Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Doppo didn’t know why he was here. The trendy bar was crowded, the drinks were overpriced, and he had been abandoned within ten minutes of arriving. As always. 

It was a coworker’s birthday-- that’s probably why he’d tagged along, pressured and goaded into giving up his restful Saturday night; and into buying drinks, much to his wallet’s chagrin. This little birthday nomikai had been his baldy boss’s idea, to take cute young Ms. Takamura to celebrate at some ritzy place. His boss sat drinking and chatting up his underlings, cheeks flushed and head shining with sweat under the warm bar lights. Doppo found his lips curling into even a deeper frown. With how the old baldy was getting the uncomfortable office girls to laugh (sexual harassment aside), he should have at least had the courtesy to pony up. But no, Doppo had been asked to take one for the team, as he was always asked, and he took the economic hit. He rolled over and took it, no matter how little he could afford it. 

He sighed, staring deeply into the expensive cocktail he didn’t even want. The scent of alcohol was sharp and ascerbic, burning his nose just by being near. His stomach turned at the thought of drinking it, and of the inevitable hangover it would bring. It churned more at the thought of not getting his two-thousand yen’s worth of expensive vodka and... whatever else. 

It was times like this that Doppo really missed Hifumi. Sure, his best friend was annoying, and he definitely would be piling on the bar tab with all of his cute little champagne cocktails... but he could at least socially buffer, and open up that thick host wallet to help pay. Though he would see Hifumi in the morning, the backup would have been appreciated. Hifumi was probably surrounded by his kittens though, having all his drinks comped. Doppo was almost jealous-- then remembered how much Hifumi internally hated both the fawning and the amount he had to drink. He took this knowledge as distant solidarity, hoping Hifumi’s night was as awful as his was. 

Immediately after he finished that thought, Doppo slumped against the bar, head pillowed in his arms. How could he think that? Why would he ever wish Hifumi a bad night, knowing the host would make him breakfast in the morning, exhaustion be damned. Or how could he fantasize about leeching off of Hifumi’s hard-earned money just so he didn’t have to pay. Or how could he wish for Hifumi to work even more by entertaining his coworkers. 

He was lower than low. The scum of the earth. What kind of friend was he, wanting to take advantage of Hifumi’s generous heart? If he worked harder, maybe he would make enough to treat his coworkers, and be a good senpai. Maybe if he wasn’t so pathetic, he could have refused his boss’s unreasonable demands, for once. Maybe... maybe... 

These thoughts spiraled as his hand grabbed for his drink, tipping it back in one violent motion. It burned on the way down, his entire body shivering from the sudden sensation, settling warm in his gut. As predicted did make his stomach lurch in protest, but it stoked something too. Something angry. 

He glared venom at the empty glass, teeth gritting. “Damn, bald-headed bastard.” His white-knuckled grip on the glass tightened. “I’ll kill him. I’ll... this was all him, and I’m doing all the work. I-- I just wanted to go home, and here I am. I’ll...” His grumbles continued, muttered like a litany to an evil god. “I’ll tear off the rest of his hair. Putting all that work on me, making me pay, I work and work and do all his work. I’ll...” 

An interrupting clunk of glass on wood startled him out of his spiraling rage. He’d almost thought he’d slammed his own drink onto the bar, but instead, he found that a new drink had been put in front of him. Tall, thin, cylindrical-- and filled with the pinkest liquid he’d ever seen. It was effervescent, shiny little bubbles collecting on cherries settled on the bottom. He definitely had not ordered it. This was something he would see in Hifumi’s hand, not his, and if his own drink had been expensive, he couldn’t imagine the price on this one. 

“I-I--” He stammered, looking up to see the bartender smiling kindly at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t order this!” His hands released their vice grip on his previous drink to flail in awkward denial. The frantic motion sent his head spinning. Or was that the vodka? He couldn’t be sure. 

The bartender, to his credit, was patient with his customer. “Oh, I know. It’s courtesy of the gentleman over there.” He gestured down the bar with a gloved hand, and over to a booth with high plush backing. Seated in it, dwarfed by its size was someone very pink, waving cheerfully. 

Doppo narrowed his eyes in focus, jolting backward as he saw some of the details of who exactly the pink blur was-- as if there was anyone else if could be. He continued flailing. “I can’t accept this!” Ramuda Amemura-- he was basically the enemy of his team, and of his team leader, Dr. Jinguji. It was wrong, somehow, to accept a drink from someone like this. Was this fraternizing with the enemy? The doctor would be ashamed of his lack of caution, he warned against Ramuda’s false friendly demeanor, and now he’d gotten a drink from him. If he accepted it, then-- Regardless of who gave it to him, the drink looked like it would make his teeth fall out anyway. There was no way he could drink it. The bartender shrugged. 

“Take it up with him. He paid for it.” 

Doppo sat there, watching the bartender go back to his business. Realizing he wasn’t going to come back and take the drink away, Doppo instead stared at at the glass, focusing on how the bubbles floated. From his knowledge of the Fling Posse leader, there were three options: It was either poisoned, drugged, or nasty. Whichever it was, it was going to be trouble-- yet upon reflection, none of these options could make his night worse. Doppo sighed, heavier this time, and looked back to Ramuda, who sat looking somewhat expectant. 

Again, it couldn’t get worse, and anything was better than sitting alone. Besides, his manners wouldn't allow him to do anything but follow Ramuda’s beaconing wave, like some sort of demented maneki-neko . He picked up his drink and walked with purpose to the booth. To his surprise, he found it was empty, outside Ramuda. 

“Amemura--” He started, fully intending on insisting the other drink it, or at least demanding his reasoning. He was quickly cut off.

“Yahoo~ Welcome, Mr. Salary Man! Like your drink?” Doppo stared, dumbfounded. His brow furrowed, face flushing in embarrassment as Ramuda’s lips curled up into a cat-like smile. 

“I... no. That’s not... your kindness is really appreciated, but I can’t--” He was cut off again.

“Boooo. Yes, you can! You looked so sad and mopey all alone by yourself! So I thought I’d be suuuuuper nice and get you another drink! Drinks make thing all better sometimes. Right? Riiiight?” 

Doppo gaped, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t get a word in edgewise, any amount of argument rendered useless. Ramuda just smiled at him, watching him with those bright eyes that always seemed a little too intense, too glassy. Yes, it was definitely like staring down a cat. A cat ready to play with its prey-- and Doppo had a feeling he was the mouse. Still, he couldn't find fault in Ramuda's words. More alcohol might make things a little less unbearable. 

“Well... if you put it what way.” Doppo said, looking at the drink he still held. It had already been paid for, and it couldn’t have been cheap... and he’d be absolutely ungrateful if he didn’t take the olive branch he was being offered; or at least the gift, no matter how awful. 

“Right! Of course I’m right! Sit down! You can drink with me.” Ramuda patted the seat next to him impatiently. Obediently, Doppo sat down, bouncing a little from the plushness of the cushion. Not even giving him time to settle in, Ramuda kept talking, the Fling Posse leader leaning forward to fidget with the grapefruit wedge on the rim of his equally pink drink. 

“So like. My posse was supposed to come with me. We were gonna bond and start getting ready for the next rap battle. Gentaro supposed to have come up with some fancy new lyrics.” Ramuda’s lips pulled into a pout, but he didn’t stop, even for Doppo to make an polite, attentive sound. 

“But they’re both lame. Gentaro has a deadline, and Dice gambled himself into pet sitting for this guy with a bunch of chihuahuas, apparently? I dunno, he does weird stuff when he’s got no cash. Anyway, they left me here all alone.” 

Doppo nodded, realizing that he probably didn’t need to respond. This was not a two-way conversation, but a monologue. He decided to take a sip of his new drink. While he was right, it was extremely sweet, it was also tasty. Sweet and sour and not too booze-forward. He kept drinking. If it was poisoned, it was too late now. 

“Theeen I thought I’d invite some of my number one ladies...” 

This sounded familiar. Host-mode Hifumi loved to chatter about his ‘kittens’. He guessed Ramuda really liked to play up his childish appearance. 

“But this bar’s really small, and super crowded, so I couldn’t just send an invite to my exclusive private group chat, that would be too much. Bt wouldn’t be fair to invite just a couple of my fans either-- so I decided I could totally come alone and find someone to hang out with here! And here you are!” 

Doppo stared, completely baffled. There were more than a few beautiful women in the bar and Mr. Easy R over here could have glommed onto any of them without issue. Yet, he’d chosen to hang out with the most disappointing person available.

“You looked so, sooooo sad. It made my heart ache. But then you were super pissed, so I thought I really needed to know what was going on and drink all those worries away!” 

Ah. So it was curiosity. And pity. That figured. Doppo still wondered if there was another ulterior motive, but if he couldn’t get a word in edgewise, how would he ask questions? He drank instead. Finally, when the chatter lulled, Doppo spoke up. 

“I... I don’t really like places like this. That’s all. You didn’t have to do that. I’m just a wet-blanket... you shouldn’t drink with me.” 

Ramuda rolled his eyes and took a drink of his own cocktail. 

“Psh. Jakurai doesn’t really hang out with boring people. Like, I hate the old man.” 

Doppo twitched. 

“But I know him, too. Come on! Let’s just have some fun. Drink-- maybe you can work out some of that sanger.”

“San--” 

“Sad anger! Just drink, Kannonzaka.” 

So Ramuda did know his name. Huh. Well, he wasn’t getting out of it. Fine. He drank, the sweet drink going down easily. 

----- 

Maybe a bit too easily. Doppo couldn’t count how many drinks he’d had. Or count at all, actually. His world was a pleasant buzz and swirl of activity-- and a lot of anger. All of his grievances were completely uncaged by the alcohol’s skeleton key.  

The conversation had started out easy enough. Ramuda asked about his teammates and got little mumbled responses, and then chattered about his own. He spoke about Empty Candy’s new fashion line and then got really bored of trying to parse out what exactly Doppo job was. (Mostly analytics and IT support. Nothing exciting, and really nothing Doppo had any passion for.)

After they had gotten three or four drinks in (okay, maybe Doppo had. Ramuda was on his second, pacing himself) and the conversation had turned to not only what Doppo did, but what his work was like. That was like a flood gate, broken by the storm. (The storm was alcohol.) Oddly, Ramuda turned out to be a very good listener. 

“--And this is after working overtime six days in a row! And on Sunday!” 

Ramuda nodded along, adding little ‘ooooh, I see’ and ‘whaaat?’ interjections between Doppo’s numerous rants. 

“I mean, fuck. I keep having to sleep at my desk, and now they’re making me pay for this goddamn party. I just did all their work! Can’t they give me a break!? And now I’m gonna be hung over, and I won’t be able to make pancakes with Hifumi tomorrow, and he’ll do those puppy eyes and tell me he understands and-- FUCK!” Doppo didn’t hesitate to tip back the rest of his drink. Ramuda gestured for another to be brought over. 

“Wooow. It sounds like your job is suuuuper super shitty. And you reaaaally hate it.”

Doppo paused, frowning. “It’s... not that bad.” He muttered. “We do a lot of good work. And everyone depends on me. So...” 

Ramuda pushed the new drink toward him as it came. “Yeah, they depend on you, but that’s because they’re shitty and lazy and make you do their jobs! What are they getting paid for, anyway?” 

“They work...” Doppo sipped forlornly at his drink. “And I don’t... hate it. I like technology, and I know how to do the work. I’ve been working there for years.” 

“And like, you’re not the boss yet?” Ramuda gasped. “Oh my god. They are totally abusing you, Docchi.” 

Doppo blinked, but found himself a touch too drunk to put effort into questioning the new nickname. 

“I bet they’re not even paying overtime! That’s totally illegal.” 

Was it? Doppo didn’t know, but he did know he wasn’t really getting paid any more for his late hours. 

“What are your benefits even like? You’re pretty senior, so you’ve gotta have a lot of paid vacation days.” 

Doppo stared into his glass, slumping back against the booth a bit. 

“Insurance? Pension? They have to give you some perks!” 

Ramuda’s expression, when Doppo looked up, seemed a lot less playful than his tone belied. 

“I... have vacation days... and stuff like all that. They’ve gotta give it to me.” It was illegal not to. But like Ramuda pointed out, his overtime was definitely not being counted, which was sketchy at best. 

