Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
( July 22, 2016 - 8:30 pm)
Tanizaki felt like death. He’d been working nonstop, filing and filling out a stack of papers, never seeming to shrink, so blaringly white that the words started losing their meaning and turning into formless symbols. He was already tired, as Naomi and he had stayed up until the blue hours of the dawn watching reruns of her favorite show, The Bachelor. Tanizaki didn’t see the appeal, but he couldn’t resist Naomi’s face when she begged, and it’s not like he had an actual reason not to. He took a pause from filling out papers that bleed together and looked identical after a while. The dwindling sunlight tried in vain to brighten the room, failing as it slipped beneath the horizon and out of sight. The meagre lamps cast more shadows than they illuminated, and Tanizaki was contemplating just turning them off and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. It had been an unbearably long day
Ranpo’s incessant crunching was driving him mad, slowly but surely. The brown of his Party City detective Halloween costume turned a powdery brownish yellow with a thin coating of cheeto dust. His shoes, clearly visible from the desk on which he had perched them, had gum on the soles and dirt stuck in the tread. It was only vaguely disgusting, but still.
Stop. I should tell him to- no, I can’t. That would be too rude. I’ll just whisper. He won’t hear.
“Could you stop?” Tanizaki grumbled into his paperwork, putting his thoughts to sound.
“Huh?” Ranpo’s head shot up from his paperwork like a dog called in for dinner.
Oh goodness, he heard.
“Nothing. I. . . I didn’t say anything?” Nice going, idiot . His stomach growled.
Ranpo’s face pinched, but he dropped it. “You should go home.” Tanizaki ignored him. He had papers to finish.
Tanizaki took a sip from an old Gatorade bottle he saved for regular water. The orange cap’s thread was wearing so flat that soon it wouldn't be able to seal shut. The cushion of his chair was worn down so much that the screws were stabbing him in the legs. The threadbare fabric itched his thighs through his similarly worn pants. He meant to get a new pair, but his paycheck this week went to groceries and a pack of juice boxes, since it was Tanizaki’s birthday in two days. He was so hungry. He could definitely ask Kunikida or someone for money, but the agency was already paying for his puberty blockers (imported in secret from Canada, trans legislation here was killer). The ADA would pay for both the reassignment surgeries when he was old enough, too. He didn’t want to leech off them more than he already was. It wasn’t so bad, he couldn’t even see his ribs. Yet.
His eyes dropped as his head sank down to lay his cheek on his desk. As the sun slipped and the room darkened, Tanizaki fell into a well deserved sleep.
***
( July 22, 2016 - 12:05 pm)
When Tanizaki finally woke up, his spine cracked in three places and his legs were both asleep. Ranpo was gone, the remnants of his insatiable snacking littering the floor around his desk. The lights were off, and the old bulbs were completely dark, so they’d been off for at least an hour. The room smelled faintly of instant noodles, to which Tanizaki started salivating an embarrassing amount. He swallowed, then found the source of the smell, sitting plain on the desk opposite Tanizaki’s, chopsticks laying flat across the top. He tried to rise, but his legs collapsed before he could straighten them. He tried again, vaulting himself towards the noodles, succeeding this time. There was a note on the desk next to the cup. The sprawling script was barely legible, but the best he could figure is that it read-
Eat this or I’ll beat you up :)
~Ranpo
Ah, so that’s who it was from. He must’ve heard Tanizaki’s stomach growl earlier. Tanizaki flushed down to his shoulders. If Ranpo wanted to keep feeding him in secret like some stray cat some little kid found, that was fine. It’s only when the parents got involved that the two would have a problem. Because then he would just be tapering off their money for himself, and that would be not only unnecessary but incredibly embarrassing.
But no one knew yet. Tanizaki’s money problems were just his, not even Naomi knew the extent of it. The pains of bringing change to the grocery store, the black coffee he ordered from Uzumaki to save face in front of his friends, the skipped lunches. His hair was graying and falling out, the stress of providing for himself and Naomi showing its physical side effects. It sucked, there was no way around that description. Kenji joked sometimes that he must have ten of his favorite sweater, but it’s just that he doesn’t have many other clothes.
And this one is getting to be more moth balls than fabric, now. They’ll start to notice soon.
He nearly choked on the noodles as he shoved them desperately into his mouth. It was the first meal he’d had all day, if he didn’t count the other half of a plain bagel he had leftover from yesterday’s dinner. He finished the cup fast, then scraped out the seasonings left on the sides and licked the chopsticks clean. A glance to the clock read it was nearly midnight. Naomi was probably home, worrying about him over the TV, or maybe she’d given up waiting for him and had finally gone to sleep.
Either way, he should be going home. He’d have to walk, though, since the trains had just stopped. The walk back to his house was roughly thirty minutes, twenty if he was quick about it. Tanizaki slugged over to the elevator, pressing the ‘G’ button with a scuffed knuckle then pressing his forehead to a wall panel.
He could honestly just fall asleep in the elevator. But then Naomi would be stuck worrying, and the rest of the ADA would be asking questions, and no one wants that, really. He didn’t want to be a burden, not more than he already was.
