Chapter Text
Repeatedly seeing someone who happens to work in the same building as you is considered to be normal, right?
It just so happened that you were observant — sometimes too observant. Because each lunch break you'd spend in the modest break room of the building, he was always found there, next to an open window, with a cigarette in his hand.
Each morning you'd walk to your small office, you'd pass by him, whether it was in the hallways or a shared elevator ride from time to time.
But then again, you didn't even know his name. You've never actually interacted with him to begin with, which wasn't that strange anyhow. You never really conversed with most of the people you worked with, except for the ones you clearly had to.
Miss Makima was one of those few people you talked to. You did nothing more than do some paperwork for her, help plan appointments, and sometimes bring her coffee from the café just two minutes away from the HQ building, but that didn't save you from occasional small talk.
That didn't matter that much anyway. You were satisfied with the benefits that came along and were nothing else but grateful for having the luck to find this workplace. You were just fresh out of college with a degree that didn't seem to appeal to most employers, as you'd gotten rejected multiple times after getting your hopes up each time.
And then there was her, who seemed fairly pleased with your skills, education and experience, and hired you right after the interview. Now here you were, typing stuff into the computer, procuring coffee for your boss, and sorting through endless piles of folders for a living. It wasn't what you'd dreamed of, nor what you'd wanted at all.
But it promised safety. It promised a quiet, slow life.
You wouldn't have it any other way.
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Every morning would get more boring than the last. It included that same routine that you were already pretty much used to since you'd gotten employed. Wake up, eat, work, repeat.
Tokyo wasn't really your kind of city. It was insanely large, full of busy cities and overpopulated. And even in a huge city with so many things to do, you still found yourself stuck in that same routine. But then again, you'd got accustomed to it over the years and started to find comfort in it.
— cherry-coloured funk by cocteau twins plays
Within your humdrum, monotonous days, you somehow found some sort of ambition to get up each morning, eyes half closed, while the motions of your hand would lazily maneuver the toothbrush over your teeth. Sometimes you'd even reflect upon the previous night's dreams, details of which were slowly slipping from your mind with each passing minute.
When you had just woken up, you could remember all of it so vividly. The streets of Tokyo, boiling eggs in a kitchen that looked way too different from your own, but contained details of the one from your childhood home. You remembered taking the train and whatever had gone on there, outside the windows the landscape of a place you didn't recognize — and probably wasn't even real — was passing quickly before your eyes.
But you remembered seeing that one guy from work. Raven hair tied up in a stiff top-knot, a hint of bags under his serious eyes and a stark intimidating aspect to him, one that was easy to find in any Devil Hunter you'd come across. This time he just seemed lost in thought, staring into the floor of the moving train as he sat across from you.
Later on, you could effortlessly recall the way his hand reached out and gave you a lighter and how you took it from him. It was the exact lighter you recognized as the one you'd recently lost. You noticed it because of the small design you'd drawn on it with a fine-tipped marker out of boredom — a sun with wiggling lines emerging from it, which were supposed to be the rays.
You wondered if the dream actually had a definite meaning.
But as you spit the toothpaste out, you convinced yourself to ward the memoir off for the time being while you tried focusing on getting ready for yet another day of work.
That proved harder than you initially thought, as you managed to spill tea on your freshly washed and ironed shirt, achieving a stain on the lower part of it. You knew you had to hide it somehow, not having any other clean shirts to replace it with.
With an exasperated sigh you just threw the jacket of your suit on before heading towards the door.
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Thankfully, the jacket was enough to conceal the stain on your shirt.
With the weight of paperwork and binders mountained upon your arms, you make your way back towards your bureau after a painfully slow hour spent making copies of different reports, only to be burdened with even more work – sorting them in the appropriate sections. The load was hopefully going to stay in place by taking support against your chest, yet the suspicion of it likely falling soon caused your steps to get quicker down along the hallway of the sixth floor.
Your eyes were watching the stack you carried as you told yourself internally you would surely make it.
That until you stumbled into someone, of course — a stiff arm your shoulder had hit causing you to drop your pile. A small utterance came out of your mouth, quiet enough that you didn't think the person who'd bumped into you even heard, if they were still there to begin with.
“Shit–”
The next second you were kneeling down to pick everything up, knowing well enough you didn't have any time to waste before you'd have to tend to your duties and tasks awaiting you back in that airless room. This was definitely what you didn't need — a moment of humiliating clumsiness.
What had surprised you, though, was a person crouching down across from you. You found that sudden act unexpected because each one of the few people you've had the disadvantage to bump into were too self centered to pay you any mind, let alone even mumble a halfhearted apology. Obviously, it didn't take you long to realize it was the same person you'd stumbled into who now helped you gather your things.
You raised your gaze for just a moment while you were stacking the binders once more, only to be met with that recognizable expression once more. One that was still wore focused its eyes down, at the current object of its attention and had pitch-black hair tied into that top knot. An expression that was, with no doubt, weary.