“Yeah, but you get shamed if you use any of those vacation days, right? Or are sick, or anything?” 

Doppo was quiet, rage cooled by how awkward he suddenly felt. ”I... there’s a lot of work to do. There’s no time for that. I’ve got to do my part. And they might... they might... If I get mad, they might fire me. And then I’m totally worthless. We won’t be able to pay rent, and I would fail Hifumi and--”

Ramuda leaned over and put a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. “Docchi, if you’re doing all that work, they can’t afford to fire you. Do you know how hard it would be to find someone else with all your experience, who’s willing to work so hard?” 

While that was a good point, Ramuda obviously didn’t know his shitty boss. 

“At least demand a raise. You’re senior enough that you should be getting one. And take a vacation! Hakone’s not super busy this time of year, or Kamakura’s beaches? You need to relax. Go with Mr. Host! It’ll be romantic!” 

Doppo was stuck on the idea of demanding a raise. The rest of the suggestion flew over his head. A raise... yeah, he deserved that much. He’d worked hard for over a decade now and did the work of an entire office. If he was going to do all of the work with no excuse, he should have been paid more. But... 

“I don’t think that’ll go over well.” He drank. Deeply. “They might cut my pay again...” 

“Again?” Ramuda’s brow furrowed. Concern, anger, amusement, it was hard to tell sober, it was impossible drunk. 

“You need to get a new job!” 

Doppo started, managing to spill the rest of the drink over the table and into his lap. He cursed, frantically grabbing for napkins to clean himself and the table off. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I made a total mess, and you’re treating me--”

Ramuda sighed, stood, and helped him clean off. “Is this just how you are, or are you sooooo stressed that even drunk you’re ready to drop into dogenza?” 

Doppo blushed, and the redness was not from alcohol. He mumbled something like ‘both’ and continued his clean up. When things were satisfactorily dry, they sat back down on the opposite side of the booth. The conversation had gone quiet, Ramuda watching him with an intentness that made Doppo fidget in his seat. 

“Y’know.” Ramuda leaned on the table, head propped up by his elbow. “My summer collection is gonna be huge.” 

Doppo blinked, looking up wide-eyed at the new topic. He was relieved that they weren’t talking about his job anymore, but he didn’t know where this was going. 

“And I do a lot of work on my own. Designing, marketing, sewing, photography. I’ve got help, for like, when a brand is buying my stuff, but it’s a whoooole ton of work, y’know? I’m super popular.” 

This, Doppo did know. Hifumi even owned one of Empty Candy’s sweatshirts, rivalry be damned. It was a little expensive, sure, but the fleece was soft, warm, and a nice shade of sunshine yellow that matched Hifumi’s smile. He’d said people at work were talking about the collection, and the winter collection had been on sale. It was... cute. 

“So. I could use a hand.” Ramuda dug in his pocket and pulled out a business card. It was bright yellow, emblazoned with metallic pink candies. The card read: ‘Ramuda Amemura, Empty Candy Lead Designer’. The rest was blurred by Doppo's swimming head, but he assumed it listed contact information and office location. Out of habit, Doppo scrambled to get a copy of his own business card, boring white and black, to exchange it. Ramuda took it when Doppo took his. 

“Uh... what’s this for?” Doppo stammered, looking it over back and front. 

“I was thinking-- you should come work for me! Be my personal assistant!” 

In that moment, things went from confusing to complete nonsense. Doppo was being offered a job. By the leader of the group that Mantenrou had a bitter rivalry with. At a bar. For the fashion industry. He could only stare into Ramuda’s perfectly serious face. 

“What?” 

Ramuda, the bastard he was, giggled. “You heard me. You’re used to being stepped all over--” 

Hey, that was a bit cruel. 

“You’ve got good skills with accounting and using computers... you’re frantic enough to be fast about stuff. It wouldn’t be worse than your job right now! Plus, I’d totally pay you better, and give you real vacation time. You’d just have to put up with little old me!” Ramuda pressed his pointer finger into a dimple, grinning. 

Doppo looked down at the card again. “...Why?” 

Ramuda hummed, high pitched, but thoughtful. “‘Cause you’re sad. And it would drive Jakurai crazy. And I could really use the help. You’ve got the apologizing down, so its not like training would be hard!”  

Once again, he was right. But Doppo could not formulate a sentence right now. Not drunk and completely flabbergasted. 

“Think about it, okay?” Ramuda hopped up, patting him on the shoulder cheerfully. The small hand had more forced than he'd expected, leaving an ache in his already tired muscles. “I’ve gotta get going, but let me know!” 

Doppo nodded, looking up at Ramuda’s smiling face for a moment and wondering if this was all a crazy dream. That would make more sense. 

“Don’t keep me waiting!” With that, Ramuda left, paying the tab at the bar before letting the door swing behind him. A whirl of pink and teal and yellow.

Then Doppo was alone with a half full drink and a business card. He spent a long time staring at it, wondering if it would bite him. 

“Kannonzaka! We’re headed out. Pay the tab!” Doppo looked up, blinking blearily as a couple of his coworkers came into view. His boss was being supported by two of his underlings, the young workers struggling to drag him out of the bar. They gave Doppo an apologetic grimace.

Doppo scrambled up and bowed, head spinning. “Of course! I’ve got it--sorry.” 

Without a word of thanks, the door swung closed behind them too. Doppo looked at the business card one last time, shining on the table, and tucked it into his suit pocket. He’d think about it. He at least owned Ramuda that, after all of those drinks. Hopefully he'd remember, come morning.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Doppo didn’t think much at all about the conversation he’d had at the bar, nor Ramuda’s job offer. It was hard to, when he’d woken the next morning to a pounding headache and a stomach that wanted to flip inside out. The whole world was blurry and pulsed with the throb of his aching head. His only solace came from the cold bathroom floor and the sweet comfort of the heated toilet seat. Oh, and of course, Hifumi. Bright and painful to look at and listen to with the nasty hangover he was suffering, Hifumi was an angel from heaven, kneeling behind him to rub his back. (Just the biblical sort, Do not be afraid or whatever.)

They did end up making pancakes after all, even with Doppo’s misery. Or Hifumi did, not that that was unusual. Doppo slumped against the kitchen table with a cup of water in hand and a bottle of aspirin in reach. He’d wanted coffee, but Hifumi had scolded him. 

“Doc keeps telling you! Coffee’s not good for dehydration, Doppochin!” 

And Hifumi’s voice wasn’t good for his head, but here they were. 

The pancakes, as always, were warm and fluffy, thick stacks covered in syrup and butter. There were eggs too, and bacon, which Hifumi had made into a smiling face on his plate. Doppo only gave him a pointed stare and flipped the bacon down to frown. Hifumi had laughed his sunshine laugh until Doppo felt as if it would give him a sunburn. The pancakes burned too, but that was because he’d eaten them before they had cooled. 

It was Sunday, thankfully, and his boss was definitely too hungover to call him into the office (or so he hoped). It could be a day off where he relaxed, slept off his suffering, and took care of his plants. Hifumi had to work that night, so he’d probably sleep a lot of the day as well, but that was fine. It could be a sleepy day where he didn’t have to think about the drastic decrease his bank account was facing from the night before. 

Except, he did think about it. His bank sent him a text ensuring he did, warning of his large withdrawal. Doppo sat on the couch as Hifumi darted around doing his housework, staring at his phone’s screen, heart knotted tightly in his chest. He hadn’t even had fun at the party and here he was. Suffering. They didn’t pay him enough for this. 

They didn’t. 

Setting his phone down, Doppo reached over to the side of the couch to pick up his suit jacket, discarded there in his drunken daze. It was an inelegant movement with grabbing hands and lanky body half off the couch, but he managed to tug it toward him, fingers searching the pockets. Out came the business card, still glossy and bright, “Ramuda Amemura” emblazoned on the front in bubble letters. Doppo turned it over in his hands, held it up to the light. No hidden messages, no ephemeral flimsiness. Just stiff cardstock, shimmering as it was moved. The conversation he’d had last night hadn’t been a dream, just a conversation under a haze of alcohol. He couldn't say he remembered exactly what they'd talked about, but he could remember the righteous anger.

No raise offered. No promotion. No overtime compensation or vacation time. Ramuda had hit each nail on the head, each blow sharp and painful. 

He set it down on the coffee table in front of him and picked up his phone, thumb hovering over the keypad, poised to start pressing. It would be easy to type in that phone number, to call, to text-- or even email. As old as his flip phone was, it could do that much. Ramuda had offered him an opportunity. He knew the offer was still cruel grueling work under a sadistic boss, but it also promised better pay and benefits for the same humiliation. If Ramuda had been sincere-- which felt more surreal than any part of their drunk conversation-- then it couldn’t hurt to inquire, right? Maybe... maybe it would be worth it. Doppo could secure the job and finally escape the same kind of hell he's been trapped in for a decade.   

He set down the phone. What was he doing? He couldn’t just quit and leave, new job lined up or not. He’d worked for his company for years. He’d put literal blood, sweat, and tears into it. Surely all of the abuse he experienced was for the good of the company. He needed to work harder, do better. He was a senior worker, he had to set an example. It wasn’t as if he was making bad money, either. He hadn’t asked, but the others around him had to be making the same grueling wage; that was how office work was. If he ever wanted to move up in station, he would have to just keep at it. He snapped his phone closed and put the card back into his jacket pocket. 

Someone like Ramuda wouldn’t understand that kind of commitment. He was frivolous and childish. He worked the fast-paced world of fashion, and his best friends were a compulsive liar and a gambling addict. He wouldn’t know what hard work or loyalty were. Even his current team was just a fling. Ramuda Amemura was not a good man. He was messing with him, to be sure. If Doppo quit, it would be all a joke, and he would be left jobless and would have no purpose left in life. He would be even more of a burden. They wouldn’t be able to afford their apartment, and Hifumi would have to work harder and see more clients and-- 

“Whatcha doing?” 

Doppo let out a high pitched scream of shock, physically flinching as Hifumi popped his head over the couch. The host had the nerve to laugh. 

“Do-on’t do that...!” Doppo warned breathlessly, shooting him a glare. Hifumi flipped his hand dismissively. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He wasn’t sorry. “You just looked so serious! I wanted to know what you were focusing so hard on.” 

Doppo grumbled, something about how he always looked like that, and shrugged. “Just... work stuff.” Hifumi huffed. 

“On your day off? They really work you to the bone.” Hifumi took his hand, holding it in both of his, and started rubbing circles into the palm. Some sort of massage. “So tense!” 

The gesture was so sudden, Doppo would have jerked away in surprise-- if Hifumi didn't do this sort of thing all the time. Always touching and pushing and squeezing. Doppo wasn't sure if he enjoyed having his personal space encroached upon all the time, but he had to admit it felt nice, deft fingertips pressing into sore joints.. 

“It’s... nothing I’ve got to worry about today.” He was, of course, going to worry about it. Doppo’s thoughts swirled. He nearly betrayed his workplace, though he found this negative loop frequently interrupted once again by Ramuda’s words. Even if the designer had been cruelly joking with him, they rang. A raise. A vacation. He saw his coworkers talking about bonuses all the time, and trips they would take with their families and loved ones. Doppo had never gotten those things.

Still. Maybe he just needed to bring it up to management. An oversight, that’s all. 

“Well, okay. But try not to think about it anyway. You need some sleep. I can water your plants if you want to rest.” 

Doppo offered him a tired smile. “No, I’ve got it. Some of them need a little pruning, so...” Hifumi smiled brightly and dropped his hand. 

“You’re such a good plant dad, Doppochin. Make sure to water yourself too, okay?” Hifumi patted his cheek. Doppo rolled his eyes in response. 

“I can take care of myself, Hifumi...” He got a doubtful look at that. 

“Uh... huh. Sure. I’ll wake you up for lunch if you’re sleeping.” Hifumi really did know Doppo best after all. It was a definite possibility he would sleep through eating.

“...Thanks.” 

--------

That Sunday turned out to be the only day Doppo had that week that was even remotely restful. Monday started back up early. Seven AM. On paper, he started at nine, but in practice there were too many things to get done in the morning to start that late. His saving grace was that he lived near his workplace thanks to Hifumi’s paycheck. That way, he didn’t have to take the first train. Just one of the earlier ones. The cabin was crowded, hot, and uncomfortable. The trip wasn’t long enough to catch a nap, but it wasn’t so short that he could space out and come to at the station. It was true misery. He grabbed some bread at a convenience store, shoved it in his mouth, and got there at 7:05. 