The elevator dinged! upon arrival to the ground floor, the doors creaking as they opened. The smell of coffee was mostly gone now, the cafè smelling faintly of gasoline and the evening air of Yokohama. The lights in the building were off, the only light creeping in from a streetlamp outside. A light breeze fluted through the building, lifting his hair from his shoulders. The shadows cast were soft, only slightly darker than the building itself.
Tanizaki’s stomach clenched and dropped, a wave of dread flushing his face. His muscles tightened, his hands grasping for his pocket knife. He grasped it, clicking it open and brandishing it in front of his leg. The door to the ADA was open, that was the source of the breeze. Ranpo may be an idiot sometimes, but you don’t need to be a master detective to know to lock the door when someone is sleeping inside.
Nothing else seemed out of place, not the alcohol nor the register, the usual dust of which seemed undisturbed. The pristine state of the cafè only served to freak him out even more. A coffee cup, on a table near the door, tipped over as the breeze picked up, the porcelain shattering on contact with the floor. Tanizaki immediately fell into a crouch in preparation to do a fair bit of running. His eyes narrowed as he scanned everything, anything that could give him a clue about how the door was opened. He walked, still crouched, to the door, looking at the busted handle. It had clearly been smashed with something, a hammer, maybe? Some kind of tool. But the register was untouched, as was the liquor on the shelves. Whoever broke in didn’t do it to steal. But then what did they break in for? And who was it?
A footstep, a creak just behind him, and Tanizaki abandons stealth to get outside, onto the street, into an area with even the possibility of witnesses. But there was no one out at this time of night, for good reason. Kunikida always warned him this was the time people got kidnapped. Tanizaki always figured he’d been joking. He figured he’d been talking as though he should be on the wach for other people getting kidnapped, not him.
A blue jay’s screech sounded somewhere from a tree on the sidewalk as footsteps came running up behind him. Tanizaki, turning in a blind panic, forgetting any and all combat training he had received in favor of looking his assailant in the eyes. He distantly realized he had dropped his knife but the terror was consuming his ability to think rationally.
Which, as it turned out, he didn’t get the chance to do, since as soon as he turned, a crash and sudden blooming, blinding pain, and he was out.
***
(???)
Tanizaki woke in a daze, his arms in chains high above his head, feet barely on the floor. A heavy collar hung tight on his throat, restricting his already shaking breathing. He was in the middle of a barren locker type room, like a butcher’s shop. Dull electric lights hung snug in the ceiling, flickering at random intervals and painting the gray floor in a sickly dull yellow. It felt like he was hanging in his closet in the humid heat of august--- he could feel sweat dripping down his skin, on the floor, into his eyes. The air in the room seemed to be adamant on not being inhaled, with every breath seeming to be taking in less and less oxygen. His sweater and pants were gone, he was barefoot, any trace of his old outfit was gone, except his binder and underwear. His toes burned as they held him up on a floor of hot metal. There wasn’t even the comfort of his pins, or his earrings. His hair stuck to his neck and forehead, a combination of grease and sweat, most likely. He reeked, no dancing around it. Who knows how long it’s been since he bathed? His stomach cramped, but he skillfully ignored it. His wrists burned, his fingers were numb and his palms tingled.
Oh, God. This is way worse than anything Dazai’s fantasized about.
He jerked his head up with a concerning amount of effort to find that, not only were the handcuffs horrifically rusted, but his wrists were crusted over with blood where the jagged metal had dug into his skin. He jostled them, yelping embarrassingly loud in pain when they ripped up the already raw skin.
He grimaced as a door opened somewhere in the room, letting his neck go slack and releasing the tension he’d formed in his shoulders. He sank onto his heels again, the rust of the cuffs digging into his skin, blood weeping from wounds that were sure to get infected at this rate.
Footsteps, clacking harsh on the metal floor, approached and stopped in front of Tanizaki. There was a slight hum of disapproval, then the person started speaking.
“I thought you’d put up more of a fight, honestly.” The voice is clear, deep, and totally unfamiliar. Tanizaki’s alright at remembering voices, and he’s never even heard this one in a fight or something. He fought down a bristle at the jab, though, remaining still and trying to stay his breathing like Kunikida taught him.
The person in front of him shoots out for Tanizaki’s chin and grabs it with a chapped hand. Lifting his head and puppeting it, checking out all sides of his face and checking his teeth before dropping his head again. Tanizaki lets it bounce on his chest before letting it lay still.
“I expected more fight from someone Shiggs spoke so highly of. But you? You’re nothing. Nothing . I could kill you right now and no one would ever find out,” Tanizaki’s breathing hitched. The man paused, before continuing, “I know you have good friends. I’ve been watching you a while now. I know all about you and your useless little quirk. I know people with powers just like yours who can use it in ways you’ve never even daydreamed of. And that sister of yours?” Tanizaki damn near growled at that, but tried to keep himself calm. “She’s so pretty, she doesn’t seem the type to-”
I’ll kill him. I’ll skin him, none of his fucked up flesh will be attached to his body.
The man’s skin really was weird. Sickening, almost. There were two colors, each stapled together where they met, the dark purple looking like the dried skin of a fruit. He tried to ignore it. Looking at him too long might make his ever present nausea become overwhelming.
