Chapter Text
It was impossible, what they wanted him to do.
Acrid smoke blew back in Hitoshi's face as he held the cigarette close, trying fruitlessly to protect it from an insistently blowing rain. He took another drag, inhaling even as it drew an already weak cherry closer and closer to wet paper.
Steady feet along a cobbled together patchwork of road that desperately needed to be redone. The rain hadn't been going on all that long but dry patches of concrete were becoming harder to spot, ashy gray going dark with damp. Hints of sea water and something left to rot down on the beach met his nose, pushing past the scents of an oil-slick city and the curl of burning tobacco. Hitoshi pulled his hoodie tighter around his frame and took another long drag like he needed smokey nicotine more than air.
It was Impossible, what they wanted him to do. It couldn't be done. And if it could, Hitoshi didn't want to be the one to do it.
The concrete jungle thinned and then finally parted for a wide stretch of horizontal road and his breath caught looking at the view across the unofficial safety threshold.
Pier 59. A reaching stretch of saturated timber and concrete, the wood planks fat with water from the bay. Atop the two forks of it sat neighboring buildings that should have been nowhere near each other but were. On the left a convoluted cluster of restaurants and not one but two shitty bars all fighting for space in the same architectural nightmare with a large, slow spinning ferris wheel further down at its end. And to the right, across a small gap of water and looking downright small in comparison, despite being a hulking stretch all on its own —the Aquarium.
It looked classy. In a way. Like an old-timey warehouse. One that might have actually been functional in the port once upon a time. It was painted up nice; dark coat, white trim stained by the frequent bouts of rain. The stretch of pier that bordered it like a frame glowed under the harsh light of old lamps with bulbs too bright and, had he been a tourist, Hitoshi would have found it close to picture perfect.
It was a clever front. Hitoshi wasn't the first to think it and he likely wouldn't be the last.
Despite knowing that he would have no success and wanting none to begin with, caring very little for the consequences when he failed, Hitoshi put out his cigarette with a careless hand and the stamp of his heel to cross the street.
He played tourist even though he wasn't one. Wandered along the left fork, casting looks across the gap and wondering at the small, rectangular windows all lined up along the side. He ate at the restaurant closest to his honeymoon destination, fought the urge to light another cigarette until the rain finally let up and settled at a mist, and then did just that. He stared at glowing white lights along the pier's edge and the shimmering collection of ripples between the posts underneath. He stood in line for an age, even in the drizzle, and paid too much for a slushee that didn't have enough booze to make it worth it. And he reasoned it all away, remembering that none of it mattered, and sat for the experience as he caught an overhead view, staring at the building's furthest edge from a ways behind.
It looked ominous, from that angle. Jutting out over the water so much further than it seemed from the front. Reaching. Like even if he went further out to sea, it would still find a way to follow.
The boy shivered on the crunch of icy slush between his teeth and swallowed it down, positive the discomfort in his belly was coming from the off-putting rock of the ferris wheel and nothing else.
The Aquarium was closed now and had been for hours, but it wouldn't stay that way. Hitoshi found it infinitely strange to know that, during the day, people not in-the-know came and went without a second thought. Students and families and lovers and even the elderly. All gawking at the vast array of tanks and the marine life they held in transparent glass. The marvels that still drew a crowd even twenty years after their reveal.
Hitoshi himself had gone, in the third grade. The awe of seeing them, a fantasy brought to life and happy to wave from just behind the glass, remained in his memory as a rare point of happiness.
Nostalgia had him swallowing down the last biting gulp flavored slush and, when they touched down, Hitoshi tossed the empty cup and his memories with it.
Even with the rain, it took the crowd a while to thin. The ferris wheel had long since been shut down for the night — glowing and bright but still — and the bar near the back was the only thing left open. There were no good views of his target from there so Hitoshi skulked. He skulked through the dark, in the rain, moseying on over to the Aquarium in his own due time to poke around.
It was Impossible, what they wanted him to do. It couldn't be done. And if it could, Hitoshi didn't want to be the one to do it. But he could pretend to make an effort anyway.
Thinking about it left him with the phantom burn of inhaled water deep in his sinus cavity and Hitoshi could only hope that it would be quick and not as painful as everyone imagined.
His adventurous curiosity seemed to go unobserved for the most part. He wandered without an issue, peeking around corners and behind boxes, glancing in dumpsters. Practically minding his own business. It wasn't until he reached the furthest corner — an entire building and a gap of sea between him and even the vaguest hope of a witness — that danger finally presented itself.
"Hey! You're not supposed to be back here."
A gruff voice. Low baritone. Higher on the exclamation.
A range started to form in Hitoshi's mind as he spun to face the stranger, playing at being surprised.
"Oh fuck! Woah! You uhh, you really came out of nowhere there, buddy! Scared me."
"The Aquarium is closed and there's no loitering on the premises." The mustache pointed directly to a no trespassing sign.
No nonsense. Voice level and calm but firm. Used to chasing people off. Expecting to be listened to the first time.
The range narrowed by a few slivers.
"Oh yeah, no, I get it! Sorry! I was just looking around. I promise I'm not here for like, vandalism or anything." He looked down at his non-existent packs and laughed. "No spray cans with me this time."
"Doesn't matter. Area is off limits after close. You need to leave."
Tone still level but unyielding. Will not be distracted.