The office was mostly dark, but he wasn’t alone, other unhappy peons starting up computers and wiping down desks. Hot coffee would have to be ready for the higher ups, everything would have to be sanitized, and all computers had to be up to date. If it hadn’t been done before, the floors would have to be vacuumed. Doppo personally made it his duty to care for everyone’s desk plants. Sure, no one asked him to, but no one seemed able to take care of them, either. It was possibly the only part of his job that he enjoyed, even if his shitty boss got the credit for the bright leaves on his peace lily. It wasn’t the plants’ faults that people were awful, after all. 

Everyone who wasn’t a pushover came in around 8:30. Emails were opened and answered, project progress was checked upon. The boss typically had a brief office meeting to go over what was going on in the company, and most people tuned out. Today, he called everyone together and announced a new project. A new project that, considering everyone's current workload, was going to be a nightmare. This was especially true for Doppo, as he did everyone’s work and handled customer service in one swoop. Working sales really was the absolute worst. 

The meeting ended, and Doppo had to just stand there and process. It was par for the course, but it was a terrible course, and a little voice at the back of his brain, a bolder one, kept nudging him with little thoughts like ‘this is hell’ and 'they should be paying me the salary of three, no, four people’. He did nothing with these thoughts, startling out of the daze as his coworkers patted his shoulder and, with fake friendliness, thanked him in advance for his ‘help’. It was times like these where he wished he listened to one of the other little voices, the angry one that told him to kill everyone in the office. This voice too, was ignored due to good sense. He slogged himself back to his desk, covered in stacks of paperwork not present before the meeting. He hadn’t even sat down yet and someone had offloaded their work. 

He opened the database software and, like Sisyphus and the boulder, started the eternally pointless task of data input and management. He could imagine it now. He would keep doing stacks of papers that would never lessen. Then he would tire. It would collapse on top of him. And then he would die. Not the best way to go, but Doppo figured it would end his suffering. If it was heavy enough, he would be gone instantly. 

His fingers kept typing. 

They kept typing, even as it got dark, and after when his boss ‘asked’ him to do overtime. Doppo had to note that, ah. No. He wasn’t getting paid for the extra hours, let alone at a higher rate. He made sure to fill up his mug with coffee at every chance he got.

He went home, ate the Hifumi-made dinner in the fridge, slept, and repeated. He went back the next day, and typed. And kept typing, only taking breaks to fill his mug and go to the bathroom. Once again, he went home late, ate cold dinner, slept. Next day. The same. And the next. And the next. Every day, overtime, overtime, overtime. It had been almost four days straight of overtime when he was asked to finish the project by the next day. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t go home, he worked, and he drank coffee. He turned off his phone when Hifumi’s worried texts started to grate on him. Jakurai texted too, once or twice; he’d missed their appointment. Doppo felt guilty, of course, but he had to get his work done. He had to. He had to prove that he was actually important to the company, that the job was actually worth it, that the conversation he’d had with Ramuda-- it wasn’t worth acting on. 

There were times where he thought he would collapse, his blood replaced with coffee and sleep a faint memory, but he sat up and kept working. Somehow, he managed to keep his mug always full, like a lucky caffeinated charm. When things got bad, he would refill it and look at the bright teal ceramic that stood out of place in the drab office. It was really dumb, but it made him smile to have a spot of color. It was a gift from Hifumi when they’d graduated High School and Doppo had started this god-forsaken job. One of those mugs you got from a nicer hundred yen shop, made of glossy ceramic and emblazoned with something cute. The cat on it was nearly worn away with time, but he could see its little paw pads and smile. He wasn’t sure why, but it let him keep going. He took a long drink, savoring the bitter coffee by the light of his monitor.

 Saturday, he could rest. 

------

People could come in a bit later on Saturday, so it wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that he was woken by people laughing. Doppo didn’t remember falling asleep, but apparently he did, as he felt the indent of keys on his cheek as he sat up. With a slow, sleepy blink, he realized he was being laughed at, his coworkers' eyes turned toward him. His cheeks burned with shame. He couldn’t have been the first person to fall asleep at his desk-- and he knew he wasn’t, but he still scrambled to wipe drool from his face and straighten out his rumpled clothing. 

He picked up his mug, took a sip of his terrible tepid coffee and woke up the screen. To his relief, he’d finished. All of that work and hardship, even after falling asleep, he’d finished. To be sure, he pressed save again, and breathed a sigh of relief. He could relax, just a bit, work the rest of the day, and go home. Hifumi wouldn’t be there, but he could sleep some and meet up with him and Jakurai on Sunday as they planned. The week was over. 

“Kannonzaka!” 

Doppo jolted, his mug jostled by the motion. He managed to stabilize it and not get cold coffee all over his workspace. His balding, rat-faced manager stood over him, giving him a look that would have been stern, if he wasn’t just so deeply unpleasant in attitude and features. 

“Y-Yes!” Doppo’s expression was weary, but the startling made his voice squeak, just a bit. 

“We got another request from the client. You need to add this to the sales report.” This boss, the absolute bastard, put a stack of files on his desk. 

“But... I just pulled an all-nighter. I can’t do this too.” Maybe it was his exhaustion, but he muttered words felt as if they were totally inaudible. They must have been, since his boss continued anyway. 

“And edit the sales presentation. Ichiouji is out of the office in Hakone and won’t be back until Monday.” Wait, he was doing the work of someone on vacation?!

“Sir--” 

“Here. Scan these promo materials and add them to the slides. It shouldn’t be too hard.” Another stack of papers was hefted onto the desk and slid forward. Doppo lifted his hands, overwhelmed. His desk wasn’t big enough for all this, not after last night’s reports. 

“Sir, I can’t--” 

The boss either didn’t hear him, or willfully pretended not to. “Get it done by the end of the day, will you?” With that, and a final shove of papers, a few things happened in succession. One. It did indeed topple the first stack over, falling heavily on top of Doppo who, for a split moment, thought this was actually how it was going to end. Two, his chair fell backward, tipping him onto the floor. Three, the mug, which had been right in front of him, was displaced by the falling documents. Coffee spilled all over his front and the mug shattered on the ground with a crash beside him. 

It felt like everything froze. Doppo managed to sit up, wet with coffee stains and sore from being battered by files, and picked up the largest shard of the mug. The cat’s smile had been fractured. The toe-beans had been separated from each other. The teal ceramic lay in pieces around him. Dully, he heard footsteps approach him, a low murmur of voices-- directed at him or not, he didn't know.

All he could parse before blind rage took over his senses was his boss speaking. “Kannonzaka, organize better! Clean that up, you disgrace!” 

Doppo stood with someone's help, still holding the shard in his hand, grip tight. Perhaps too tight, with how the edges cut into his palm. He didn’t notice though, not while his blood burned red hot. All these years of working and struggling and doing everything he’d ever been asked to do-- and this was the last straw. The last bit of lingering happiness he held onto in that damned office was shattered on the ground. 

“You do it.” 

The boss balked, expression slackening in surprise. “What?” 

“You heard me, you shitty, balding old man! You clean up the mess you made!” Doppo grit his teeth. “You’re gonna have to, because I sure as hell aren’t doing it! I worked all goddamn night on getting this report done, and you want me to do all this, and be a janitor?! Fuck you, I’m done!” The office had gone quiet, every single other worker turning their head to watch the spectacle. “You clean up, you do the report, you do the presentation. Because I QUIT!” 

Doppo kicked his already toppled chair, grabbed his jacket and briefcase, and stormed off, shoving his boss bodily out of the way as everyone stood in silence. Doppo Kannonzaka left the building, although not before slamming the office door closed and screaming to the sky. It was possibly the most cathartic thing he had ever done and he couldn’t enjoy it. His adrenaline was so high that he didn’t actually have a clue what just happened until he was half-way home. He only started processing things when the shard of pottery had began to drawn blood, the pain finally pushing through his anger to let his brain catch up to things outside his blind rage. 

His pace slowed. His grip loosened. What had he just done? 

Doppo’s legs carried him forward for another block or two, just on auto pilot, as his brain reviewed the events. Finishing the report, check. Woken up by being laughed at, check. Got given more work by shitty baldy boss, check. Mug broken and-- Oh, he’d really done that, hadn’t he. 

He diverted himself to the edge of the sidewalk and sat down heavily, eyes widening as each event registered. He’d quit. After years of working, years of putting in his all, he’d thrown that away. He’d put up with so much before, why was it a mug breaking that had gotten him past the point of no return? Doppo lifted the shard in his hand, now a touch streaked with blood, and looked at the fractured and faded face of the cat. He’d really liked that mug. Finally managing to let go of the sharp piece, he set it down next to him and stared at the cuts in his palm. 

What would he do now? He’d quit his job. He’d... quit. He would have to go back, he should have gone back right there and then. He needed to beg for it back, to apologize for his outburst. It would be bad, he would have an awful pay cut and would have to do overtime for months, but they would take him back, wouldn’t they? 

He poked at the injury and winced, teeth gritting. Tears leapt to his eyes. He pressed harder to blame them on the pain. Did he want them to take him back? It was their fault the mug broke. It was their fault he’d worked too hard. It was their fault he hadn’t had a vacation in years, he hadn’t had a good night sleep in years, hadn't had a moment of peace in years. Why would he want to keep doing a job like that? They berated him, made him do all the work. He was treated like a slave, like a machine. No appreciation, no recognition.

But... there was the problem of Hifumi. If he didn’t work, he wouldn’t be able to afford his portion of their rent. They might have to move. Hifumi might not be able to afford the things he liked. He might, he might--  He was going to be such a burden. A slug, no, worse, slugs were mostly harmless. A leech. A snake.  A cockroach. Yes, he’d fouled up his job and he was going to foul up his own life and the lives of those around him. Hifumi would... probably understand his decision, actually, but that didn’t make it any less bad. And Dr. Jinguji had suggested quitting his job a long while ago. But they didn’t understand. He had to do work. He had to be useful, or what was the point of his life? Doppo had no talents, no hobbies, no personality. If he couldn’t work, what was he? 

He couldn’t tell Hifumi. He couldn’t tell Dr. Jakurai He couldn’t burden them with his mistakes. What could he do, then? He couldn’t hide being unemployed.

He flipped open his phone and turned it back on. Immediately, he was blown up with messages. 

Where r u? Work?

Doppochin answer

I’m gonna eat ur dinner! Lololol

Please answer, I’m worried

Doppo, I didn’t see you at our appointment today, is everything alright? 

Please respond when you can. 

We can set up another. 

Please text Hifumi, He’s very worried.

R U comin home? 

Doppochin? 

Doppo swallowed thickly, his vision running with hot tears. He couldn’t. He already worried them so much, already put so much on them. He looked up, watching people go by. He didn’t feel like he belonged there, even sitting in the street as he was. Maybe it would have been better if-- 

His phone buzzed with a new text. He didn’t recognize the number. 

It’s Ramuda! ❤  You think bout it yet? 

Doppo stared blankly, then groped at his jacket pockets, searching. He drew out the business card, a touch damp and stained with coffee, but still legible. The number matched. Of course. 

What the hell. He was jobless now, anyway. He numbly typed in the number and held the phone up to his ear. It rang. He regretted it immediately. Doppo moved to hang up, but the speaker clicked and Ramuda’s bubbly voice came over the phone. 

“Hey, hey, Mr. Salary Man! I thought you were totally gonna blow me off or something.”

Doppo was quiet for a moment, finding his voice. 

“Helloooo? Docchiiiiii?”  Ramuda, as always, was impatient. 

“I’ll do it.” Doppo was shocked by how sure he sounded. 

“Ehhhh? I haven’t even told you about the job yet! Did I charm you that much?” Doppo swallowed, suddenly nervous. He definitely hadn’t actually heard anything about it. 

“I’m sorry-- I’ll let you-- I’m sorry--” Ramuda giggled, and Doppo’s regret deepened. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay! Why don’t you meet me tomorrow and talk it over, kay? I’m so happy you’re so excited to work for me~” Why did he do this again? Right. He’d rage quit his job. 