His voice came low when he spoke to you, without making any eye contact.
“Sorry.”
The interaction lasted sheer moments where his hands were agile and helpful enough to get the previously discarded paperwork back into a neat pile that he laid onto the binders and other folders you grasped, a moment in which the man's eyes briefly met yours, before he was continuing his way deeper into the hallway.
Maybe not all devil hunters were such assholes.
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Finding difficulties during paperwork wasn't at all unusual.
What was truly unusual was you actually asking for help on it. You couldn't deny you've always had a sense of independence you just couldn't get rid of. Or it was just a simple fear of being seen differently, if by any means, your question was dumber than you'd expected.
However, you had an excuse. Needing Miss Makima's signature on the contracts of some rookies signing up for the Devil Hunters working under Public Safety. This time, just this time, you felt relieved as you could hide behind this reason while also seeking the answers you were in need of.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Only then did you raise your knuckles to knock at the door of her office.
She was a remarkably intimidating person that you still couldn't believe that you got along so well with. In spite of that, she never failed to paralyze you with just a look, making you suck in nervous breaths. You hated to admit this about your boss – but she was creeping the absolute shit out of you.
Once you heard the confirmatory ‘come in’ from the other side of the door, you dared to open it.
“Good evening, Miss Makima,” you said, “I just‐”
You paused with the very first step on the wood flooring of her office, as you noticed the man standing a couple of good steps in front of her desk.
The moment you caught sight of his face turning back to take notice of your presence, you wondered if this person was just everywhere. If that face would haunt you and track each of your steps. If that pitch-black hair and straight, angled nose would stick with you from now on.
Without a doubt, there was Mr. No-Name again, showing up more than just in your dreams, as if he purposefully desired to remind you of the image he held in your mind last night.
Your eyes went back to Makima who watched you just as intently, to which you apologized, almost out of instinct.
“I'm sorry for the disturbance, I can come back later if–”
But your voice was halted once again, by Makima this time, who began talking in that weirdly calm and composed tone.
“Stay,” she told you. “I was just having a small chat with Aki here. I'm sure he wouldn't mind your presence.”
You witnessed her glance at the young man in front of her with an almost unnoticeable raise of her eyebrows, as though she silently wanted to confirm her words and make sure nothing was any other way than she'd intended it to be. To that, you saw him shortly shake his head, expression once more forward.
After observing the brief exchange of peeks between the two of them, you finally dared to fully step in, closed the door behind you, and walked up to Makima's desk.
“I um–”
You cleared your voice quickly before continuing.
“I needed your signature on some confirmation contracts for the newcomers,”
Your voice stayed low, although you knew the subject was no confidential or secret one. It was just your way of showing your politeness. Laying the well-arranged stack of papers on her desk, your pointer indicated the slim line towards the bottom of the sheet, where she gave an affirmative hum while she took ahold of her pen.
“I was discussing that just now,”
You heard her say, her tone unchanging. She stopped shortly to look up at you before turning to the next page that needed to be signed.
“Aki Hayakawa here will be guiding most of the newbies into our new experimental division,” she disclosed. “Special Division 4.”
At that, both of you gazed at Aki. While Makima's was only a fleeting look as she turned her attention back to the task you brought her, yours lasted a few seconds longer.
Your glance was surprisingly reciprocated that lasted plenty of seconds while you'd expected him to tear his eyes away eventually. Still, he didn't. He studied you attentively with furrowed eyebrows. Strangely enough, you were the one to put the visual contact to an end, concentrating more on the paperwork this time.
Despite Makima's rapid hands, she was far from done, it seemed. She paid close attention to what she was signing although you could tell she was doing it efficiently. When you noticed her attempting to note her signature further, her pen seemed to run out of ink, only the first twist of the writing being clear in a rich blue hue, while the rest became practically invisible, an effort in vain.
Because of that, you immediately reached for your own pen which you wore in your pocket. It wasn't really the safest way to carry a fountain pen which could lose its cap and whose tip could stain your pants with ink at any moment, but it promised quick accessibility, by any means.
“Thank you,” she responded, before returning to her task.
Behind the two of you, the sun and all that was left of it shone from behind the clouds and through the windows, nearing its set. Your shift was about to end shortly, yet you knew you'd have to stay overtime again, still set on completing your tasks of the day.
Soon enough, she was lining the papers and pushing them aside for you to take, which you did, thanking her briefly for the help before aiming for the door and leaving. It was only when you returned to your office that you realized you hadn't asked what you'd intended and still ended up with no answer obtained.
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Aki
“I think that might be it. You may go now,” Makima concluded with a final sigh. “If I get any more news I'll let you know. Thank you for coming.”
Aki nodded shortly, his hand holding his other behind his back.
The sun had almost fully set, painting the sky in different shades of soft orange that faded into a light pink which would only blend in further with the familiar blue. The clouds were drifting lazily across it, guided by the delicate autumnal breeze.