It narrowed the man’s range down significantly but, despite being a lot more specific, it felt harder to match. It wouldn't need to be a perfect fit, but there wasn't much room for a fuck up.
Hitoshi's throat bobbed and the vocal folds within shifted.
Focused. No give. Assertive. Most likely a short thinker.
Subtly clearing his throat, Hitoshi made an attempt with The Voice.
"An exception. No harm no foul. Just a tourist taking a gander."
His lips barely moved.
The bit on the end felt like a risk but something told Hitoshi it was the right call, and when he heard the man grunt and cross his arms, he started to sweat, wondering if he just fucked up big time.
"Guess it's not a problem. Area is deserted anyway and everyone's gone home."
There was a sigh of relief and Hitoshi nodded, hanging on the edge of his cover by falling into a quick but empty ramble about enjoying the ocean at night. Which is, of course, when his lucky streak snapped.
"Marv! Are you still yackin’ that kid? What's takin' so long?"
A skinny dude in overalls came bounding over at a jog, stopping beside the gruff man that Hitoshi assumed was Marv.
The mustache uncrossed his arms and let them fall, leaving his body language open and neutral. "Kid's alright. Just some tourist sightseeing. Told him he was fine."
The other raised both brows and stared at Marv, incredulous, and Hitoshi instinctively knew that he was busted.
Despite knowing it was just a matter of time anyway (like one of those unwinnable arcade games with no real end but that couldn't be fed any more quarters) the first touches of fear still made themselves known inside his chest.
"Tourist or not, orders are orders, you know that. The fuck, Marv?" The guy barked, giving his acquaintance an almost friendly shove.
And if his arrival hadn't already, that seemed to snap the first guy back to full awareness. Narrowed eyes landed heavily on his form.
There was a knowing in that gaze. In the weight of it. A sudden realization that the twiggy, unassuming kid had done something and tampered where he shouldn't have. And, just like with everyone else that Hitoshi used The Voice on, the man Was Not Pleased.
Knowing what was likely coming, Hitoshi swore under his breath and went to back away only to have the big guy surprise him with his speed. A meaty hand grabbed his hood and part of his collar while the other hand swung like a pendulum and hit him right in the gut. The blunt wave of force rocked through his thin frame and Hitoshi wanted to puke, hunched over with damp cotton digging into the front of his throat as his stomach rolled around in agony. All he could see were wet strands of his own hair and shoes that seemed too shiny.
"Some mind trick?" Marv gruffed, shaking him by the collar hard enough that Hitoshi almost stumbled. His stomach rolled again and the bile crawling up his esophagus threatened to spew. "HUH?!"
The other man spoke up finally. "Let me guess, a rat? Your filthy lot are always sniffin' about."
He hadn't realized the newcomer had British roots. That would have helped with a quick range gauge. Too late now. He already knew his fate so Hitoshi sped up the process by lifting an arm and giving a solid thumbs up.
The other grabbed a fistful of his wet hair and Hitoshi hissed as his face was yanked up into view, narrowed eyes darting up only to meet the sight of an unforgiving fist.
Pain blasted across Hitoshi’s face, driving into his cheek bone and whipping his perspective sharply to one side. Without the fist in his collar it would have sent him straight to the ground but the harness of wet hoodie and the unforgiving hand in his hair kept him mostly stationary. It was just as instinctive to lull his head back to the side as it was stupid because the second blast came immediately. Knuckles connected savagely with his face and Hitoshi groaned, already seeing stars. The bean pole packed a wallop and he could feel it the second blood started to trickle from his nose.
"Let's take him to the Boss." Marv grunted.
The other clicked his tongue, shaking out his fist and preparing for another go.
"Boss is busy. Already had one arsehole try and pull something today. Those damn beasts are probably picking him from between their teeth as we speak."
For a split second Hitoshi wondered if he was going to be stricken with lucky misfortune, if they were going to let him go to face the failure back at the last place he'd been forced to call home.
He didn't want it. Just as much as he didn't want to do this job.
The pitch was wildly off, vocal range completely jacked, but Hitoshi didn't bother to correct it when he made a second attempt with The Voice.
"Not worth fighting over the kid. Best to let him go." He slurred, and they both seemed to feel it miss. The right syntax, wrong tone, worsened significantly by the blood in his nose.
Marv's eyes hardened and he wrenched his head back further, making Hitoshi hiss.
"No. This one sees the Boss. Got some... Freaky ability. I'm not taking any chances. He can take a swim.”
The hand stringing him up like a noose pulled taut finally released and Hitoshi moved to straighten up only to have that meaty fist send him down to the ground with a devastating left hook. Concrete dug into his palms as Hitoshi tried to push himself up, but he should have known better. The whole thing proved entirely fruitless when those too-shiny shoes met his ribs, driving the oxygen from his lungs and sending him right back down.
It wasn't the first beat down he'd taken but it sucked regardless and Hitoshi took it as best as he could, trying to protect his head and his soft middle bits as the two goons kicked the shit out of him and then hefted him up, dragging him through the Aquarium.
It was a fever dream of a journey, each step one of radiating pain, dim but vibrant lighting, and darting movements within his peripheral as the marine life swam in their enclosures. The whole place looked alien. Lit up an unnatural blue, cylindrical like they were moving through a series of tunnels, but still boxy somehow. Devoid of people. Mostly.