“Um... right. When? And... where?” Shibuya streets were as confusing as Shinjuku ones. Maps could only get him so far. 

“I know this cute cafe near my studio! I’ll email you the address! And... ummm. How about one? That way you can get all that beauty sleep you need. Give those eye bags a rest!” 

Eye bags? Hifumi went on about those. Doppo just thought they were part of his eyes. 

“Okay. I can do that... I’ll um... bring... whatever.” Standard stuff, he would assume, but who knew with Ramuda. 

“Kaaaay~ See you then! Have a good day, Docchi! Say hello to Jakurai for me!” Seeing as he wasn’t employed yet, he wouldn’t be doing either of those things. The call clicked as it ended, and Doppo was stuck staring at his phone. 

What the fuck had he just gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Doppo didn’t sleep much that night. Granted, he didn’t sleep much in general, due to his work schedule-- correction, his previous work schedule-- but the point stood that he spent a whole lot of time staring up at the ceiling while he laid in bed, listening to the soft city sounds outside of his window. Shinjuku was a lively place, even at night. Nightclubs and bars stayed open until the wee hours of the morning, cars drove down streets significantly emptied of people, and drunk groups teetered home, speaking in loud but incomprehensible voices. 

In bed, he felt distant from all of that. The sounds of Shinjuku’s nightlife dulled to a hum of white noise. He couldn’t count the number of times that it had lulled him to sleep when his mind was too busy and his body was exhausted. It wasn’t doing the trick this time, however. The events of the day played and replayed and every sudden engine roar or boisterous laugh restarted the endless loop. He remembered the fall, the crash of ceramic on linoleum. Him screaming, quitting. Calling Ramuda, of all people. Accepting a job from Ramuda of all people.

Honestly, the normality of his day felt strange after all that. He’d wandered aimlessly around Shinjuku, watching people pass by. At some point, he’d stopped to pick up groceries, the same ones he’d planned on buying that evening after work, and then gone to a bookstore near the station, just to stare at the titles uncomprehendingly. He’d walked out with a manga magazine. He didn’t remember why he’d bought it. He immediately hated himself for making a such a stupid purchase after quitting his job. Who knew if he would be paid again any time soon? There was always a chance he would be left at the café tomorrow at one, alone and awkward. He nearly threw the whole magazine away, but hesitated. He’d paid good money for it and... he thought he’d seen Hifumi reading something similar at some point. He tucked it under his arm and moved on.

Doppo had still managed to arrive home early. Hours early. He could still hear Hifumi humming to himself in his bedroom, half practicing lyrics, half adlibbing. Getting ready for work, then. There was plenty of time before he actually had to leave, but the make-up routine he followed was extensive. So was his emotional preparation, regardless of the protection his jacket gave. Doppo put the grocery bags down on the kitchen counter, and hesitated for a long second. Somehow, words were reluctant to come out. 

“I’m home.” He forced his voice to be loud enough for Hifumi to hear. He listened for a half second, then heard activity and clattering as Hifumi rushed out of his bedroom. The host was only half made up, and his hair was still damp from a shower, but he beamed all the same. 

“Welcome home! You’re super early~!” 

Doppo hesitated again, fidgeting as he started to take the groceries from the bag and place them in a neat line to be put away. What was he going to say? Sure, he lied about being fine all the time, but complicated lies were... not his strong suit. He decided on being as truthful as he could. 

“I finished my project. So I came home.” Lame. Terrible. Hifumi would see through it immediately, he knew he would, it wasn’t as if Hifumi had known him since they were kids, oh no. Hifumi did indeed look puzzled. 

“Uh... huh. They just let you?” 

Doppo shrugged helplessly, not making eye contact. “I fell asleep at my desk, so... they decided I was useless, I guess...” Hifumi continued to look at him skeptically, but shrugged, and came over to help him put things away. 

“Being tired isn’t useless, Doppochin. You had me super worried, y’know-- but if you just fell asleep, that’s okay. I forgive you.” Hifumi patted his shoulder, appraised at the cucumbers he had bought, and tucked them away into the fridge.

“I’m sorry-- I know I worried you. And Dr. Jinguji. I know-- I’m so sorry, I really--” Hifumi stopped his unending apology with a solid pat on the head. 

“Shhh. Nope, no. No apologizing. You worked really hard is all.” Hifumi reached over Doppo’s shoulder to grab a package of pork cutlets. “So! Thanks for your hard work! It’s time for you to take a break! And also call Doc to make a new appointment.” Doppo flushed in embarrassment and nodded. He... wasn’t looking forward to that. If Hifumi could tell something was odd, Jakurai would be able to tell in an instant. 

“Go sit down. I’ll put these away, and make tea! You look like you need aaaaall the rest you can get.” 

Doppo was too tired to protest, too tired to point out that Hifumi was busy and was working hard too. All of the fight had gone out of him in that one explosion of anger. He trudged to the couch and all but collapsed. He really did just want to sleep, for this to all be a dream and to wake up with his shitty job to do in the morning. Dream or not, though, he did have a duty to at least text Jakurai before passing out. 

Sorry. I fell asleep at work. I’ll come next time, for sure. 

He didn’t get a response for a while. Dr. Jinguji was busy, after all. He was a doctor, helping other people and shouldn’t have been wasting his time with-- His phone buzzed. 

I see. I’m glad you’re alright, Doppo. Try not to work yourself quite so hard. 

I have an opening next week. Can you make time in your lunch break? 

Doppo stared at the text message. Could he? Of course he could. It wasn’t like he had a job. Not that Jakurai knew that. 

Yeah. I’ll make time. 

He didn’t stay very awake for long after that. He remembered Hifumi helping him to bed, and then him waking up to the dark. And now, once again, Doppo couldn’t sleep. He pressed his hand to his forehead, willing the circle of events to not happen again. He just needed to rest, and know nothing. Sure, he could take the sleep medication he’d been prescribed, but... 

He looked over to the pill bottle on his nightstand, still mostly full. He didn’t feel like he deserved the relief. It was his own stupid choices that got him here, after all. It was only right for him to be kept up like this. He didn’t... 

Maybe it was good he’d made another appointment with Jakurai. Even he could tell that thinking he didn’t deserve mediation was on the edge of ridiculousness. He still didn’t take them, all the same. Instead, he picked up his phone and flipped it open. The lit display seared his eyes. Two AM. Six hours before he could reasonably get up without Hifumi wondering why he hadn’t slept in on his day off. Seven and a half until they were meeting Jakurai to go over their new lyrics. He pressed a few buttons, opening up his texts. Ramuda’s chain was still there, detailing the café location. It had not miraculously disappeared. That made it eleven hours until he had to face the most ridiculous choice he’d ever made in his life. Eleven hours to consider his mistakes and to worry about preparations. He couldn’t remember if he had a pressed suit. He couldn’t remember where in his computer he had kept a resume (when was the last time he’d needed one?). He couldn’t remember where his bank book was, or his non-essential ID. Maybe he would remember in the morning, but two AM Doppo could remember exactly zero of it. 

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, hard enough to make him see spots. What had the doctor said to do to fall asleep? What had Hifumi? Counting backwards made him anxious about finishing. Imagining a relaxing place just made him angry. Meditating? Meditating might work, if he could remember how to do it. Think nothing, just... focus on sensation and breathing. 

Honestly, it didn’t do much in the way of falling asleep. Doppo found himself just becoming anxious about meditating correctly. But... it was an improvement. He could be upset over this, and not what had been plaguing him. He could close his eyes and focus... 

--- 

Somehow, some way Doppo woke up. Which implied he’d fallen asleep. Which felt like a damn miracle. What wasn’t a damn miracle was how disgusting he felt. He’d napped too much, then slept too little. The universe was really out to get him. Clearly, he was never allowed to feel well. Ever. 

Dragging himself out of bed was a slog. His limbs were heavy, his eyes were heavy, his head hurt. He didn’t remember getting into pajamas, but they were warm, the bed was warm, and the combination of feeling like shit and his bed being a cocoon protecting him from the cruel world made things insurmountable. The clock near his bed said 10:14 AM though, so... 

Doppo threw himself out of bed, full body shivering from the cold. 10:14?! They were supposed to be out the door at 9:00 to meet Jakurai-- Doppo cursed himself, then Hifumi under his breath. Why hadn’t he been woken up? Why hadn’t he heard anything? He scrambled to his closet to dress, pulling on his pants inside out before realizing his mistake and fixing it. He was just able to pull a sweater on before he snatched up his phone to frantically check his messages. 

...Nothing? No texts? No missed calls? He was so late, and Hifumi-- Had he completely gotten the date wrong? Had something happened--?! 

Haphazard, but dressed, Doppo nearly slammed his door open in his haste. “Hifumi--!?” 

Instead of a missing host, or-- well, he didn’t know, he’d come home to a dead body once, for god’s sake... he found himself staring at two definitely alright, but also definitely startled people, having tea in his living room. That is to say, he’d charged in on Jakurai and Hifumi having a quiet conversation and enjoying some snacks. 

Jakurai recovered first, as he always did. The doctor’s expression relaxed and softened, a smile tugging at his lips. “Good morning, Doppo. Did you sleep well?” 

Doppo could only stare. Hifumi managed to gather his thoughts next, far before Doppo could even find words to stammer. 

“Morning~! Hope we didn’t wake you up?” Hifumi looked borderline sheepish, which typically meant that he had been up to something. Something he was now caught doing. Doppo swallowed. 

“I... you... meeting? We had a...” Now he just felt stupid. Of course he’d gotten the time wrong, or the day, or the fact they were meeting in their apartment. 

“Yeah! But I called Doc and told him how tired you were, so he said he would come here! And then we didn’t want to wake you.” Hifumi’s smile brightened, but he winced as he saw Doppo’s expression start to get angry. 

“Hifumi--!” Before Doppo could start a tirade, Jakurai held up his hand to stop him. 

“It was entirely my idea, Doppo.” He started, calmly. “I know that you worked very hard yesterday, and all week. You needed your rest. Hifumi and I were going to get started, and let you join us as you woke up.” 

Doppo looked down. Ah. So they hadn’t needed him. They were able to do all kinds of work as he slept on like a lump. Picking up on this obvious line of thought, Jakurai continued. “We were mostly working Hifumi’s parts. There’s no possible way we could edit yours, nor tie everything together without your input.” Jakurai gently patted the seat next to him. “Why don’t you sit down and... Hifumi, you put breakfast away for Doppo, right? Why not get that, and some coffee.” 

Hifumi was quick to hop up with a smile, taking Doppo by the shoulders and steering him to the couch. “You guys can start on your part, if you’re awake enough! I’ll get everything warmed up, and we’ll get you all nice and fed.” 

Doppo could feel hunger gnaw at his stomach, having not eaten dinner the night before. The coffee sounded nice too. It might make things a little more real, at minimum. He nodded. “Yeah... okay. Thanks.” 

The room settled into something of a comfortable quiet, Hifumi knocking around plates and tupperware as he warmed up Doppo’s breakfast. They wasted little time getting into plans for their verses, how they would tie together thematically, lyrically. Jakurai did most of the talking, Doppo exhausted and more than happy to nod along as he listened to what they’d done so far. Jakurai was just about to outline where Doppo’s verses would fit when Hifumi put down Doppo’s breakfast: a small bowl of soup, some rice, and fish. Next to it, he put down a faded orange cup of coffee, the face of a smiling cat almost rubbed off of the side. Doppo stared for a moment at the mug, then looked down at his hand. Oh. He’d almost forgotten. 

“Is something wrong?” Jakurai inquired, arching his head just slightly, using his height to get a look at Doppo’s palm. Before he could, however, Doppo sharply pulled his hand to his chest and shook his head. 

“I-It’s nothing! I was...” Evidently, Hifumi was having enough of Doppo’s excuses, as he snatched Doppo’s hand away to look at it properly. 

“It’s never nothing-- and look! Your hand’s hurt!” He turned the palm outward so Jakurai could see as well, turning the hand this way and that, no matter how awkward the angle. Blood had dried in the ridges of his palm, the cuts red and angry, but healing over. Jakurai frowned, and Doppo felt his heart sink deep into his gut. Disappointment, to be sure. 