“No need for thanks, Miss Makima,” he replied respectfully. “Have a good evening.”
As he turned on the heel of his shoe towards the door, her voice was heard once more.
“Oh, and one more thing if I may,” she began. “Could you do me a favour, if I'm not asking too much?”
Aki twisted back, facing her, to which she went ahead and started talking.
“Mind giving Y/N this pen for me?” she asked. “You can find her office on the fifth floor. Last door on the right.”
At first he didn't know to whom the name was connected to. It didn't take long for him to connect the dots, though.
Her slender fingers took the fountain pen she'd used earlier, the one you'd pulled out and forgot to take back. It held a dark yet beautiful shade of red, the centerband and clip on the cap being a shiny silver.
Makima offered it to him. He analyzed it briefly before stepping forward and taking it from her. Despite its elegance, it was particularly light. He held it gently in his hand as he peered back at her, as he gave his response.
“...Sure.”
He saw her give him a small grin. A small, yet knowing grin, a look in her eyes that he couldn't gauge the connotation of. He hadn't seen it many times. If he actually attempted contemplating, he couldn't even remember.
“Thank you,” she told him. “Y/N might be a little clumsy sometimes, but she's hardworking. She'll surely appreciate it.”
Aki could easily confirm your clumsiness from the interaction earlier that day. In spite of that, he didn't blame you for the accident. Both of you were in a rush and he should have been more aware of your presence.
Besides, he couldn't help but also confirm that you were equally dedicated to your work. He'd seen you plenty of times already — in the copy room, a few times striding through the hallways carrying all sorts of folders and papers on your arms, once he'd even seen you transporting a box down the stairs.
He could tell you were just as committed to your job as he was about his.
Rarely did he notice you talking, though. Each time he'd encountered you, you were alone. Down the halls, smoking outside at lunch… You never talked to anyone and no one talked to you either. It was only today that he'd heard your voice. Thinking back on it, he considered it fitting to your character, as he made his way down one of the longest hallways of the work building.
One of the neon lights in the ceiling flickered while he neared the very last door on the hallway. He peeked down at his right wrist, checking the time. Only a little past six. He wondered if you would still be in there, wondered if the door would be locked even one hour after what he guessed your program was like.
Subsequently, he knocked on the door of your bureau.
He waited one second, which swiftly turned into two, then three, and instantly four… He slowly raised his knuckles once more.
“Come in!”
Upon hearing your voice from inside the room, Aki finally twisted the doorknob and stepped inside. He was met with a surprisingly small office. It must have been twice as small as Makima's. It was probably due to the walls being covered in shelves from one corner to the other corners except for the one opposite from him and the one with the door he just came through.
Meanwhile, he'd found you climbed onto a stool, having stored a couple files on a higher shelf. The moment you'd seen him, though, he watched you step off it and straighten your tie, clearly wanting to make yourself look more presentable in the face of an unannounced visitor.
“I’m sorry to bother you,”
He said, as he raised his fist quickly to his mouth and cleared his voice shortly.
To his apology you quickly intervened and waved your hand as if to brush off any worry of his, even though you could tell it was just mere politeness and nothing more.
“No problem–” you chimed in. “How can I help you?”
Aki entered your bureau fully this time, yet the wooden door was still sitting cracked open.
“You forgot your pen in Miss Makima's office earlier,”
When his hand held your pen out for you to take into your own, he saw your face instantly lighten up with such a sincere smile that he could bet he had never seen in the time he had worked for Public Safety.
He'd seen frowns, scowls and pissed off glares, but this one expression was new.
It felt like a bath of fresh air washing over him, or maybe it was just the draft caused by your open window at the back of the room and the door that sat ajar that he was confusing it with.
“Jesus, I was just looking for this… Thanks a lot, um–”
Moments passed, as you just stared back at him rather confused, almost as if thinking, to which he just went ahead and introduced himself. It wasn't hard to deduce what you meant.
“Hayakawa,”
Half a second later, he changed his mind and decided on his first name.
“...Aki. Just Aki.”
Your smile kept its place on your face, though.
“Well, thank you, Aki,” you said. “I'm Y/N,”
A moment of awkward silence passed between the two of you where Aki nodded in acknowledgement before he saw you hold your hand out for him to shake. Your best attempt at a polite gesture, it seemed. He took your hand and gave you a firm handshake, left a bit surprised by the equally firm shake your scrawny fingers gave his own.
Once you had let go of each other's hands, you spoke up again.
“Is there anything else I can actually help you with, though?”
Aki shook his head.
“No, it was just this,” he answered bluntly.
“Alright,” you voiced. “Then, have a good evening.”
With that, he saw you give him a nod. He did the same, taking one last look inside the room, at the full shelves, at you as you approached your desk crowded with all different kinds of files, before he disappeared, closing the door after himself.