Chapter Text
The heavy rain was deafening that night, drowning out most noises, even the loud shouts of the fight going on. And then after those had died down all that could be heard was sobbing and pleading for an end to it all, sounding so utterly broken and hopeless.
Kirinji didn't know how he had gotten out of the cold rain, still feeling so very numb. A blanket was put around his shoulders before he was left to himself again where he sat on the floor.
So there he was, dazed and confused, still riding out the aftershock of his little (big) freak out, not knowing where he actually was or how he'd wound up there, but he did realize after some time that he wasn't alone. No, because Tsukumo had the bright idea to leave Kirinji with the Amamiyas of all people possible, because he and Kohaku were off to see to some other important business.
So there he was, damp hair hanging in his eyes that were all red from crying, while his clothes were just as much a mess as he was. He didn't even feel like himself. Though, the worst thing was that he wasn't alone. No. Both Amamiyas were there (of course they were there, it was their living room after all) and stare at him, Masaki more than Hiroto, even though he vaguely remembered him being the one giving him the blanket he was clutching to himself.
Kirinji had no clue what Tsukumo or Kohaku had told them about him and a not so small part of him was getting more and more worried (and scared) of what the Amamiyas might do to him. He did try to put on a brave front, but it actually made him look only more pathetic than his red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks already did. And then Masaki dropped down to one knee in front of him and ruffled his hair. He was oddly careful with him and it threw Kirinji for a loop, so much so that he was close to crying again. He didn't understand what did prompt such a reaction to someone like him by someone like them. It was only when Masaki offered him some clean and most importantly dry clothes, that Kirinji noticed that his jacket was missing and with it the Kuryu pin. He knew that he was still wearing it when this all began, which now felt like a lifetime ago.
Had Tsukumo taken it from him before handing him over? But why would he do that? They were enemies.
He hadn't been able to fight them the first time at Iemura, knocked down and embarrassed, not that it was anything new. He must've looked like some weak kitten, sitting on the floor all while staring up at the others with big eyes before he had realized his mistake. The fight inside him had died pretty quickly back then.
Now though, he didn't think he could even muster any of that courage or strength, even if he tried. He probably looked even more like some weak and wet kitten, huddled in the blanket he'd been given god knew why.
He laid curled up on one of the armchairs in the living room that night, dressed in clothes that were too big for him. Though, sleep wouldn't come. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind replayed over and over again the events that led to this, trying to make sense of any of this. But it was no use. The important details were a blurr because of course they were. Why would he ever be lucky?
His mind drifted back to the bits and pieces of the conversation he had been able to make out between Masaki and Hiroto from when they had been talking in a far corner of the room. From the bits he had been able to make out, he now knew that they didn't exactly know who he was, though wasn't certain whether they knew who he used to work for. Still worked for? Would that even still be possible? He wasn't sure. He would've a lot of explaining to do about this, but there laid the problem. He didn't even know just how he'd gotten in this mess, much less how he was supposed to get out of it again.
The next morning, things weren't any easier than they were the night before. If anything they were worse.
Kirinji had no idea how to act in front of the Amamiyas, torn between being his usual insufferable self and the part of him that hadn't given up on self-preservation yet. It was like walking on eggshells, only worse. At least with Iemura he knew the rules, though there was still the chance of being punished. With the Amamiyas however, he was treated in an almost gentle way. He had almost forgotten how it felt not to be threatened or mocked on a daily basis. The fear remained though. Fear of being caught, of being known who he really was, of this all being some weird game, a big joke he was the only one not in the know about.