“When did this happen?” Jakurai was nothing if not gentle in his words. Although he’d spent time looking at the injury as Hifumi presented it, he was staring at Doppo’s face now, watching his expression. Doppo swallowed thickly, darting his gaze elsewhere in a wash of shame and panic. 

“I-I just.. It was an accident, is all. I forgot.” It was the truth, but he did realize how lame and fake it sounded. He winced as Hifumi tugged his hand back toward him. 

“You forgot? How’d you forget this? It looks awful.” Doppo shrugged lamely. 

“I just did. It was stressful at work. Breaking a mug isn’t...” He trailed off, eyes widening in realization. He looked up at Hifumi’s worried face with an expression wrought with guilt. “...I.... I broke my mug.” 

Hifumi didn’t seem to understand, his expression twisted up in the way it did when he was truly confused. “And... that’s how you hurt your hand? Forget your own strength?” It was meant to be a joke, but he definitely wasn’t following. He’d probably forgotten all about the little teal mug, didn’t know how much it had made Doppo happy. If Doppo had wanted to take the orange one of the set, Hifumi wouldn’t have batted an eye. The thought made his eyes burn a bit-- not that he was going to cry. 

“I...I guess. I liked that mug, though.” He looked down toward the cup on the table. It steamed from the dark black coffee within. Hifumi tilted his head to follow his line of sight. 

“Oh, yeah! You have the teal one at work, right?”  He hadn’t forgotten, then. He just didn’t understand why it would be important. “Or... had. That’s too bad. I guess this one’s all alone.” 

“I’m sorry.” Doppo bowed his head. “It was a gift and I broke it-- I’m sorry.” He was about to continue on with his apology, but was stopped by a gentle hand on his head. Jakurai’s. 

“I’m sure it was an accident. Sometimes, things break.” Doppo really could feel himself tear up now. Things broke a lot in his life, not only mugs. He had to swallow back those tears, knowing he’d spill quite a lot more than tears if he cried. 

“The doc’s right! We can get another mug, Doppo. Let’s take care of you, first!” Hifumi gently patted the back of his hand. There wouldn’t be another mug that was that mug, and Doppo knew it. He also knew it wasn’t worth it to try and explain that to Hifumi. He lived too much in the present... and Doppo had a hard time moving on from the past. 

“...Right... okay.” Doppo felt Hifumi release his hand, and Jakurai take it. 

“Hifumi, can you get the first aid kit? I don’t think these will need stitches, but we ought to tend to it.” 

“Sure thing!” 

----

Between actually needing to work on their new rap and being fussed over, Doppo was hard pressed to escape to his job interview. What excuse he’d ended up making, he barely remembered. Something for work, he thought, or some errand. Either way, Hifumi had whined about it and Jakurai had watched him with the same mix of fond amusement and searching that he always did. It really didn’t matter in the end. He couldn’t be late to what was already going to be a terrible interview. Somehow, he’d scavenged up everything he remembered being useful when he’d searched for his first job. This included ID, his now very worn and drab business suit, a notebook and pen and, embarrassingly, a deeply outdated resume. In his rush, it had all ended up shoved in his bag anyway, so it probably didn’t matter how outdated it was, with the paper as wrinkled as it would become. Messenger bag pulled close and suit buttoned to as proper as he could manage, he headed for the station, and stumbled onto the Yamanote Line for Harajuku. 

Doppo felt out of place the moment he stepped off the train.

It wasn’t surprising that such a cute fashion line made its home in the kawaii capital of the world. The trendy young people, the artistic flair; Harajuku hadn’t become known for its fashionable air for nothing. It felt like, outside of tourists, everyone there was the epitome of fashion. Some were conventional, with street fashion or elegant simplicity. Some were more fringe, with bright colors, monochrome, or a ludicrous amount of accessories. Even the office workers, of which there were still many, made Doppo feel shabby with their high-end suits and neat hair. He had half a mind to turn around back to Shinjuku right that second. 

The other half of his mind recognized that he had no choice but to continue on. It was either this interview or being unemployed. He wasn’t sure if he would suffer more financially or mentally, without work. He kept his head down and moved with the flow of people, carefully steering himself toward the exit he wanted. Harajuku was as crowded outside the station as it was inside, and the tide of the crowd spit him out the moment it separated in two: one headed to Takeshita Street and the other to the Meiji Shrine. Doppo thanked whatever god that was listening that Ramuda wasn’t in either of these places, having tucked his headquarters in Harajuku’s back streets. 

Doppo flipped open his phone, checking the time. 12:45. If he was quick, he would get there just in time. He just needed to force himself through the throngs to get to the café-- and hope that Ramuda had made a reservation. He was having a hard time seeing a café that didn’t have a line out the door. Maybe he should have agreed to meet on a weekday... Well, too late now. He took a deep breath and dove back in, pushing his way forward as best he could. 

---

Harajuku’s backstreets were calmer, more quiet. The alleyways lined with little cafes and fashion shops were labyrinthine, sure, but Doppo found he could breathe better without people pushing in on every side. The bustle of the station and of weekenders going to popular spots didn’t compare to the friendly and quiet hum of these back areas, not a couple of blocks away. Maybe if he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, he might have felt a little at ease. But Doppo was always either invisible or obnoxiously obvious, and neither gave him any comfort. The search for the café began. 

It wasn’t actually as hard as he thought to find it. Surprisingly, Ramuda’s directions were easy to follow, and the café was.... Very easy to spot. It was a stark contrast from the blocky, more cement buildings around it, dark wood built into a shape that reminded Doppo vaguely of a doll box, only with a roof. As to be expected, there was a line out this door too, although one that was much, much longer than any he’d seen before. He blanched, staring. Quite a lot of the people in line were cutesy young women in gaggles. He supposed this was exactly the sort of place Ramuda would pick. He shuffled up to the front of the line and to the hostess, looking deeply uncomfortable. With dark hair done up in a pony tail and her make up tastefully done, the hostess both matched the building and contrasted the clientele. She took down names cheerfully but in an efficient manner, not noticing him yet. 

“U-Um... excuse me...” He felt really stupid even coming to talk to her. He was so out of place, and a bother. This was a bad idea. The hostess looked up quickly in surprise. “I... Um...” Doppo hardly blamed her shock. He was a sad-looking mess, and nearly thirty. He had no place being here. 

The startled expression did only last a moment, however, and instead of simply settling back into her professional smile, she grinned, pointedly giving him a quick up and down. “You’re Docchi, aren’t you?” She asked, perhaps even a touch more cheerfully than before. Doppo stammered an affirmative in surprise as she nodded along. “Ramuda said you’d be coming! I can have Mirimi lead you to your table right away.” 

Wait. She knew who he was? And to expect him? Of course, Ramuda probably put his name down so he could join him, but... what gave it away, exactly? “Um... thanks... But... how did you...?” 

The hostess smiled. “He said to look out for a sad guy in a sad suit.” Ouch. But she was right. “Besides---” She blushed a touch, and looked to the line before turning back to speak in quieter tones. “Don’t tell Ramuda, but...” She lifted her hand and pinched her middle and ring finger to her thumb, index and pinky pointing up. The Mantenrou wolf. “I’m a pretty big fan of Mantenrou. I could’ve picked you out anyway. Not that I don’t like Fling Posse and all.” 

Doppo wasn’t exactly sure what he was hearing. From what he’d heard, he was basically a nobody, even while in his group. Everyone knew about glamorous Hifumi and refined Jakurai, but he always heard ‘and who’s that last guy?’. This woman, though, was saying something rather different. He... really didn’t have time to unpack that, or consider the possibility that he had fans out there. Somewhere. Who would be a fan of him? He was snapped out of his daze by her continuing to talk. “Well! Have a good lunch, M.C. DOPPO. And maybe sign something for me?” She smiled and made a gesture inside. Another hostess, this one dressed a little more like a lolita maid, came to guide him. He looked at her dumbly, before looking back to the hostess. 

“What’s your name?” He blurted, looking much more surprised by the sudden words than either of the women. He blushed in embarrassment, and quickly backpedaled. “I-I mean if you really want an autograph! But you’re probably just kidding and-- sorry. Sorry. I’ll just--let you get back to...” 

The hostess shook her head, waving a hand to stop him. “It’s fine. It’s Akiko Takizawa. It’s nice to meet you in person, instead of in a crowd.” 

Doppo stopped his incoherent apologies to blink a couple times, then nod, giving her a bow. “Thank you for coming to our shows. Um... Kannonzaka Doppo. It’s nice to meet you too.” Without real thought, he dug in a pocket to offer her a business card. This was met with an awkward pause, while he realized that... oh, the card didn’t apply anymore. To try to break the tension he felt, he went to his bag, got a pen, and signed the back before giving it to her with two hands, bowing again. “Please keep being our fan!” With that, he rushed off into the cafe before he could embarrass himself further. The other hostess, Mirimi, looked to Akiko and shrugged, before following him to show him to his table.

Chapter Text

If the exterior of the cafe had been simple and elegant, the interior was anything but. It was as if it were a candy box, sectioned off into different sweets. Different seating areas were designed to give the impression of different desserts; pink tables and strawberry wallpaper in one corner, chairs patterned off of chocolate bars in the next. There was something about it that made it feel very unlike a cafe, too much care put into the atmosphere and the doll-like air of lolita style, and too little of the comforting smell of coffee and baked goods in the air. Then again, quite a few people were taking selfies, so perhaps that was the point. 

Ah. Doppo felt even more out of place than before. He had to wonder if it was a malicious choice, choosing somewhere that would make him so uncomfortable-- but thinking about it, it really was a place he could see Ramuda being, all candy-colored himself.

The hostess, Mirimi, didn’t attempt to chat him up like her friend did. Although she was dressed cute, and her face was cute, her pleasantness seemed more forced and polite. Doppo understood the necessity of a customer service face well and kept pace so that she could get him seated and continue her day. After weaving through sections of Victorian black-tea tables and bubblegum booths, she stopped at an alcove done up in cherry blossom hearts. Tucked against a wall and focused on his phone was Ramuda, dressed decidedly much nicer than Doppo could ever manage. 

Ramuda was wearing a suit for once, blazer barely buttoned and shirt only tucked in the front. As to be expected, his clothes were expensive looking, a soft navy set patterned with pink and yellow flowers, the shirt a light sky blue. To Doppo’s amazement, Ramuda’s lack of neatness did not detract from the fact he looked more fashionable and formal than Doppo felt. The feeling of wanting to flee intensified. 

“Here’s your guest, Ramuda!” Mirimi chimed, gesturing to Doppo. “I’ll bring your sunshine summer afternoon tea sets as you get settled in. Please enjoy your meeting!” 

Ramuda looked up from his phone. While his expression before had been focused, lip jutting out into a small pout, he brightened up right away and set it to the side. “Thank you, Ms. Mirimi~!” Any hope for escape fled Doppo’s body as Ramuda set his sights on him. Once again a cat facing down a mouse. “Hey there! I was wondering if you’d show up!” Ramuda sat up straight, leaning his elbows on the table. His petite and slender fingers folded together to let him rest his chin on them. 

Doppo bowed quickly, already feeling panic bubble up. “I’m sorry, I should have been earlier. You must have been waiting!” Red colored his cheeks as he heard giggling. Was he not supposed to apologize? He always needed to apologize. 

“Docchi, sit down! You’re not late or anything.” Even though his head was still bowed, he could feel Ramuda looking at him, appraising him. He was quick to obey, too uncomfortable to do much else. He looked up to see Ramuda’s expression having the cat-like smugness that he’d come to expect. 

“Um--” Doppo started to speak, but Ramuda interrupted. Why did everyone always interrupt him? It was starting to grate on his already thin nerves.

“You’re like a dog, huh. No wonder you let people push you around.” Doppo flinched at that. He was starting to find that Ramuda said the most cutting, but accurate things. This was going to be a rough interview. 

“I say sit, and you sit. I wonder if you’d bark if I told you to.” Ramuda giggled, canting his head to the side in a way that may have been cute, if he weren’t being mean. 

Doppo frowned, taking a deep breath to try and calm his nerves and his irritation. He definitely wasn’t going to bark, but he didn’t know what to say, either. He needed this to go well. 