Hitoshi tried to stay with it while they walked but he was in and out. Aching. Really seeing stars, or maybe that was just tiny fish. Most definitely dripping blood on the floor. He knew they went around some turns and down some stairs but it was hard to pay attention when, every time he lifted his head, all he could see was blips of light and sea life swimming by as though none of them were even there.
But then a set of doors were opening and he was awash in uncanny green, filtered light.
A large office backed by a captured piece of the sea. Massive panes of clear glass, nearly pitch black at the top near the water's surface, illuminated from beneath.
Ominous.
It was a glimpse into a different world, one none of them belonged to, not anymore, and his vision swam in time with the water. It should have been beautiful, even with the dark surface of the bay at its head, but all Hitoshi could see was shreds of red meat viewed through sea glass. Blood stained water and two massive bodies writhing amongst the pieces.
His voice was entirely his own when Hitoshi screamed and fainted.
He woke to a gag in his mouth, aching fiercely but otherwise far too comfortable for someone that needed to be gagged and tied up.
Opening his eyes was disorienting and Hitoshi's stomach rolled like a drunk night out and a bad case of the spins at the way the room moved in his vision. He tried again and it still felt like a physical recoil but his eyes remained open. Even as his stomach mimicked a disturbed water bed ready to burst.
"Hey, you're finally up!" A cheerful voice sounded somewhere nearby.
He nearly upended himself off the... Lounge— at the strangely inviting tone. Despite not hitting the floor, Hitoshi kind of wished he would have because, instead, he was sitting up in a clumsy scramble and everything hurt. The desire to vomit was high and taking in his surroundings only made it worse.
It was the worst sort of time travel. Blinking once just as the night started, and blinking again to streams of sunlight on a calmly rolling surface. Like a blackout without the booze. And, while the world looked different during the day, Hitoshi wasn't sure it was better.
The room he'd been dragged to the night before did turn out to be an office. A massive one. Or maybe it just seemed massive because of the fishtank at its back. It held bookshelves and a desk and the lounge he was sitting on and even a nice rug, but all Hitoshi saw was the tank.
It's heart.
An explosion of underwater life, pretty as a picture. Shifting swaying swirling stilling sea glass, all alive with the tide. Mossy seagrass drifting with the flow, clinging to a thick trunk at the base of the tank. It stood in a wonky arch, the top flat rather than rounded. Its center was misshapen but kept catching his attention like some kind of keyhole in a Rorschach blot. Hitoshi couldn't tell if it was real or fake, reef or wood. All he could see was underwater flora on and around it, a dark, roping spiral around one side, leaves and stems and clusters of green. Sunlight streaming down from above.
And standing between him and it; a man.
A broad man.
He was leaning up against the edge of the desk, thick arms crossed over his chest, one ankle lazily slung over the other. A picture of relaxation with a cloud of vibrantly soft blue hair atop his head and a smile to boot, but the sight of him did not inspire ease. It should have, the dude was wearing cargo shorts for Christ's sake, but the strangely unique sight of him only confirmed a more terrifying reality.
"Had the doctor give you something. Didn't expect you to sleep till morning! But eh," He shrugged. "I wasn't in any rush. Gave time for the water to dissipate.
Violet eyes flickered back to the tank and Hitoshi suddenly recalled, in vibrant, intrusive detail, how much thicker the water looked when it was messy and soupy with red chunks.
Shirakumo Oboro laughed.
"That's the business for ya!" He said cheerfully. "All for that look. Reputation proceeds and all that."
"So." He continued, half twisting to root around his desk until he had a small bag of crisps in hand. "My night guy, Marv — great guy by the way, kind of a stick in the mud, makes insane potato salad when we do a potluck, it's killer, really good stuff — Marv is convinced you've got some kind of—"
He trailed off, like he was searching for whatever term he wanted to use, and the chip in his hand circled whatever wheel was turning with it in his brain.
"Vocal ability, I guess. Something freaky, according to him. Called you a witch." Shirakumo popped the chip into his mouth.
Hitoshi was so used to being called a freak, or freaky, or freakish, that he didn't flinch under it, even if he still felt the lash.
"It was a pretty impressive spiel! Him insisting that I use a gag to keep you from snatchin' up my mind and wrecking the place.”
The other man shrugged, like it amused him, and continued to munch on the snack in hand.
Tired eyes stared through the man with the smile, waiting. For an accusation, a claim to victory, a threat, something. Certain that it didn't matter which it was because the ending was set and he'd already been burned by the narrative. A shit end for a shit life. Hitoshi just wanted to get on with it.
Aquarium's leader tossed another chip into his mouth.
"Is that something I need to worry about, Shinsou Hitoshi?"
The question brought him up short, almost as much as the casual use of his first and last name. Hitoshi stared at him in startled alarm that lacked surprise, but Shirakumo Oboro remained unphased. The terrifyingly casual man was too busy shifting around the contents of his snack bag and Hitoshi was left to stare until blue eyes looked his way and Shirakumo spoke directly to him.
"Do I need to worry about you snagging my mind, Shinsou?"
The boy stared. And stared some more. And then stared a little longer. Locking both of them in a weird, unexpected stalemate. Calm the way a stint in the doldrums was calm, and that was to say, forced still under the oppressive power of the ocean but wrought with nerves and unease. Even still, the older man didn't look away. He continued to wait. Impassable. And the predatory stillness of it struck him just as much as the smile that should have felt uncanny but didn't.
