Chapter Text
It was, Aoi decided, a nice day for a walk. Hana was with her grandmother, leaving her and Taro to take advantage of their little free time to spend some time together. Technically they were getting things for the shop but still, she was determined to make the most of it. They were holding hands, just enjoying the silence when, suddenly, Taro tensed and let go of her hand
Startled, Aoi looked up at her husband. A myriad of emotions were crossing his face. Sadness, relief, guilt. His face smoothed out into his normal blank expression just as a voice called out.
“Mr. Sakamoto!”
A teen ran up to them, a wide grin on his face. He looked to be mere inches from grabbing Taro in a hug but stopped himself, hands grabbing at skinny jeans.
“Shin.”
To most her husband’s tone would have sounded bored, uninterested. Aoi, however, could tell that he was genuinely happy to see the teen.
“You’ve gotten fat,” the boy, Shin, laughed. Aoi couldn’t help but wonder how old he was. How he knew her husband.
“Oh, this?” Shin tapped a nasty bruise on his forehead. “I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sure you remember how it is.”
Oh this boy better not be implying what she thought he was. Aoi decided to speak up. “Are you a friend of Taro’s? Would you-“
Shin jerked, his smile fading once he caught sight of her. He took a step back, tugging his jacket closer to him. “I- I should go. Sorry to bother you. It was good to see you, Mr. Sakamoto.”
Taro opened his mouth but before he could say anything Shin had backed away, disappearing into the crowd. Her husband looked crushed as the teen vanished from sight, his shoulders slumping.
“Taro, who was that boy?”
“Shin,” Taro was probably following the boy with his eyes, judging by the fact that he wasn’t turning to face her. “He, uh, used to follow me around before I retired. I was, uh, training him.”
Aoi felt her eyebrow twitch. So Shin had been implying what she thought. “How old is he?”
“He should be seventeen by now,” Taro winced, evidently picking up on her ire. “He was fifteen when I left.”
“Taro!” Aoi glared at her husband, hands on her hips. “You don’t leave fifteen year olds to be assassins! You bring them home to me so I can feed them! Now go invite him to dinner, I can tell you’re worried about him.”
Taro nodded, frowning a little. “He shouldn’t have that bruise,” he muttered. “Shin is an esper, he should be able to tell what his opponent is going to do. Fighting isn’t something he has to do a lot and certainly not hand to hand.”
Esper? Aoi decided to ignore that and simply focus on what was more important. “What’s his favorite food?”
Taro had the grace to look sheepish as he said, “I usually fed him microwave mac n cheese.”
Aoi’s eyes narrowed. “We’re going to talk when you get home later. Now, go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Taro pressed a quick kiss to her lips then left, moving quickly for someone of his size.
Now, what to feed a teenager that lived off microwave meals?
It wasn’t hard to follow Shin, the teen hadn’t made much progress while Taro was talking to Aoi. He seemed to be dragging his feet, obviously reluctant to get to where he was going. Something was wrong here. For starters, Shin didn’t usually dress like that. At some point he had taken off his jacket, revealing a too tight tank top and the skinny jeans had Taro’s hackles rising. What happened to the baggy hoodie and pants the kid usually wore?
Hand-shaped bruises on his forearms had Taro wanting to stop him and demand an explanation. How the hell had someone managed to get close enough to leave those kinds of marks? Shin read minds for crying out loud. The placement was odd too, as if someone had been holding him down. Which was hard to do, anytime Taro had done that on accident during training the boy would just freak out and turn into a feral beast that left him nursing a sore jaw more than once.
Shin was going even slower now. Up ahead, Taro could see a man looking in Shin’s direction. Taro’s eyes narrowed. The man was- not exactly smiling, it looked a bit more unwelcoming. Shin tensed but dutifully waved, one hand gripping his pants leg briefly. Shin only did that when he was upset or nervous, scared. Had actually been doing that when Taro gave his goodbye two years ago.
Taro pushed away the guilt and focused on the situation. The two had met now, the man resting a hand on Shin’s shoulder. The boy was stiff as a board, minute shivers racking his slight frame. The man learned forward, whispering something in his ear.
Oh. Oh fuck no. Absolutely fucking not. There was no question in Taro’s mind what was happening. He had never moved so fast in his life, grabbing the man’s wrist and feeling satisfied as something snapped. The man screamed but, considering the part of town they were, no one paid any mind.
“Mr. Sakamoto!” Shin gasped, stumbling backwards. He was pale now, eyes wide as he started trying to adjust his clothing.
“We’re leaving,” Taro announced.
“I-“ Shin eyed the man on the ground, a hand creeping towards his pocket, the one he kept a knife in.
“No,” Taro said firmly. “You’re not killing him.”
“I have to,” Shin argued. “I’ll get in trouble if I don’t.”
Taro pinched the bridge of his nose then stepped forward so that he was looming over the boy. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. We are leaving. Now.”
Shin shrunk back then slowly nodded. “Yes, sir.” He put his jacket back on, seeming to relax a little with another layer of clothing on.
Taro carefully hooked a hand under his shoulder and started walking. Time to head to Granny Miya’s.