“Whatever! A little bit of a weak spine’s good for the position, you know?” Ramuda dug in a bag he’d stored under a table, out of sight. Doppo could only imagine what it could look like. It was probably made of leather. Brand name. Maybe one of those pastel fashion colors. With a little ‘ah’ of finding, Ramuda popped back up, putting a folder on the table. As opposed to the manilla or ugly muted colors of the folders Doppo was used to, it was a nice, stiff black plastic. Reality began to sink in that, maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a joke, and where was something at the end of the tunnel of employment. What it was, he didn’t know. It could be an even worse, miserable hell job. 

Ramuda flipped open the folder, showing what looked to be professionally drawn up papers. Doppo’s mouth hung open a bit. Ramuda caught on. 

“I run my own fashion brand, you know. I can do the business stuff.” He pouted, tapping pointedly on the file folder. “It’s a lot of work! I’m cute, not a dummy.” Doppo backpedaled. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think that or anything! I just--” 

“You just?” Interrupted again. Doppo cleared his throat. What did he say? That he’d thought he was being messed with? That he was shocked by professionalism? He settled on: 

“...I expected glitter. And... cute stickers? I guess.” Wow, that sounded lame, but it was the truth. Ramuda laughed. 

“I’ve got pink highlighters? But I don’t think legal paperwork can, like. Be on cute stationary? I dunno. I’m playing it safe.” Ramuda shrugged, tugging two packets out of the folder pocket. He kept one in front of him, and pushed the other toward Doppo. It was immediately recognizable as a formal job description. Doppo blinked, flipping up one of the pages to look at the underside. On first glance he could see text and tables galore.

“I’ve outlined everything that you need to know for the personal assistant position! Hours, pay, benefits, job duties, whatever! Well-- I’m pretty sure it’s got everything. I got one of my business friends to look at over!” Doppo couldn’t conceive of what he meant by business friend, so he assumed it was someone he worked with, or a legal consultant. Whoever it was did a good job. He’d seen a lot of employment paperwork over the years, and it did seem sufficiently detailed, down to how much vacation time he got and how and when to request it. (On the assumption he would, he idly noted.) 

“So... you can read that over, and maybe we can go over questions or something? We should probably go over what the job is and stuff too, huh.” 

Doppo could only nod along, reading it closely, looking for any sign that this wasn’t as legitimate as it looked. Nothing so far. Wow, he was definitely being offered more pay than his previous job. The only area that did seem vague was the actual job duties section. ‘Making appointments’, ‘running errands’, ‘managing financials’... Although there were a lot of words, it seemed to boil down to: do whatever Ramuda wanted. 

He was half way through scrutinizing what he was being asked to do when a tower of sweets was set between them, along with two delicate tea cups and a pot of tea. “Sorry for the wait!” Mirimi chimed, despite the fact it couldn’t have been more than five or six minutes. “Your Sunshine Summer Set! The top has lemon gelato and lavender earl grey macarons with our house scones. The second tier are petit fours-- lemon poppy seed, mango passionfruit, watermelon mint, and matcha, and rose jellies. For the savory portion, chicken salad and cucumber finger sandwiches with cured salmon bites. The tea is a light summer rose darjeeling. I hope you enjoy!” She gave a short curtsey and left them. 

Ramuda was quick to chime a “thank you for the meal” and help himself to a macaron while fixing his tea. Doppo sighed softly and went back to reading. Of course Ramuda would get peckish-- why else meet in a cafe? Doppo should have ordered too... though this place seemed pretty high-priced. 

They sat in silence for a couple awkward minutes while Doppo tried to find any portion that actually detailed what Ramuda expected him to do while ‘assisting’. Ramuda cleared his throat in an “ahem”. Doppo looked up to him fixing him with a disappointed frown. Immediately Doppo froze in shock. He hadn’t done anything yet! “U-Um...? Yes? What...?” 

“Don't like sweets?” 

“...Huh?” Doppo blinked a few times, like a deer in the headlights. Where did this question come from...? 

“I like sweets...?” As much as any person did. He’d get chocolate on rough days, or enjoy snacks that Hifumi brought home from work. He didn’t seek them out, but he didn’t dislike them. 

“Then why aren’t you trying any of these? They’re sooooo good!” Ramuda waved a hand up and down to indicate the tower of food. Doppo was completely lost. Had Ramuda gotten it for the both of them? 

“I didn’t think...” 

“Huuuuh? You didn’t think?” Doppo flushed again, feeling a tenseness in his chest. Couldn’t he get a full sentence out? 

“I didn’t think it was for me.” The flush of embarrassment deepened as Ramuda laughed at him. Again. 

“Duh. I mean, I can eat all of this, but--” 

This time, Doppo was the one to interrupt, teeth gritting together. “It’s not like you said anything!” He snapped. 

He immediately shrunk back, feeling shame sink into his bones, cold and hollow. Just when he’d needed patience, his anger had crept up hot and ready. He’d done this at his old job, and now.. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-- I should go.” Doppo picked up his bag, sliding toward the edge of the table. 

“Aww, doggy snaps. Come back, Docchi!” Ramuda reached across the table and caught his sleeve, tugging it. It wasn’t a particularly strong pull, but Doppo followed it anyway, watching Ramuda’s face with wide eyes. It felt as if he’d spent the whole week in a state of dream-like... nightmare-like haziness, and this felt no different. 

“That was my bad! Try some! Help yourself!.” He pushed the tower a little closer to Doppo, careful of the tea and snacks. Doppo sat and stared, wondering if this wasn’t the portion of the interview that was a trap. He craned his head around to look at Ramuda, watching his expression for any malicious deviousness. Instead, Ramuda looked expectant, the same saccharine smile on his face. Bad under pressure as always, Doppo reached for the closest item-- the cured salmon on a cracker-- and mumbled a thanks before eating it. Unsurprisingly, it was good, salty and savory with a hint of lemony sourness. He glanced around again. Seeing no rebuke, he reached for one of the sweets, nibbling on it shyly. Ramuda must have been satisfied with this, because he changed the subject. 

“Soooo, you have any questions, yet? You’ve been super quiet.” 

Doppo swallowed his bite of sweet cake, feeling a touch of loss at the fact he didn’t get to savor it for a second more. “Um... I guess... I’m wondering what I’d be expected to do in this job? A personal assistant can be a lot of things... and there’s a lot of things listed here.” 

Ramuda nodded cheerfully, humming as if he were thinking. He flipped open his copy of the packet to look at the same page.  He glanced over the wall of text and kept nodding. “Yep! Those are all things you’ll probably do!” 

Doppo was careful to put the rest of the cake down on his plate before doing any wild hand motions of panic. It had to be a full page of tasks-- only some of them he had any confidence in his ability to do. 

“That’s too much! I can’t do all of that--” 

“Eeeh?” Ramuda looked over the list, tilting his head to the side. “Why not? You can totally learn how to do half of this stuff on the internet.” 

“There’s not enough time in the day!” And Doppo had thought he’d been overworked before! This would actually kill him-- especially if he was expected to do it in an eight hour work day. 

Ramuda gave him a surprised look, watched him, then started giggling again. Doppo’s heart sank. So he was planning to work him to death... that figured. Doppo couldn’t catch any sort of break. 

“Docchi, you’re funny. You’re not gonna do all of this every day! I don’t think I even...” Ramuda leaned down to look closer at the list of tasks. “I don’t have meetings with brand executives every day. And I deeeeefinitely don’t need you to do model payroll every day.” He giggled again, pushing the packet to the side. “These are examples! The everyday stuff will be like... taking messages and responding to email. Running errands, getting coffee-- those sorts of things!” 

Oh. Now Doppo felt stupid. He felt stupid all of the time, but this was embarrassing. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known. It’s obvious...” The apology tumbled from his lips, a habit that he couldn’t make himself stop doing. Ramuda rolled his eyes, ignoring his self-degradation completely. 

“Okay, so now that we’re on the same page~” Ramuda pushed the tea tower out of the way so he could look directly at Doppo’s face. “You in? Everything look good? 'Cause you can start tomorrow.” 

Doppo’s gaze, which had drifted to the table in his groveling, shot up. Ramuda hadn’t asked for anything! References-- well he supposed he had Jakurai, but no one at his previous company would give him one. Resume-- that was outdated, and the skills on it didn’t apply to the job! He didn’t ask basic questions about his experience, or... 

Ramuda’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What’s that look for? Are you backing out?” 

Doppo shook his head rapidly. “No-- I mean-- you’re offering me the job?”

The grimace on Ramuda’s face sent Doppo right back to feeling like the stupidest man on Earth. 

“Duh? I offered it to you a week ago.” Now that Doppo thought about it, he had. And he’d been talking like Doppo had the job the entire time-- stupid, stupid-- Doppo looked down again, this time at the packet. It... did look like the stuff that went with employment paperwork. It probably was there, ready to go. 

“I’m sorry-- I-- I’m sorry.” He was a skipping, broken record. Ramuda had to be rethinking even talking to him, let alone offering him a job! His eyes began to get hot and sting. No, he wasn’t going to show this kind of weakness, especially in front of an enemy. He would just gather his things and leave with dignity. 

A paper and pen were slid under his down-tilted face, right on top of the employment packet. Doppo blinked rapidly to clear his vision of tears. A formal acceptance paper? 

“If you want the job, sign the paper. There’s a ton of time for apologizing later.” Ramuda leaned toward him, grinning. “‘Cause, I don’t like doing it. You’ve gotta do it for me. You can do that, right?” 

If there was one thing that Doppo could do in his sleep, it was apologize. At the end of the day, he all he was good at saying sorry for his actions, for his words, for his existence. What was one more thing to apologize for? What did he have to lose, really. 

Doppo swallowed thickly, looked up at Ramuda, then back at the contract. With a silent nod, he picked up the pen and scratched the characters of his name on the line, filling out the blanks with a quick efficiency that came from years of paper-pushing and a lot of desperation. 

Ramuda sat and watched, munching on one of the macarons. Occasionally he pointed to a section for Doppo to pay attention to, but for the most part, he was quiet. 

The whole form filled out, Doppo ruffled through his bag until he found the little black cylinder of his hanko , the object looking all the world like a tube of lipstick despite its importance. He gave it a brief look before tugging off the cap and hovering the tip over the signature line. If he did this, it would be official. He would be working for Amemura Ramuda, as his personal bitch. He would be throwing away all he’d worked for at his previous job, all of that suffering. He’d be casting himself into the unknown and-- 

Doppo’s hand was batted down, the stamp imprinting his inkan signature onto the page in red. Ramuda had his hand firmly on top of Doppo’s, cat with canary look back in full force. 

“There we go! All done!” 

Doppo sputtered, words all trying to come at once. “What? No, you can’t-- wait, why, wha--” 

“You were hesitating too much, Docchi. You seem like the kinda person who always does!” Ramuda drew his hand back to go for a finger sandwich. “So I made the choice for you!” 

“You can’t DO that!” Doppo protested, flushing in anger. “That’s illegal, and how do you know--” 

“Areeee you saying you don’t wanna do it? We can tear that up.” 

Doppo couldn’t help but verbally recoil. “No! That’s not-- I’m not-- No!” 

“No what?” Ramuda finished off the sandwich and continued to his tea, totally unbothered by the scene Doppo was making. 

“No-- I want this job!” 

Ramuda put his tea back down with a little clink of porcelain. “Great! See you at my studio tomorrow at nine, then! Bring your bank book.” He took the papers from the table and put them back in his bag, moving to stand, even as he talked. “And like. Every piece of clothing you own. There’s gotta be something in there that isn’t a total disaster.” 

Doppo gaped. Every piece? Granted, his wardrobe wasn’t as big as Hifumi’s but-- 

“Or as much as you can carry in your noodle arms! Is that old thing really the phone you use?” 

Doppo looked to his flip phone. What was wrong with it? Sure, it was a little outdated, but it worked... 

“We’re gonna have to get you a smartphone. Woooow, I’ve got a ton of work ahead of me as your boss! You better be grateful!” Ramuda slung his bag over his shoulder and straightened out his suit. “I already paid, so go ahead and finish all that off and take your time, kay? Relax a little! Big day tomorrow.” 

Wait, what? Ramuda was leaving? Wasn’t there a handshake or something, at least? Or some more going over job-related-- 

“Bye bye, now~” 

Aaaaand he was gone. Doppo sat at the booth all alone with a half-finished tea tower and a still full pot of rose darjeeling, having the same question as the past few days: ‘What just happened?’