Slowly, Hitoshi introduced movement back to the ocean and shook his head.
"But you could. If you wanted to."
It wasn't spoken like a question, but Hitoshi knew that it was one. He wasn't sure if it was an opportunity to establish trust, a test, or just a confirmation. Any one of them felt just as likely but, given where he was and what was likely about to happen, the truth felt less hard. Less pointless. Less of a painful end, maybe.
Hitoshi nodded.
The thing was though, Hitoshi didn't actually believe he could snag the man's control out from under him. His throat ached and his mouth felt dry despite the spit soaked fabric stuffed behind his teeth. He had blood in nose last time he checked, probably in his sinus now too, and Hitoshi was all too familiar with how difficult it was to try and use The Voice when someone was expecting it.
That... And Hitoshi wasn't positive he could nail the other man's range. Even if he had full faculties.
Planning to use it or not, it was second nature for him to keep an ear out for a range with just about everyone he interacted with, whether he intended to use his enigmatic ability or not. Hitoshi wasn't actively trying to use it — too out of it, too tired, too scared and resigned to try again after the last attempt — but he still noted some of the other’s characteristics anyway and Shirakumo Oboro's voice...
It was... difficult.
Upbeat. Flexible somehow. But sturdy. And... Amused? Maybe. Entertained? Casually in control, for sure. With some other mix of complicated nuisance.
The boy couldn't get a quick grip on it, and if he couldn't do that then he couldn't even begin to guess at what kind of thought pattern might be going on in there, rendering him nearly declawed and helpless with his ability.
But Hitoshi nodded anyway.
"Huh." Shirakumo mused, breaking the stillness even further to fish out another chip and pop it into his mouth. "Life sure does like her little surprises." A shrug followed and he dropped the bag carelessly into the trash. "Can't blame her. Everyone loves a good mystery."
The mafioso pushed himself off the desk and stood at his full height to brush the salt off his hands and approach, taking Hitoshi off guard by how big the other man really was.
He'd already noted that Shirakumo was broad and thick in the arms, chest too, but he was also tall. Way too tall to be that beefy. With a thick waist that felt almost ridiculous to be considered narrow, even though it was, for him. Shirakumo was a hulking figure. A long torso and trunks for legs, a thick neck beneath a boyish face that shouldn't have looked so easy-going on the man it belonged to. And it was all that, but it was also the fact that his energy that took up whatever was left, filling the space that remained with his presence.
One of those large hands reached for him and Hitoshi's pitifully resigned heart hammered inside his chest like it was about to take off.
Only to drop out of his ass when the other man took hold of his gag and removed it.
"What are you doing?" Hitoshi croaked stupidly but Shirakumo's smile just widened a fraction.
"Didn't try to go for it the moment your mouth was free, huh? Seems like a good sign."
The other man turned his back on him and walked away, laughing, to approach the tank. Carefree as anything, and despite being zip tied and at a disadvantage, it left Hitoshi askew. Because it didn’t feel cocky, it didn’t feel arrogant, but drove home that the other man didn’t consider him a threat. Even without the gag.
"I didn't think you would but eh, I've been wrong about stuff before. Worth the risk. I get enough one-sided conversations as it is and Aizawa is full. Hard to convince him to eat up if he's full and Hizashi isn't with him."
Aizawa and Hizashi.
At the sound of his name, movement of a different sort drew Hitoshi's attention to the tank and the thick black coil he'd fleetingly noticed all wound around the seagrass covered arch slipped over itself. Moving. Slithering free and shifting into proper view and Hitoshi's breath caught.
Long. A long, terrifying brushstroke of light-sucking black ink from the ragged, eel-like tail up to the creature's head. Even if he couldn't have seen it's lower half, there was no mistaking it for human. Not really.
Black, rubbery-looking skin. Webbed, claw-tipped fingers. Spines along it's forearms, black ridges along the shoulders and down the whole of its back. Deep, flaring gill slits on either side of it's ribs, and tiger-like stripes where some mimicry of human skin seemed to layer itself in. It's belly looked fleshy and pale like a human, as did the underside of it’s upper arms and across the chest up to the throat. Most of the face too.
And it did have a face.
An eerie, distinctly human face that wasn't, with speckles of black scales over it’s cheeks and across it’s nose like a blush. All acting as a home for two piercing yellow eyes that stared through him.
Hitoshi shivered.
"Bigger than I remember."
"Seen him before, have you? That's unexpected! Hizashi tends to be the show hog." Shirakumo jerked his thumb towards the glass. "This one isn't very social."
That complicated, hard to pin voice turned curious. "How old were you?"
"Nine.”
"Christ, kid. Way to make a man feel old." He replied with a laugh and Hitoshi bristled on instinct.
"I'm not a kid."
A light blue eyebrow rose. "No?"
"No. I'm twenty three and you have no idea what I've seen or done."
It burned through him, that offense, momentarily replacing the fear. Hitoshi could hear aspects of The Voice leaking in to curl around his words like a hiss of warning.
Sky blue eyebrows rose higher.
"Tell me about it."
An angry mouth opened to slap the carefree smile off that open face like the snap of a glove with some gore-heavy shock value but the deep-sea Mer gliding through the tank reminded Hitoshi of where he was and who they both were.
Him, an intended saboteur of The Network. And the man across from him... the one who would get rid of him for it.
The fire within was promptly stamped out.