“ That’s enough .” Tanizaki looked the man straight in the eyes, staring through a murderous haze. “Hurting my sister will be the last thing you do, aside from begging me for mercy.” His breathing hitched in a rage induced panic.
The man, standing slouched and blue eyes gleaming, looked unimpressed. He rolled back on his heels, doused in infuriating nonchalance. “You think I haven’t heard this whole shtick before? God, I press at the ladies and the boys crumble .”
“If you touch my sister I’ll chop off your hands.”
The man chuckled, not fazed by Tanizaki’s threats. “Listen, kiddo. I am not scared of you. You can not hurt me the way you are,” He slowed down his speech, talking to Tanizaki like he was an idiot, “ I. Am. Not. Scared. Of. You. I don’t know how many times I’ll need to say it for you to understand it.” He patted Tanizaki on the cheek as he turned to leave.
Don’t touch me.
Tanizaki jolted in his chains in response, his wrists bleeding, hot blood gushing down his arms. The man turned again before saying, “I will leave you in this locker for as long as it takes for you to stop being a baby about everything. Okay?”
Tanizaki just glared at the ground as he sauntered out.
***
(???)
It had been two days, at least, since the blue eyed creep had paid a visit. The air still felt unbearably thin, and he suspected it was getting hotter. His chains were starting to wear his skin raw before it healed, leaving his forearms and collarbones covered in a worryingly constant stream of thick blood. His few breaths were shaky and far too light for his blood to be getting enough oxygen intake. Each inhale burned his parched throat--- he hadn’t had water since his sip at the ADA building. Tanizaki hadn’t been fed once, and his stomach cramped worse than he’d ever felt. His stomach acid must be moving on to the rest of his intestines since it can’t get any real food.
All his energy was seeping down to his feet and out onto the floor, his exhaustion making it harder to take deep breaths. His hair still stuck to his face, but he had stopped sweating--- he knew that was bad, but was too tired to think about it. He couldn’t even lift up his head to look at his puffed-up-now-definitely-infected wrists.
The door creaked, and footsteps approached. Tanizaki didn’t bother pretending to be unconscious this time. If he tried to steady his breathing, Tanizaki feared he would just stop.
Someone was standing directly behind him, completely still and sighing. They pressed a bag of something freezing cold to the small of his back, quick and harsh, holding it on his bare skin. He arched his back away from the sudden influx of temperature, but it remained pressed on him.
The voice giggled. “Your blood’s no good to me if you’re dead!” A young girl, from the sounds of it. One with issues, too. “We’ve gotta keep you alive, and,” she brought her face up to his ear, tone darkening to one of a budding psychosis, “I’ll do it all by myself if I have too.”
What was he supposed to say to that, exactly? He was torn from his thoughts as she moved the ice to the nape of his neck, and she kept talking to him, “You’re not as fierce as everyone expected you to be, honestly. Do you want some water, puppy?”
Tanizaki lifted his head up at that. The girl danced to be in front of him, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. His breathing quickened at the prospect of any water. He nodded, still plagued with exhaustion but dying of dehydration.
She tutted, rocking back on her heels. “Sorry, puppy, you’ll have to speak for this!”
Tanizaki frowned at the pet name, brows furrowed in confusion. He stuttered, voice cracking, “W-what?”
He had hardly finished the word when a knife sliced across his cheek, not quite deep enough to reveal the inside of his mouth. More blood ran down his face, painting his skin red. The sting came a second after, burning pain spreading across his head and shoulders as he panted, eyes widening in shock. He gasped a light exhale. The cold metal of the blade slid into place right below his chin, slicing his epidermis and revealing yet even more blood.
She removed the bag of ice, now revealed to be already half melted, and gave him the disappointed gaze of a middle school teacher. “ Puppy , you know that’s not what I meant,”
Realization, then blooming humiliation burst in his chest as he realized she wanted him to bark. His face flushed the same red as the blood on his cheek as the blonde girl grinned. “See? You get it now! So speak, puppy!”
He never imagined he’d have to bark for a teenager with. . . some form of mental illness, but Dazai had told him dehydration was one of the more unpleasant ways to die, and Tanizaki wasn’t privy to find out for himself. The girl’s manic grin only widened as she could tell her prey’s resolve was weakening. He panted, every move of his mouth sending sparks of pain through his whole head. Her skirt swished back and forth as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hair swaying with the movement.
His eyes burned, every breath bringing sharp pains in his throat. But there was no way. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, to reduce himself to a dog for this girl. The fire of humanity still burned in his chest, and he wasn’t going to extinguish it yet. His face burned where his cheek still wept blood, but he would risk taking antibiotics for a few weeks before he stooped so low. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the blonde girl’s expression remaining completely still, frozen in her grin. Her smile had a few too many teeth, her lips spread too far, her eyes glistening even in the weak light.
Her expression darkened the more the two stared at each other. Her eyes widened to a maddening degree before she sunk her knife into Tanizaki’s shoulder without warning, leaving the blade in hilt deep. Tanizaki screamed , thrashed in his bonds, but the girl was already gone.