....Knowing he’d get no answer, he poured himself a cup of tea and picked up a sandwich. No use letting this go to waste-- he had a feeling he would need all the energy he could get.

Chapter Text

Doppo, for the life of him, couldn't figure out when he’d gotten so many clothes. He stared at the mountain on his bed: slacks and button ups, suit jackets and sweaters, scarves and coats and socks-- he felt dwarfed by the enormity of his wardrobe. Before now, he’d always considered himself spartan in his personal belongings. He spent his paychecks mostly on bills and the houseplants on the cill. Even when he splurged, it was on a new blanket, or on a treat for Hifumi. So when had he gotten all of this?!

He sighed, already feeling the weight of defeat. At least it couldn’t be as big as Hifumi’s collection. Outside of his work clothing, it felt like the host had a different outfit every day, ranging in styles and colors. If Hifumi’s clothes were piled up like Doppos currently were, they would surely spill out of his room into the hall. How did he even put all of them away? Magic drawers? How did he find things he was looking for? Doppo approached the clothing mountain and picked up a t-shirt. Light blue and decorated with three monkeys-- a souvenir from Nikko?-- it wasn’t his style at all. In fact, it still had a tag on it, never worn. 

Ugh. Someone had wasted money, and he hadn’t even had the decency to wear it once. How much of the pile was just unworn waste? He didn’t want to dig through and find out, but Ramuda had made it very clear: he had to bring all of his clothes. He’d even texted that morning to remind him. Surely he didn’t mean everything, though! It was for work, so maybe he meant his work wardrobe. No, no, he’d said all of them. But he couldn’t mean even loungewear, right? 

Doppo looked at the pile, then the suitcase on the floor. Then the pile. It was the only thing large enough to carry a wardrobe, but there was no way all of that could fit in.

But... Ramuda had said all. He wasn’t about to mess up his first day. It would just have to fit. He knelt beside the suitcase, once again looking at its dimensions. It was a rather large bag-- Hifumi had bought it for an Okinawa vacation, anticipating bringing back souvenirs for everyone he knew. It expanded too, made for overfilling. 

It never had been filled to the brim like Hifumi had dreamed. It had been early on in their careers, and Doppo’s boss had forced them to cancel due to a big project. Hifumi had brushed it off and said he was busy too, but Doppo remembered the disappointment in his eyes. He was always doing that, letting Hifumi down. He could just imagine the look on his face if he knew what Doppo was doing that day-- what risks he was taking for work. Again. 

Hifumi was asleep though. A long night of drinking and partying with paying women had wiped him off his feet. If Doppo was quiet enough, he would be able to sneak out with his oversized luggage and be on his way.  That was, if he could even get everything in this stupid green eyesore of a suitcase. 

With one last, long look at the bag, he stood back up and went to the pile. There was a lot of folding to be done, and no Hifumi to do it for him. He grabbed a sweater and began. 

------

Doppo had no clue how he’d done it, but the suitcase was full and zipped. Sure, he’d had to sit on it, and there was still a huge pile of socks and underwear on the bed, but he’d done it. All he would have to do is carry a suit bag or two along with the suitcase, cram himself on the Yamanote, and-- Oh boy. This was going to be a hassle. At least he could wear one outfit there; a choice he’d spent a long time making. Ultimately, he chose a newer work suit over any of his casual clothing, starchy, but clean and presentable. It was a job, after all, and if Ramuda didn’t like it, he could change. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have every stitch of clothing he owned right at hand. 

Still, the prospect of the Yamanote line, then Harajuku’s streets was a terrifying one. After much hemming and hawing and checking his bank statements, he hailed a taxi, quietly wincing at the calm but judgmental look of the driver and the quickly rising fee. It wasn’t a long ride from Shinjuku to Shibuya, but it was Tokyo, and he could feel his wallet getting lighter by the moment. 

He couldn’t dispute that it was a lot easier than the trains, though. The suitcase was surprisingly heavy and was awkward to pull with his arms already full of suit and messenger bag. The taxi driver had to help him get the suitcase to the door, and even with the assistance, Doppo ended up shuffling to the studio door in the most ungainly way. He couldn’t even knock, awkwardly standing in front before rapping the side of his head on the door to make some kind of noise. After a couple of somewhat painful headbutts and a difficult shifting of his bags in his arms, he managed to get an arm free, only to have the door open just as his hand was finally poised to knock. 

“Woooow! You really commit a hundred percent, don’t you, Docchi?” 

With the bags piled up in his arms, he couldn’t even see Ramuda’s face in the doorway. At best, he could see his feet-- in teal runners-- and the top of his pink head. Doppo cleared his throat and nodded, a motion likely unseen behind the bags. 

“You said all of my clothes... so... I’m sorry, this is too much, isn’t it? I should’ve known you didn’t actually mean all of them.” He would have attempted to bow, but that would have sent things toppling. 

“Naaah. It’s good! Gotta see what we’re working with!” Doppo felt more than saw a hand pull at his waist, tugging him inside. He nearly tripped over the ridge of the doorway, but recovered, shuffling forward. 

“You can just toss it on the table over here. You want some coffee or something? I take mine with cream and a toooon of sugar, so you’ll probably wanna remember that.” 

Doppo would try to remember that (although it seemed common sense, considering Ramuda’s tastes). More pressing than remembering a coffee order, though, was putting down his bags on the table, which was long and metal; for drafting, maybe? Even his suits didn’t take up a whole lot of room on it. Regardless, his arms were happy for the break. 

The studio wasn’t what Doppo expected, not that he’d really been expecting anything in particular. Instead of cutesy like the café, it held a modern feel with dark surfaces and walls. The color came mostly from neon signs and posters, and from the clothes themselves, hung up on racks along the walls. It somehow gave him the impression of a runway, highlighting what was supposed to be seen and darkening everything else. Case in point, the mannequin he almost directly ran into with a high pitched scream. 

Ramuda laughed at that, very clearly at Doppo’s expense. He had followed through on coffee though, bringing out two mugs and some fixings. Doppo didn’t bother with sugar or creamer, muttering his thanks before sipping on the searing hot coffee. It burned, but he needed the caffeine. For a moment, he caught Ramuda frowning, brow furrowed in a strange way. Then it was gone. Had he done something wrong? 

“Okay~! Let’s see what we’ve got here....” Ramuda looked Doppo up and down, expression pinched in a cute mockery of focus. Doppo still felt like he was being stripped down and judged like a piece of meat. He hadn’t even asked-- why did Ramuda want his whole wardrobe here? Sure, Doppo wasn’t the sort to ask too many questions out of fear of reprimand, but it seemed sort of weird, regardless of Ramuda’s profession. Doppo straightened up, tense, as Ramuda approached, feeling the fabric of his suit, tugging his lapels, straightening his tie. Ramuda stepped back, then shook his head. 

“Nope! That’s not gonna work! No polyester in my studio!” He unceremoniously tugged the suit jacket off of Doppo’s shoulders and tossed it into the corner. Doppo gaped. 

“What else you got?” Ramuda strolled over to the suit bags and suitcase, unzipping things and pulling at fabric. Doppo could only stare in horror as one after another, pieces of his clothing got raspberries and scathing comments. Sure, he didn’t really have a deep connection to most of the button-ups and slacks that were being thrown around, but they were HIS things! 

“H-hey-- cut that out--” Doppo picked up a shirt and tried to flatten the wrinkles. There wasn’t anything special about it, but it made him uncomfortable to have it treated in such a way. “What are you doing, anyway?” 

“Huh?” Ramuda looked over his shoulder, his hands all over a soft grey sweater, which, to Doppo’s surprise, he folded carefully and put to the side. “Uh, duh. Seeing what kinda clothes you’ve got! I’m not going to have a drab assistant! I’ve got to look good!” 

What was this, a fashion reality TV show? Usually bosses just told you if you weren’t dressed properly-- not go through your wardrobe! 

“Bu-but...” Another shirt went flying and Doppo barely caught it. What was wrong with this one? It was a nice soft blue-- though he guessed the fabric was a little plasticy. Ramuda ignored his protests, as he always seemed to, tossing clothing and folding others. By the end, Doppo had his arms full of fabric he’d snatched from the air, and Ramuda had two neat, but very small piles on his table. Ramuda spun around on his heel, head tilting to the side.

 “Put those down! Those are the ‘no good’ clothes!” He held his arms up in an ‘x’ formation. 

“No... good?” Doppo looked at the pants closest to his face. They seemed fine to him. Maybe a little worn and cheap, but they were just pants. He put the pile down and held up the offending slacks.

“No good!” Ramuda approached, taking the slacks and holding them up as well. “See how they’re a little shiny? They’re polyester, like that gross jacket you were wearing!” Gross? Doppo had just gotten the suit last year! How could it be gross? 

“Polyester wrinkles like crazy! And it’s not super sturdy, so it wears out easier.” Ramuda flipped the pants inside out. “See? The seams are starting to pull apart a bit. Besides! Synthetic fibers are suuuuper hot! You’re gonna sweat like a pig once the summer gets summer-y!” The pants went flying again, balled up and tossed like a basketball into the corner pile. 

“Oh.” Doppo didn’t know that. He’d just gone for what was on sale and what looked good enough. It sounded like he was just making things harder for himself in the long run, though... 

“So we’re gonna toss those out!” Wait what? No! Those were his clothes! Doppo opened his mouth to protest, but Ramuda just kept going. “This is the ‘totes’ pile.” He walked back over to the table and patted a folded group of clothes. “This is the stuff that could totally look good if we style it right! And this...” He patted a second folded pile. “Is the ‘I’ve gotta see it on’ pile! Like, they’ve got potential? But some of them are kinda worn out, or I dunno how they’ll fit, or if the color’s good on you?” Doppo swallowed and nodded along, still a bit stuck on the ‘tossing out’ concept. It really was hard to get a word in edgewise when you were being steamrollered. 

“So I’m gonna have you try all these on! Strip.” Okay, now things were getting too far! Doppo waved a hand in quick denial. 

“I’m not going to get naked in front of you!” Doppo was starting to think this was an elaborate prank. It certainly felt like that. Ramuda giggled. 

“Pff. No, silly. I’ve got a changing room.” He gestured to a curtained off area, picking up the ‘I’ve gotta see it on’ pile and dropping it into Doppo’s arms. He circled around, then started to push on Doppo’s back to get him moving. “Put them on like you’d wear them normally, then show me, kay? Not all at the same time, but like. You know how those movie fashion montages work, right? Like that!” Did he mean those makeover scenes in chick-flicks? No way, he wasn’t going to-- 

And he was in the changing room, the curtain sharply pulled to give him privacy. Okay, he was going to do this. He put down the pile and awkwardly undressed, noting that, huh. Ramuda was right, the suit he was in was already wrinkled from just wearing it. He shook his head a touch, placing it gently to the side. Cheap material or not, it was his suit, he had to give it a little respect for the work it had done for him, right? It deserved some modicum of care. 

He turned toward the pile, picking through what Ramuda had chosen. He’d expected him to choose what bright clothing he owned: the gag gifts and well-meant but drastically off birthday presents. Instead, it was a small collection of his most worn clothes, the ones he’d worn to softness and fraying, the things he’d gotten from Hifumi, the things he’d picked out for himself when he felt confident enough. He picked up a pair of dark-wash jeans and an oversized, gray sweater and pulled them on. It was maybe a bit too warm for the day, but it was an outfit he’d worn out on multiple occasions, and had never felt that self conscious in. Sure, jeans were a bit childish, he was almost thirty, but they looked nice and fit. Hesitantly, he peeked out. 

“Like this?” Doppo stepped out, awkwardly spinning around when Ramuda spun a finger insistently. Ramuda hummed in thought, then nodded. 

“Okay, change into another one and give me that one, okay?” Doppo blinked, but nodded, shuffling into the changing room to repeat the process. For the most part, it was the same; Ramuda nodding and taking it, or looking dubious, then having him try something on as a part of another outfit. A couple of things were tossed in the corner pile, but for the most part, the clothes Ramuda took were placed back on the table next to the rest of Doppo’s now meager wardrobe. He barely had any pants left, and the button-ups were all gone but one. Not surprisingly, none of his souvenir shirts made it. What did make it, however, was his oldest navy-blue suit jacket. Rumpled with age and starting to get some lining damage, it was neatly placed by itself on top of the matching pants. He remembered his parents buying that for him, the wool soft and warm. It was the only wool suit he owned, and was the staple for rough days. (And for rap competitions, although that often was an awful idea, if Hifumi’s need to stitch it up every couple months said anything.)

