Chapter Text
There is little that can be missed in the narrow view of a scope. The individual hairs on his target's head could be counted, the texture of his suit could be seen, the scratches on his watch face. This was the beauty of the sniper. The ability to take away all of the distractions and unwanted sights. The ability to focus on only what was needed.
“Target almost in place, be ready Choso.” Jogo said, voice rough over the comm system.
“Locked and loaded, ready when you are,” Choso replied. He peered through the window of the ballroom, watching ladies and men walk by, entertained by some upcoming yakuza wannabe, wined and dined with the cheapest fresh fish blood money could buy. The target came into view, his thick neck bulging uncomfortably from his buttoned suit collar. He raised his champagne flute, lips moving with words Choso couldn’t hear. His finger rested lightly on the trigger, crosshairs locked in on the bald spot on the back of the target’s head. Yet he waited. They had a message to send, and it was his job to shoot the messenger.
“Now.”
His finger twitched.
Bang.
He didn’t remain long enough to watch the body fall, withdrawing his rifle into the hotel room and sliding the window shut once more. He yanked the curtains closed, and immediately began to break down his setup, not that there was much to break down. He clicked the safety on his rifle, taking the ammunition out and shoving it into his backpack. He unscrewed the silencer, then gently placed the rifle into his guitar case. He closed the case, smiling gently at the stickers adorning it. A pinchurchin sticker sat front and center on the leather.
“This one looks like you!” Yuuji had exclaimed, slapping the sticker smack dab in the middle of the guitar case. Choso gently pressed down one of the edges that was beginning to curl up. He wondered if he could glue it.
His phone rang, interrupting the moment. Huffing out a sigh, he dug the device out of his pocket, not even bothering to read the caller ID.
“Yo,” he greeted, pushing the case off to the side, working on organizing the various odds and ends that were still floating around the room.
“Good work as always, Choso. Your payment has been deposited and there are no further orders at this time,” Geto said over the phone. “The room is booked until tomorrow morning at 10, or I’ve looped the security footage for the next hour if you would like to leave.”
“And the receptionist?” Choso asked, already sliding on his shoes.
“She’s been… persuaded to keep her mouth shut.” Ah. So he paid her.
“Thank you sir. I’ll keep my phone on me if anything else comes up.”
“Ever the hard worker,” Geto chuckled. Choso stood up, backpack already on, guitar case in hand.
“Goodnight, sir,” Choso didn’t wait for a reply before he flipped his phone closed. He stepped into the hallway, pulling his baseball cap further down onto his head. The halls were empty, the elevator silent. When he passed the receptionist, she glanced up, only to immediately return her gaze to what she was doing behind the desk. Choso stepped through the front doors, and disappeared into the darkness of the night, joining the throngs of late night club-goers and bar hoppers.
…oooOOOooo…
Choso gently opened the front door, the hinges well oiled to avoid squeaking or creaking. He immediately locked the door, throwing the deadbolt as well before toeing off his boots. He quietly padded through the house, placing his guitar case and backpack down in his room before creeping down the hall to check on his brother.
Yuuji was fast asleep, his star-shaped night light glowing softly next to his bed. Choso relaxed. It didn’t matter how often he had to go away for his job, or how protected he knew Yuuji was, he still worried. When Choso started working for his current employer, he had ensured that Yuuji would never get caught in the crossfire. Demanded it even when he had no grounds to stand on to make such demands.
He was lucky he wasn’t killed then and there.
But his employer had just laughed, agreeing to the terms that were forcefully requested by the ratty little twelve year old in front of him with a smile. It wasn’t the most ideal job, but he was too deep in to even think about turning down another path.
Choso quietly closed Yuuji’s door, turning away to tiptoe back down the hall and collapse into his own bed, deciding to deal with his “luggage” in the morning.
…oooOOOooo…
“Chosoooo,” Yuuji groans, pulling his brother’s hand with much more strength than an eleven year old should ever be capable of having.
“Yuuji, slow down, I’m going as fast as I can!” Choso exclaimed, speed walking down the sidewalk behind his little brother.
“We’re going to be late!”
“We’ll be fine, Yuuji,” Choso huffs, pulling Yuuji back before he could walk into oncoming traffic. “The movie doesn’t start for another 15 minutes.” Yuuji looked up at him with his big brown eyes, brow furrowed in annoyance. The pouty look was very much set off by the duck sweatshirt he was wearing, the bright yellow fabric practically glowing in the midday sun.
“But I don’t want to miss it! Fushiguro is probably already waiting at the theater with Kugisaki and they’re definitely making fun of me!”
“I’m sure they’re not making fun of you- Yuuji!” His sentence was punctuated with a shout as Yuuji pulled his hand again, the light at the crosswalk now green.
They made it with two minutes to spare. Yuuji, unaffected by the brutal pace he had set, immediately ran to greet his friends, talking about how excited he was. Choso walked up to the ticket booth while the kids talked.
“Four tickets for Spider-Man, please. Three children and one adult.” He placed his card into the tray and glanced over at the kids, now eyeing the candy through the display case. The employee slid over the tickets and his card, smiling at him.