Hitoshi came to the Aquarium to fulfill no purpose, knowing what would happen. Wanting it, in a sense. Nobody wanted to be fish food. It terrified the shit out of everyone, himself included, and that’s why it was such an effective, clear cut ‘fuck around and find out’ warning that just about everyone steered clear of when they could, but Hitoshi was tired. Tired of trying to do the impossible. Tired of achieving the impossible by somehow managing to shove enough shit and then still getting nothing in return. Tired of belonging nowhere. Accepted... But only barely tolerated. Outcast no matter where he went or who used him.
Fire doused, Hitoshi stared at the creature behind the glass, watching it ignore him and crack open muscles with casual savagery, wondering if it would look just as indifferent when it was his turn.
"It doesn't matter." Hitoshi eventually said, voice resigned to a fate that felt like it'd been sealed the second he set foot on Pier 59. "What I've done? It doesn't change anything. It won't help you or give you an upper hand. It's nothing but graves and all the shit in ‘em is dead anyway."
It was a little unreal, watching the powerful man watching him tip his head to the side like an overgrown dog trying to understand. Seeing him like that, it was hard to believe that he was one of the most feared mafia leaders in the region. Strange to imagine how much blood was on his hands and how many lives had stopped short because of the mouth that now sat in a confused arc. But even the nicest dogs had teeth capable of ripping out a throat, and Hitoshi forced himself to remember that.
He opened his mouth to ask Shirakumo to just get on with it and get it over with when a pop of sunny color swam into the tank and his words stalled out, quiet awe replacing them.
Hizashi.
The pretty reef mermaid.
The second Mer looked angelic, like a sunset daydream come to life. A vibrant yellow and rich orange and the creamiest white. Frilly fins, with regal looking spines along his back and little patches of smaller spines laid out in little island-like dollops along the stretch of his arms. The creature had enough stripes to put a lionfish to shame. Less inhuman looking than the deep sea one, the divide between its humanoid and fish attributes less drastic. Scales blended up into flesh near the waist, collections of them scattered over its body like freckles begging to catch the sunlight, flowing blonde hair like a shawl in the wind. It had large fins for ears, and spines like a widows peak on it’s forehead — an undersea crown if there ever was one.
Hitoshi watched the creature swim in and lay atop the mossy arch, draped over it like a rich woman in an evening gown. The Mer’s tail was laid out to rest while the meat of it’s core hung over the gap and down towards it's companion, waiting to be fed a muscle by the other.
Hitoshi unconsciously stood and moved towards the tank, staring openly at the two creatures within.
They were a source of wonderment within their community. Two Mers. Tamed. Shown off and openly displayed for the world to see. Hitoshi could still remember the media circus, years and years ago, back when he was only three or four and they were first revealed to the public. The eighth wonder of the world. Mythical no longer.
Standing there, looking at them both up close for the first time in over ten years, Hitoshi suddenly remembered being a kid, way back before he knew the truth. Remembered attending the Aquarium with his class on a field trip, a mere six years after their initial reveal, and being lucky enough to see them both that day. Remembered the frilly reef Mer winking at him and thinking about how human that seemed while the other sulked in the background.
Hitoshi wished, some days, that it would have ended there. Wished he would've moved far, far away before he could ever learn the dark, underlying reality of why two such creatures hung out in willing captivity.
In the most morbid way possible, Hitoshi couldn't help but think that it would be some kind of honor to be eaten by them. Even if it terrified him down to his bones.
Shirakumo's calm voice sounded from directly behind him, at the shoulder, and somehow Hitoshi didn't jump.
"Are you scared?"
The boy didn't take his eyes off the two creatures, fine with being ignored by them as they interacted with each other instead.
"Yeah." He admitted. "Everyone in our business is, I think. Terrified of ending up in there as just another pile of bones for the ocean to take."
Pastel eyes glanced towards the bottom and Hitoshi was positive he could see some of them down there. Ribs poking up from between the flora like stalks of coral.
"But I'm tired. I knew what I was doing."
There was a long pause and he used it to watch the near comical back and forth of the reef Mer dramatically pleading with it’s companion to open the stubborn shells and the deep sea creature frowning somethin’ fierce while doing it anyway, much to the excitement of the brightly colored daydream.
"What were you doing here, Shinsou?"
Hitoshi stared at the twin wonders within the case.
"Darling wanted me to kill the two Mers.”
The man at his back stiffened, and so did the fish. They stilled in their play and looked at him with frighteningly intense eyes. It was in that moment that Hitoshi realized they weren't just semi-intelligent animals with a few human tricks. They understood him. They were aware. And it amazed him just as much as it made him want to cower away.
"He didn't care how I did it." Hitoshi continued, more bitter than ever. "Smash the tanks, poison the water, shoot 'em. He didn't care. He just wanted me to do it. And I... Couldn't. Wouldn't."
Both hands clenched into fists at the small of his back where they were bound and Hitoshi swallowed, braving the truth.
"I didn't want to do it. But failure isn't an option. They don't want me... And I don't want them. But I had no other choice, so I just... Went for it. Did a mediocre job hoping I'd get caught and that it'd finally be over."
The room was silent for a long beat before the mafioso spoke up.
"And you're okay with that?"
Was he?
It was better than the alternative. Better than going back empty handed, maybe to be killed for failure, maybe to be forced back to shoveling shit for them. It was better than forcing himself to kill something he didn’t want to kill.
