles, with a proud grin growing on his face. “Delicate hands and silky eyes, yet cursing your script with a lack of artistry in every sense. What a pity.”
Diabolic. Poetic, almost. It makes your lips twitch into a smile. Finally.
“Perhaps.” you hush, trying to flirt. “However, said tools come in handy for another kind of artistry… Don’t you agree, Sukuna-sama?”
He huffs, licks his teeth right after, before he looks back to you. Soft, amused eyes. With wrinkles. Vicious to your soul. Vicious, just like the sight of him last night — when he almost melted in your hands. Fuck.
“…Perhaps.” his grin grows, and yours with it, while his eyes are pinned on you like needles. Tense, on your heart and mind, before he chuckles, “Keh. Another kind of artistry indeed. Pleasing, yet unbearably persistent…” he ponders, licking his lips, almost as if he kept himself from talking. You notice.
“What do you mean?” your question makes Sukuna pause. His lip twitches beneath his eyes. A devouring expression.
Badum.
“I don’t need to tell you, do I?” he coos, cocking his eyebrow.“…We will never see each other again anyway, brat.”
And just like that, those words carve a gap into your lungs. Heavy like steel, hitting you like a hammer that you tried to dodge all day.
“I see.” you swallow quietly, with your smile fading and his words echoing in your head. It feels like your brain is tensing up.
“I see.” he mimics you. “You look rather constipated instead.”
“Well.” you huff, suddenly suppressing tears. “I’m not gonna lie, my mind is.” you pause and lower your eyes, rubbing the fabric of your sleeves between your index finger and thumb. “This day was a lot…” you look back up and meet his eyes — mean and beautiful, as they are consuming — it’s too much. You blink back to your fingers and your voice grows quiet. “…It still is.”
Don’t go…
This thought that’s been creeping in your mind ever since you saw him, even before you knew who he was or why he was here. The thought that made you follow him, help him. It begins to manifest into something.
“…How concerning.”
Concerning? — “Yeah.” you swallow. It’s unusual for you, but not at all at the same time. Selfish.
You don’t dare to look up. Still feeling his heavy gaze — even through the display — you don’t dare to give yourself away like that. He will know.
“…I should go.” you press the words out of your throat, making him click his tongue.
“Me too.”
Maybe he already does.
You blink back into the display, see his piercing eyes. Forcing another smile, you wave him — and he barely nods back, before you hang up.
Silence.
It’s smothering. A deep exhale escapes your lungs. You’re not ready for this adventure to end.
With quivering lips, your eyes fill with tears yet again. You hate this day, even more than you thought would.
“And even as I wander, I’m keeping you in sight. You’re a candle in the window on a cold dark winter’s night…” you hum and keep picking at the edge of your phone. “…And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might… Shit.”
I need air.
“Man, you were gone for a good while.” Itō-san asks over the clacking typing sound of his keyboard, as you shuffle back to your desk. “How did it go?”
You don’t reply, don’t wanna talk.
He stops typing, eyeing you up and down, “You’re not packing your stuff. So it was not too bad I guess.” he hums, and you tense up. “We heard his volume through the hallway though... Just buy him some cups of sake and he’ll be normal to you again in no time. It’ll be fi—”
“I’m gonna go for a snack.” you interrupt him in a sharp tone and grab your jacket. “You want something?”
“Ah… No.” he clears his throat. “Thank you.”
You nod, before leaving the room.
“Oy! Where do you think you’re going?” Hirose-san spots you from across the hallway as you head towards the elevator.
“Snack!” you shout back. He can’t fire you now, can he?
10:57 p.m.
Damp air hits your face. It has rained. Pools of water decorate the streets and the temperature has fallen a few degrees. The wind blows a chilling breeze against your skin as you make your way towards the 7/11.
It smells. The pungent odour of beer stings in your nose. People in Shinjuku are getting drunk already, laughing and chatting loudly, some even passed out. The ads screech loudly, piercing through the roaring traffic. It’s overwhelming.
With wet steps, you enter the Konbini. It’s crowded. Constricting. Jingles and slogans crash thunderously loud into your ear, while you stroll towards the aisle with the Onigiris.
You take beef. The first piece of food for you today.
Impatiently you wait for your turn at the cash register. A faint little squeak chimes up to your right. It sounds familiar and yet, you keep still and focus on the cashier with a tense jaw and rising pulse. Your mind is racing, contemplating to go down into this hellhole yet again, maybe even inquire Kenjaku about this whole situation of Sukuna — however, information doesn’t come for free, that’s what you learned — and you’re sure, Kenjaku is the type of person who will act the same way towards you.
And after this day, there’s nothing you have left to give. Right?
Finally, the last person moves out of the way, you step forward and pay, while clenching your fist beneath the counter. You tense up, but don’t tap. It’s no use.
Back outside, you take a bite. The flavour of the beef already feels melancholic against your tongue. Alarmingly so.
Inside your pocket, your fingers find the coin again, hot against your skin. Hot?
Wait. — You didn’t connect the dots before. Another breeze skims through your hair, as you take it out and look at it, flat inside your palm. The cold temperatures soften the radiating heat, making it feel nice even.
“Powerful…” you mumble, then click your tongue. “If it could only grant a wish, like a coin should. More time…”
“The suspected murderer responsible for the massacre at Meiji Shrine is still at large.” the news anchor on a display starts, making your ears twitch. “It’s been two days since 34 visitors at Meiji Shrine got brutally killed by an unknown man. Authorities are working around the clock to gain more information about the suspect and the incident. He is about 210cm tall, has a disfigured face, pink hair and, allegedly, four arms, as well as multiple black tattoos on his face and body. He wears a black Haori and white Hakama pants. Any clues about him are appreciated and can be turned in under #9111.”
“…to make you miss that damn portal.” you breathe, as you watch the news with wide eyes, with an idea brewing in your mind. Biting your lip, you open Mio’s chat.
[ Y/N ] I’m still alive.
Send.
You fiddle with the coin, impatient, waiting for an answer. Any answer.
No response. Another text.
[ Y/N ] Actually…
[ Y/N ] Dick was so good, I think I’m gonna do something stupid…
[ Y/N ] Really stupid.
Your pulse goes up and you wait another two minutes, giving her the chance to look at her damn phone, a chance to hold you back. Not that you would listen to her anyway.
But she doesn’t. No reaction, no message.
“Fine.” you mumble, dial #9111 and look around, thinking of a way to make this convincing. An empty alleyway across the street catches your eye. You inhale, “Time to gamble…”
You press the call button, as you cross the street and walk straight into the darkness.
Doot… Doot — “Tokyo Police, what can I do for you?”
“Hi…” you start, but suddenly loose your voice inside your dry mouth.
Get your shit together!
“Hello?” the other voice asks, but your tongue doesn’t move. Distressed. It makes your heart rate spike. Thankfully.
“Tokyo Police, hello?!” the voice asks yet again, growing impatient. You close your fist around the coin, pressing the hot metal hard into your palm.
Do it!
You start panting, “Yes, I’m in front of Toho Cinema in Shinjuku and…” panic creeps into your voice, lets it jitter, as you suppress a whine. “…I’d like to report the man responsible for the Meiji Shrine incident! Big, with a disfigured face and tattoos! He’s here!”