“Enjoy the movie, sir!” Choso nodded his head in return, attention now fully on Yuuji and his friends. As he approached, Fushiguro stared up at him, digging in his pocket for something.
“My guardian gave me money for my ticket, here,” he grumbled, handing over a wad of yen. Choso’s eyes widened.
“That is wayyy too much for just a movie ticket, kid,” he said, plucking what he needed from the crumpled ball. “Keep the rest.” Fushiguro just shrugged, stuffing the money back into his pocket. What parent in their right mind gave that much money to an eleven year old?
Yuuji bugged Choso for snacks, of course. Despite his best efforts, Choso caved in, he could never say no to Yuuji. He found himself herding three primary school students into a movie theater. It was a lot like herding cats. Kugisaki insisted on sitting in the exact middle of the theater, insisting it had the best view. Itadori argued that the back had the best view, but was outnumbered when Fushiguro agreed with Kugisaki.
So they sat in the middle. The movie was alright, but Choso found himself battling sleep not even twenty minutes in. He had gotten home late last night. Again. It seemed like every day Geto was calling him with another target, not even giving him time to breathe. He tried to avoid cutting into time with his brother, but the late nights and early mornings were beginning to take a toll on him.
Yuuji was beginning to notice too.
And Choso felt awful about it.
He wanted to give Yuuji a normal childhood, nothing like the one he had experienced himself. So Yuuji went to school, and did his homework, and saw movies with his friends, and didn’t worry about money or food or where they were going to sleep that night. Because Choso had worried about that, and Yuuji had been too young to remember much of it anyways.
Choso’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him awake. He quickly fished it out of his pocket, only to sag at the number displayed. He leaned over to Yuuji, who was completely enamored with whatever was happening on screen.
“I have to take a call, I’ll be right back, okay?” He whispered. Yuuji nodded without looking away from the movie. Choso quickly made his way to the door, answering the call as he exited.
“Yo,” he greeted.
“Choso! How nice to hear your voice!” Choso immediately scowled.
“What do you want, Mahito.”
“Oh nothing, I just figured I’d inform you of the meeting we have tomorrow. Boss says it’s a big one.”
Big client. Big money. Choso took a deep breath. If this one paid well, that meant a lag in targets for a bit. A break.
“When and where?” He bit out. Mahito giggled and Choso fought the urge to groan. God, he hated that jerk. Was glad they rarely even crossed paths.
“The usual spot, 3:00pm.”
“3:00pm?!” Choso exclaimed, swearing. Yuuji got out of school at 2:00. He’d have to work something out. “Why is it so early?”
“Hell if I know, I’m just the messenger,” Mahito replied. Choso grit his teeth, rubbing his forehead where he could feel an impending headache.
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
“Yay, I’m so excited! I feel like I never see you, Choso! It’ll be nice to chat in person, but I have to go okay byeeee!” Choso sighed as the line went dead, closing his phone and taking a minute to compose himself before returning to the theater.
He fell asleep as soon as he sat down in his chair.
…oooOOOooo…
Choso watched as Yuuji, Kugisaki, and Fushiguro kicked around a pebble they had found in the planter outside the movie theater. He took a sip of the coffee he had bought to keep himself running until he could get dinner on the table for Yuuji. At least he was free from his job for the night. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
A sleek black car pulled up in front of the movie theater, parking in the fire lane. Choso frowned.
Who the hell is this asshole?
The passenger door opened and a very tall man with white hair stepped out. His eyes met Choso’s, eerily bright blue shining behind his round sunglasses. Then his eyes landed on the group of kids, and Choso’s heart seized in his chest. His hands went into his pockets, one grabbing his trusty pocket knife, ready to shank the bastard if he tried anything funny.
“Megumiiii!” The man squealed, taking Choso aback. He had not expected that. The man flounced over to Fushiguro and scooped him up, spinning him in a circle while peppering his face with kisses.
Fushiguro looked severely unamused.
“Put me down, Gojo,” he said, sighing. The man, Gojo, nuzzled Fushiguro’s face, then put him down, instead taking his hand. Gojo extended his hand to Choso, smiling.
“Gojo Satoru, I’m Megumi’s guardian,” he said. Choso shook his hand, not at all surprised by the firm grip the man had.
“Kamo Choso,” Choso greeted. “Just call me Choso.”
“Ah, so you’re Itadori’s brother! I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gojo said, releasing Fushiguro’s hand as he tugged away, walking back towards Yuuji and Kugisaki.
“All good things I hope,” Choso chuckled nervously. He hated small talk. Was bad at it, always got too nervous. He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Oh absolutely! Itadori would paint you in gold if he could. Every time he comes over he doesn’t stop talking about his brother,” Gojo laughed, and a thought popped into Choso’s head.
“Could I ask a favor of you?” Choso started. “Would it be possible for Yuuji to go home with Fushiguro tomorrow? Work stuff came up and I won’t be home until late.”
“Sure! Megumi loves playing with him, and my husband is always excited when the house is full,” Gojo sighed, then checked his watch. “Megumi! Time to go.” Choso heard Megumi sigh, but reluctantly say goodbye.