Slim shoulders rose in a shrug.
"At least a meal can be of use to someone.”
A large and unexpected hand was suddenly on his face and Hitoshi jerked but the aborted motion did nothing. His chin was still in Shirakumo's possession and the weight of the ocean settled on top of him as their eyes met.
It was hard to look at him, like the man was peering into him and judging him down to the core. The vulnerability was hard to take, feeling like he was being seen like that, but it also hurt, somehow. Maybe because Hitoshi already knew that he'd be found wanting, even if he didn't fully understand why.
The assertive grip tipped his head this way and that, looking at him. Into him. Into his eyes and over the cut of his jaw.
The picture painted itself as he was scrutinized like a show pony at an auction. Up Close and personal to a bottomless set of eyes… but also privy to the weathered skin of a man that was nearly fifty. Aware of the crows that must have stood at the corners of his eyes. Taken aback, a little, at the deepening laugh lines that swore the man didn’t smile just to intimidate and the boyish handsomeness that had no reason to look that refined on a man that might as well have been a mountain.
Shirakumo Oboro shrugged.
"Don't look all that useless to me."
Hitoshi's world fell out from under him and he felt snagged, hook and line, as the other released his face and gave the shoulder of his hoodie a loose tug.
"Not much of a dresser though."
He didn't know what it meant. Hitoshi felt untethered and surprised and moved but also too shocked to be moved and suddenly he couldn't tell if he was going to be killed or not. For some reason that scared him more than certain death
"Work for me."
The mustache's gut punch rocked him less than that bluntly thrown out life preserver and Hitoshi stared and him, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to grab hold of it or just drown.
"What?"
"I said I want you to work for me."
Hitoshi's little bubble of astounded panic snapped and he could physically feel the vocal folds in his throat shift to adopt a more maniac delivery.
"No, I heard—! I mean, I didn't know, if I heard, actually, but I did! I did hear you but why could you possibly want—?!"
"Because you're not a coward."
The wind was ripped out of his sails and Hitoshi was right back in the doldrums, standing there in a frozen outburst as he stared, wide-eyed, at the blue haired enigma that just stood there.
The confused and conflicted boy didn't know what to say. Didn’t know what he could say. Had no idea how to tell the most powerful man he'd ever even heard of that he was wrong and Hitoshi was a coward. That only cowards walked to their death with their tail tucked between their trembling legs and that the job offer was very flattering but he was under-qualified and out of his mind and completely positive that the whole thing was a big misunderstanding. Either a mistake or just another loop in the cycle of being used.
"Reputation proceeds. I said that before."
Hitoshi stilled but nodded with a hint of caution and Shirakumo continued on like he would have even without it.
"You were given a job and you came to do it. Without any intention of doing it. Aware that coming hear meant a watery grave. The rumors about what that's like can not be pretty."
Thin arms crossed his own chest and Hitoshi looked away to stare at the two Mers inside the tank, watching Hizashi finger comb his own hair while Aizawa sulked. Seeing the two creatures domestic and docile like that… It was hard to imagine them at the terrifying heart of all the horrific ways people imagined being fed to the fishes. Even having seen the bloody tank himself.
"They're not."
"Yeah, because it fucking sucks."
Lilac eyes snapped up to the older man's face, taken by surprise at the crass but bluntly honest truth of it.
"Being drowned and eaten alive isn't on anyone's top five list of ways to go. It's not. Because it's a terrifying and painful end. The rumors barely begin to cover it. But you're still here."
Hitoshi was starting to get impatient, not understanding, and that budding agitation showed through.
"So what? I came to die, big whoop. There's nothing brave about that."
Shirakumo's puppy dog features adopted a loud, 'Do I look stupid?' expression and Hitoshi floundered. He was looking at him like Hitoshi was the one trying to pull the wool over his eyes. He didn’t even know what the fuck was going on right now! But apparently he'd missed something important along the way and Hitoshi had no idea how to catch back up.
Blue eyes turned in a charismatic roll and Shirakumo shook his head with a sigh that didn't sound fondly condescending, but felt like it anyway, and Hitoshi didn't know what to think.
"Cowards don’t choose the more painful way to die when they see no other option. That’s reserved for the people with a little bravery and too much hope."
Hitoshi's mouth snapped shut.
"I'm not an idiot. You could have said no, gotten shot or put on shitty assignment duty for your troubles. Quick, painless. Hell, maybe not even dead. No, you chose to come here to die. Why?"
The office was rapidly becoming suffocating and dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than the ax poised over the back of his neck, and Hitoshi couldn't help glancing around in a building panic. But there was nothing. Books and some furniture and too much space and water meant to be a grave. It was irrational, and despite knowing it was irrational, it suddenly felt like there wasn't enough air beneath all that water.
He focused on a bookshelf just over Shirakumo's shoulder. On a deep blue binding that stood out among the other volumes and tried desperately to get through it and soldier on.
"I didn't want to die in Dragon territory, okay? It’s not that deep." He resorted. "Letting one of those assholes pull the trigger on me while I just sit there because I said no? I don't think so. Or how about working for them as a failure that can't carry out orders? Yeah, that sounds fun."
Hitoshi sneered, wanting out of this interaction, wound up and confused and too emotionally spun and upheaved to try and keep up with the game.
"Honestly? Who knows. Not me."
Shirakumo clicked his tongue, seemingly disappointed, and for some reason that stung.
"Nnnnnno. No, I don't think so. You know and I want you to tell me." He insisted. "Why did you choose to die here?"
The harshly bitten edges of his nails dug into Hitoshi's palms as he clenched his fists behind his back and glared up at the head of the portside mafia, Higher-up of The Network, arguing with him as the two stood backlit by the tank.
"There isn't a reason, okay? I just came. I picked this one! Got to see the beach, get a drink on the ferris wheel. Great last night! What does it matter?"
But Shirakumo just kept looking at him. Having already made his judgment with that dumb, open face and those piercing eyes. Hitoshi felt the stab of his gaze like a pin in his wing.
"Stop lying. You don't need to. Just tell me why. "
"I don't have a reason! I—"
"You do and I want to know it."
"I can't give you what I don't have!"
"Nope, tell me."
“Would you just—”
“No, tell me.”
"I can't—"
"Tell me."
"I can't—!"
"Tell me."
"I CAN'T!!!"
The shrieking overlap ripped itself out of some dark, hidden fold in Hitoshi's panic-ridden vocal range and the boy snapped, breaking down and crying in a crystallized moment of pure humiliation as Shirakumo Oboro pushed too far and words started to pour out.
"I don't know! Okay?! I don't know what to tell you! I just want to die somewhere that isn't there! I wanted to fuck around and find out and get busted and see something beautiful before I get ripped to shreds by the scariest thing on earth and I WANT IT TO BE OVER!! Okay!? I just want it to be over!" He screamed. "The ordering and the kneeling and the groveling and the being a fucking slave!! Being hated and ignored and lonely while I shovel shit! Thrown out and ordered to do this and that and doing it and doing it and doing it and getting nothing! No matter what I accomplish!!! All because of some freaky vocal ability that I don't want or understand and I just want it to be over! ”
Hitoshi was howling into the office, feeling the sound reverberate off the walls and against the glass. The Voice was zipping through his every word, directionless, warping his pitch and vocal tone all over the place as he vomited up exhausted anguish like a lungful of seawater through a raw throat.
“I want to stop being a fucking tool and just accept that there's nowhere for me! I don't belong! I've never belonged! I've never gonna belong. Not anywhere! So I just want to let everyone know that I got the goddamn message so maybe I can just— just fucking die in the only cool place I ever got to see in my life!! And maybe! Maybe I want it to be for something! Even if it's just — just — just m-me making sure somebody knows Darling Cruel is gunning for the Mers! And m-maybe if I can do that then I can be fine with me being turned into a f-fucking... pile of Mer shit and bones!”
Tears were pouring down his face and his throat was bobbing and spasming in an uncomfortable hiccup. The boy swayed and choked out another harsh sob when his shoulder collided with the unyielding glass but Hitoshi didn't bother righting himself. He just leaned his head into the tank, slumping into it as he cried and tried his best to stay standing.
"I can be a tool to live, b-but I can't be the one that killed the mermaids," Hitoshi sobbed. "I can't. I can't! I can't live as a fucking gh-ghost and then die as the guy that took mermaids away from the world— I can't, I can't."
He shook his head in distress, rubbing sweaty, lilac hair against the glass in the process.
"I'm— I'm n-nothing, I’m tired of being nothing. I just want to die as nothing. Away from them. Away f-from everyone. Where the magic is still around and everything isn't shit and maybe I did something of use.”
His voice had evened out through the sobs and the catches in his breath as he lost steam but his dry throat ached and Hitoshi couldn’t imagine how he must have sounded to the other man.
A shadow fell over his face and Hitoshi cracked his ruined eyes open, seeing through a blurry haze that Shirakumo was facing him, leaning up against the glass in a copycat of him, looking far more relaxed and less wrecked than his mirror.
"Come work for me."
"But why?!" Hitoshi demanded in a sob, not understanding. "Didn't you hear a word I just said?! I have nothing to offer you! I'm nothing. I’m not gonna belong in Cloud territory anymore than I did anywhere else! Just—"
Shirakumo cut him off.
"See, but the thing is, I don't agree. I think you've got plenty to offer and I hate throwing potential into the tank. Breaks my heart. Especially when it's the good stuff."
"You're not listening," Hitoshi choked.
"Yeah I know, because I've got more experience and a better eye than you and you don't know what you're talking about. Sorry kid—"
"I'm not a kid!"
"But I know potential when I see it and—"
"There’s no point!"
"—I really think that you could be employee of the month if you put your heart into it. So I think you should come work for me. Give it a chance, test out a different way of life. We’re all about the unusual around here and—"
Frantic and overwhelmed and so overwrought with denial that tasted too much like joy and a desperation to get him to shut up and stop talking and stop making him believe—! Hitoshi grabbed the happily chatting older man by the collar and displayed an unexpected amount of strength as he pulled himself in and kissed him as a manic, unthinking, last resort.
It was wet and messy and passionate with the height of his anxiety and, if nothing else, Shirakumo Oboro would likely kill him where he stood for daring to—
A large hand threaded through his wild hair to grasp the back of his skull and Hitoshi squeaked as the broad, thick-chested mafioso pinned him to the tank and kissed him hard.
That calm silly-smiling mouth kissed him like it owned him, dominating his lips and moving them both a coaxing, gliding dance that made Hitoshi want to do nothing but surrender. His head spun and the boy pressed himself into it, tasting and sampling and enjoying.