“Thank you so much, Gojo, I really appreciate it, I can pay you back for anything he consumes-“ Choso was interrupted by Gojo’s hand held up.
“Nonsense, it’s no big deal. I mean, it’s just a playdate, right?”
Choso took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, just a playdate.” Gojo smiled, then turned back to his sleek car, Megumi in tow. Choso watched as they drove away.
“Alright, wrap it up kids, let's go home.”
The train wasn’t crowded, which Choso was grateful for because that meant the car they were in was practically empty. Yuuji and Kugisaki sat on either side of him, cuddled into his sides and drooling on his sweatshirt, passed out. Choso smiled down at them, lightly ruffling Yuuji’s hair. He let his head fall back against the window, eyes struggling to stay open as the world whizzed by outside. He was saved by the conductor announcing their stop. He gently shook Kugisaki and Yuuji awake, chuckling lightly at their bleary stares, and walked them off the train, waving goodbye to Kugisaki as she walked away from the station.
Yuuji was still half asleep, so Choso decided to just carry him home. The house was dark when they got there, the sun already disappearing behind the horizon. Yuuji breathed deeply, his fingers knotted into the fabric of Choso’s sweatshirt. Choso smiled down at his brother. He gently set Yuuji into his bed, deciding to wake him up when dinner was ready, and padded into his own room, stubbing his toe on the guitar case still in his floor.
“Shit,” he cursed quietly, “I meant to put that away.” He quickly opened the case, opening his closet and removing the lockbox from it. He swapped his rifle from his guitar case into the lockbox, tossing the ammunition into his bedside drawer and returning the box to his closet.
He didn’t want Yuuji getting into his guns.
Choso walked back downstairs, only for his heart to drop into his stomach. Someone was here. Immediately on edge, he pulled his knife out of his pocket, creeping through his house, listening, feeing . The kitchen light was on.
“You can relax, Choso. I’m not here to hurt you.” Choso’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped into the kitchen, eyes locking on Geto, who sat at his kitchen counter.
“Good evening,” Choso greeted, retracting his knife and sliding it back into his pocket. He awkwardly stood in his own kitchen for a moment, shuffling his weight between his feet. “Can I get you anything? Tea?”
“Tea would be great, thank you,” Geto replied, running a hand through his hair. It was down, which was strange. He usually wore it up. Choso busied himself preparing tea and getting dinner ready.
He cleared his throat. “So, um, what brings you to my house?” He didn’t bother asking how Geto knew where he lived. Geto was the one who knew everything about anyone.
“I came with an offer.” Choso froze, spoon of tea leaves hovering over the two mugs.
“What kind of offer?”
“A promotion… of sorts.” Choso took a deep breath, sprinkling the leaves into each mug. He removed the kettle from his stove, pouring the hot water into each mug. He handed Geto one mug, leaving the other where it was to steep while he busied himself with cooking.
“And what does this promotion involve?” He asked. He was always wary of any kind of “promotion” from his employers. As it stood, Choso remained on the outside of the organization, the lacy edges of the spider web of organized crime. He had barely dipped his toe into the pool, and he had no intent of going for a swim, lest he be forced to do things he really didn’t want to do. Killing unknowns was one thing, once it got personal, it was a completely different story. He began to chop some scallions, thinking that a simple miso soup would be best for the night.
“Not much more than you’re already doing, it would be limited to in and out type, nothing close or personal.” Geto said. Choso heard the sliding of ceramic on the counter. “However once you add days into the mix, things become…easier. More efficient.” Choso paused, setting down his kitchen knife and turning to face Geto. Geto took a sip of his tea, eyebrows raised.
“I can’t-“
“You can’t do days, yes, I know.” Geto interrupted him. “But what you mean by that is that you can’t do days before 8:00am and after 2:00pm.”
Choso opened his mouth, then closed it again, frowning. While that was true, he usually used that time to get some chores done, cleaning, shopping, sleeping if he had the time for it.
“Why would I waste time I use for personal reasons to get a few more jobs in? To what, make a little bit more money?” Choso turned back around, grabbing his scallions and chopping them with a little more force than was necessary.
“Your pay would double.” Choso faltered at that, eyes going wide as he stared at his cutting board. “Not just for day missions, the night ones as well.”
Oh.
That changed things. They were doing fine as they were, but that was it. Fine. They had a small house, could afford to eat, maybe go out once and a while like they had today. If his pay doubled, he could start saving. Putting money away for Yuuji to guarantee a bright future. Start an emergency fund. Maybe live a little less frugally. And that was all Choso wanted really, to give Yuuji a good life.
“I’m not expecting an answer right now, you can think about it.” Ceramic clinked against the countertop and wooden stool legs slid back against the floor. “You can tell me tomorrow, or give me a call earlier, or later, if you can’t decide.” Footsteps padded to his front door, where he heard Geto slide on his shoes. “Have a good night, Choso. See you tomorrow.”
The front door opened and closed, leaving Choso alone with his half chopped scallions.