He never got to have anything... But he could have this, maybe. Just a little.
Covered lips fed Shirakumo a whine when the elder shuffled in snug and sandwiched Hitoshi between himself and the glass. A warm, strong body at his front while the ocean sat cool and threatening behind him. Hitoshi could feel the Mers there, too. At his back. Lost in the chaos but not entirely forgotten as he was pierced by their stare like an acupuncture session — the only thing standing between them and the vulnerable column of his spine being the very glass Hitoshi trembled against.
A thick thigh pressed between both of his and Hitoshi gasped, parting their lips on accident while his eyes snapped open, wide and befuddled.
Shirakumo loomed over him. Firm. Unyielding. Leaned against the glass in a jut not unlike the jagged edge of a cliff, high and seemingly untouchable.
The persuasive fire in those eyes felt unquenchable, unbeatable, even if he didn't understand it.
Hitoshi didn't know what he wanted. To Be or Not to Be, and all that. He didn't know what use the other man thought he could get out of him. Didn't know if it would be different, or just another dead end. More shit to shovel into a different wheelbarrow. But he knew what the man would ask, before he spoke.
The un-ranged voice was huskier than he'd heard it either time before.
"Work for me."
“Shirakumo Oboro doesn’t flip prisoners.”
Ocean eyes sparkled, even with all that dark, glassy heat, and the corner of his eyes crinkled.
“I’m not the dread pirate Roberts out here. I’m just a man offering you a place.”
Hitoshi hesitated, and Shirakumo seemed to sense his fear. It felt unreal how gentle the other man’s voice could become — yet another complicated addition to his range — when he said, “It doesn’t have to be a watery grave.”
The fight left him.
"I don't have anywhere else to go." Hitoshi said in lieu of agreement, even though they were the same thing.
Celestial eyes flared, lifting nothing but his voice when he called out for someone on the other side of the door.
"Sal!"
Hitoshi was too intune with him to jump, staring into a face that seemed different than he'd initially thought. So much more serious than he'd originally seemed up-close. Still handsome, still boyish, still intense, but also... More. A proud breed.
One of the doors behind them opened.
"Boss?"
Shirakumo didn't so much as look over his shoulder.
"A room, near the bay. Something nice while somebody finds an apartment. Don't make it a shithole."
"On it."
The door closed, and only then did the mountain move, releasing him and leaving Hitoshi to sag against the glass and try, desperately, to catch his breath while it all came flooding in. What just happened. The fear and the nerves and the breakdown and revealing his ability. Not to mention that he fucking kissed Shirakumo Oboro. Kissed him. On the mouth! In a state of panic so severe that he thought the best course of action would be to — apparently?! — grab and LAY ONE ON the man that was now his boss.
A burst of blunt discomfort knocked his panic askew as the man in question thumped his forehead with a thick finger.
"Nope. Nu-uh. None of that. I can already see the wheels turning and my first order as the new head honcho in your life is to calm down and go to bed. Get room service or something. Someone will drive you."
Struck out and caught in a daze, Hitoshi just... Nodded. He nodded and accepted the situation, too wrung out to fight back and start a whole new panic attack.
Maybe after he recharged for a bit.
"Okay. Can do... Sir."
"Mmm, nope, sorry, not that either." The previously serious man shook his head with a laugh, looking sheepish. "Not to keep striking you out but the only ones calling me Sir are the people trying to make my dick hard. Boss is fine."
Hitoshi bluescreened so fast his jaw went slack.
Shirakumo just smiled wider with a playfully open expression and Hitoshi nodded dumbly in understanding.
"Y-yeah. Right. I ummm— G-got it. I got it, Boss." He said, trying again.
"Great, glad we got that out of the way!" He stepped back and clapped, rapidly feeling less like a person and more like a persona. "I've got a tour coming in at ten. Mr. Sikes is a good friend and I've promised him and his group a glimpse of life's most elusive mystery."
It sounded like a suggestion, like an opening for any questions at the end of the tour, but Hitoshi knew a dismissal when he heard one.
The boy swallowed.
"Of course... Boss. Thank you. For... For this opportunity. I'll ummm..."
He struggled to find words, not really sure what he should do, now or later, and the wider Shirakumo's smile got, the more Hitoshi wanted to squirm.
The other seemed to take pity on him eventually and the chuckle that escaped his smiling mouth broke through the unease somehow.
"Someone will get you a phone. Head out and Sal will show you where to go."
Relief crashed through him like a flash flood and Hitoshi could have collapsed with it.
"Understood, thank you, Si— Boss! Thank you, Boss."
He backed up, and bowed slightly, before fleeing the situation. The overwhelmed figure wasn't running, or even power walking, but there was no other way to describe the way Hitoshi left, fleeing from the office. Pausing, only once, to glance back over one shoulder.
The two Mers were both there, just like he thought they'd be, both of them focused entirely on his retreat. Their combined gaze was hypnotic, like a pair of whirlpools trying to drag him down from the surface, where the reef Mer belonged, all the way down to the very bottom, where the deep sea fish hunted. He felt ensnared by them, caught off guard by the way their tails twisted together in a tangled up coil while they stared at him in blatant fascination. It was only the far off squeal of a happy child, somewhere far above, that freed him of their tether.
Hitoshi turned his back to flee once more.