Not wanting Ramuda to notice and toss it out, he kept quiet, turning his focus more onto his lack of clothing options. “Are... are you really going to throw out all that?” He gestured to the large clothes pile in the corner, shaking a bit in trepidation. 

“Yep!” Ramuda chirped, nodding a few times. “It’s all cheap stuff. It doesn’t look good on anybody, and it’s gonna wear out real quick anyway!” 

“Then what am I supposed to wear?!” Doppo threw his hands into the air, then quieted immediately. Thankfully, Ramuda didn’t seem phased by his outburst.

“New clothes, duh! Take off your pants and shirt and stand over there, kayyy~?” Wait, now Doppo WAS supposed to strip in front of Ramuda?!

“No!” 

“Yes! I’m gonna take your measurements, don’t be weird about this.” Ramuda pouted and turned to rifle in a box full of fabric scraps and thread. Doppo swallowed thickly, a touch frozen in place. Ramuda kept looking over at him with a meaningful look. Doppo stripped to his boxers and inched over to where Ramuda was gesturing with a tape measure. The studio floor, being concrete, was freezing. A cruel new form of torture. 

Ramuda bossed him around a bit more, making him turn and raise and lower his arms. The tape went around his torso, up his leg, around his head, across his chest. The little fashion designer wasted no time in getting his every measurement from shoe to hat size. Without clarifying, he wandered off with his notes, leaving Doppo in front of a mirror, half naked, and nervously watching the windows to make sure no one was looking in. 

It felt like an eternity, but was likely only five or so minutes, before Ramuda returned, arms full of clothes. It was like a rainbow had thrown up on laundry, there were so many colors. Ramuda put them on a chair and picked up a few pieces. 

“Put these on!” Doppo blinked slowly, taking the eye-searing pink and bright green outfit. No. No way. But Ramuda was waiting, and he felt too nervous to protest. He put it on. Ramuda tilted his head, expression thoughtful, then picked up some pink hair pins with bows. 

“Wait a second--!” Nope, Ramuda was already reaching up, tugging him down by his hair to tuck them in. “Stop that!” Again, no. Ramuda fussed some more and took a picture with his phone. He smiled, typed some things in, then put it away. 

“You look silly. Next!” Wait, he looked silly?! No shit! What was Ramuda thinking-- oh. He knew exactly what he was thinking. Doppo was being made fun of. Still, he ended up in several more brightly colored, definitely decora -themed outfits, bedecked in various, childlike, plastic accessories. Ramuda always took pictures. Doppo could only imagine that he was sending them to that no-good gambler of a teammate he had, laughing at how he looked. 

“Okay, next time, we’re doing makeup to go with it, but some filters’ll soften those eye bags.” Next time? What was the point of it-- why were they going to do it again!?

“I’m not going to-- That’s not--!” Doppo tugged the clips from his hair, putting them back into the chair pile. They felt strange, all tangled up in there. 

“Don’t worry! It’s not blackmail. You’ll see! It’s part of the job!” Part of the job!? What part?! Ramuda continued on. 

“Okay, now for the serious picks.” Ramuda handed him two outfits. These ones were... brighter than he usually would have tried, but they weren’t the same garish prints or neon dyes. In fact, the first had a soft, sky blue button up, much like the shirt he’d caught earlier. Sure, it did have a little daisy embroidered on the pocket, but it wasn’t outlandish... and the fabric was very soft to the touch. The accompanying pants were white and straight-legged. Less soft, but not plastic-feeling either. Just a touch new. He tried them on and couldn’t help but stare in the mirror. Both of the pieces fit him well, not baggy or too tight. It didn’t do much for his scrawny physique, but he had to admit, it did have some effect on his reflection. He couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly. Maybe the shadows on his face were lighter? Things just felt less gloomy. Severe. He nearly jumped when Ramuda came up from behind him. 

“These are from last year’s spring men’s collection.” He explained, his typical cheerfulness less grating and more warm. “I wanted to make sure office guys could look cute too, y’know? Suits can be super boring.” Ramuda reached around to undo the top button, as Doppo had done it up all the way. “And the ones you can get anywhere are usually super boring and cheap. They don’t fit well, and they’re kinda miserable. There isn’t any happiness in them, or expression, anything like that. So I made stuff that would teeeechnecally be okay in an office, but came in cool colors and were comfy.” He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “You’ve got nice teal eyes, so I thought the blue would look good! Besides, you always dress all gloomy, anyway.” 

When Ramuda put it like that, Doppo couldn’t argue. Everyone at his old job had worn the same dark blue or black suit, working so hard they sweat and became rumpled and uncomfortable. What did his coworkers-- ex-coworkers-- wear when they were home? What kind of people were they? Doppo didn’t have a clue. The office had been monochrome. 

Wait. Did Ramuda just compliment his eyes?

“You like it?” Ramuda watched him, and for a second, Doppo could have sworn he looked nervous. It was a trick of the light, of course, but it felt vulnerable. 

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever worn this kinda thing before, but... It’s nice.” Doppo offered an awkward smile. Ramuda lit up, clapping his hands together. 

“Great! Now try the next one.” Doppo felt a little more confident in trying the next outfit. An emerald green sweater over a goldenrod button up, the slacks a dark-grey. It was definitely not any of the eye-searing fashions he’d seen from Empty Candy when Hifumi had forced him to look at fashion catalogues. Honestly, it felt completely off-brand. 

“It’s from the winter collection a few years ago. We can’t just do everything all bright, or we wouldn’t get like, a ton of the customer base.” Ramuda explained. Ah, that made sense. He guessed that most people didn’t want to wear bright colors all the time. Ramuda continued. 

“You’ve got suuuuper pretty red hair too. And red hair goes great with green! The gray pants are neutral and a good cut, and the shirt’s a nice pop of color, riiiight?” Ramuda grinned, definitely pleased with himself. “It matches your partner’s yellow rose thing. You two will look great together!” 

Okay, Ramuda definitely just complimented him for a second time. Doppo felt his cheeks heat up in mortification. “My hair’s not pretty! It’s just a total rat’s nest!” He denied, touching the tips, which were gently bleach-fried from the blue lowlights. He then looked down at the yellow shirt. Well, he would match Hifumi with something like this. “And why would I want to match Hifumi, anyway? He’s all sparkly and--!” 

Ramuda snorted. “Uh. Cause it’s cute? Don’t you know anything?” That explained nothing. Why would it be cute? Why would he want it to be cute? Was it so he matched his team? That didn’t make sense, Ramuda hadn’t mentioned Jakurai at all. 

Then again, he got the feeling that Ramuda avoided talking about Jakurai on principle. 

“U-Uh... right.” Well, he was out of protests. He honestly did like the outfit. Sure it was a bit colorful for his usual style, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable in it. In fact he looked... well, he wouldn’t say good, but better “It’s... nice.” 

“Cool! Because it’s yours!” Ramuda picked up the light blue and white outfit and put it on the table ‘totes’ pile with a grin. 

“Mine?!” Doppo gaped. Ramuda was just giving him this? Wait, no. He would probably have to pay for this out of his paycheck-- 

“Yep! That’ll be 35,000 yen!” Ramuda held out a hand, smiling innocently. Doppo could only continue his staring.

“I don’t have that! You can’t just make me buy your clothes--!” Doppo protested suddenly feeling a touch faint. 35,000 yen-- that would make things at least 7,000 yen a piece! He’d never spent that much on clothes in his life!

Ramuda giggled. “To quote my sweet Gentaro, that’s a lie. I’m just teasing! They’re yours. For freesies!” 

Well, that was even more shocking. Ramuda’s fashion line wasn’t exactly cheap. He wouldn’t be surprised if the clothes he was being gifted actually did cost 35,000 yen. 

“I can’t just take these! They’re too expensive! And I-- and I--” Doppo flinched as Ramuda blew a raspberry at him. 

“Boo. Yes you can. They’re my clothes! Besides, they’re old collections! Left overs and stuff. It’s an investment in you looking good! Speaking ooooof~” Ramuda sashayed past Doppo, whose gaping just turned to wary confusion. He put a hand on the pile of ‘totes’ clothes, which hadn’t grown much bigger with the addition of a single outfit. “It’s time for your first assignment as my personal assistant!” 

Assignment!? “We haven’t even done paperwork yet!” There was payroll and non disclosure and non compete and those sorts of legally binding things to get out of the way, right?!

“That can be laaaaater. We’ve got all day! Right now, I need you to do something super important!” Ramuda went back to digging in things, pulling out a pink backpack and digging within it. What could be so important it needed doing right now? And could be entrusted to Doppo, first thing? Ramuda stepped up to him, a touch too close, and gently hit his chest with a small object. Doppo looked down. 

Wait, was that a wallet. 

“You’re gonna go shopping!” Doppo’s eyes grew a little, parroting the word softly in disbelief. Shopping? 

“Yep! Take my credit-card and go pick out some new clothes. All your style! I wanna see what you get when you’re not totally restrained by the iron fist of corporate Japan!” A bit on the nose, wasn’t it? “Explore fashion! See what’s trendy! See what you like! I can’t have a personal assistant who knows zero about fashion! No waaaay!” He papped Doppo’s chest with the wallet a few more times. “I mean, if you lose my wallet, I’ll kill you, but like. Go nuts.” 

“I’m not going clothes sh--” There was no way Doppo could handle that responsibility-- hell, that FREEDOM. How was he supposed to know what to buy!? Where to go!? 

“And pick me up a double caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream from Starbucks, okay? Get something for you too. Oh! And send me pics of things you try on, kaaaay?” The wallet was forced into his hand, and he was pushed toward the door. Ramuda could be surprisingly strong when the need arose. 

“Okay?” He barely had time to put his shoes back on before he was shoved outside.

“Be back soon! Be good, be safe! Byeeee!” 

Doppo stared as the door was slammed shut in his face. The wallet in his hands felt heavier than any document stack he'd ever been handed. 

Chapter Text

 Broad daylight be damned, Doppo felt as if he were in constant danger. Shibuya, despite being only as busy and crowded as his own Shinjuku, was a jungle of young people and advertisements, streets winding like unknowable serpents. Shinjuku had its alleys, sure, but Shibuya was a different beast, roads dipping down and under, alleys going diagonal and curved. It was a miracle that he made it out of Harajuku’s backstreets and to the expanse of Omotesando. 

On top of being hopelessly turned around, he had precious cargo. Doppo swallowed, putting a hand firmly on his pocket to secure the wallet inside. If he lost it or it was stolen, he was done for. No job, constant humiliation, and who knew what else. He wouldn’t put it past Ramuda to get that lost money back in some way, and none of those ways were pleasant for Doppo. Images flashed through his mind of the garish outfits he'd been put in that morning, of Fling Posse making one of their own members bark like a dog for a snack. If that was how they treated their own, who know what their enemies could be subjected to.

He sighed, looking down the street that ran to the horizon. Between the broad road separating its sides and the extremely high class stores lining the sidewalks, the Shibuya jungle had its own Amazon River, complete with money devouring crocodiles. 

Doppo looked down to his pocket self-consciously. Ramuda had said to go shopping... but was there a limit? What was reasonable? All he’d said was to be back before three, bring coffee, and... what. Buy new clothes? What kind? How many? How expensive? He chewed his lip, looking around. Michael Kors, Chanel, Vivienne Westwood-- these were things that Hifumi brought home on payday, not something that simple, plain Doppo could wear. Besides, he didn’t know enough about fashion to know if a pair of Gucci loafers were worth their price tag! He just saw the garish logos and the shiny leather. 

It felt like every window was like that: fancy displays and high prices for things he didn’t understand the worth of-- or maybe they were just overpriced? Would Ramuda WANT him to spend money on designer items? They were fashionable, right? But he also said he wanted Doppo to get things his style... whatever that was. Doppo hadn't had time or any inclination to even form a 'style'. Would his style even be in line with the trends? He doubted it-- he was too boring.  

Ugh, he was used to rigid tasks and ways for them to be done. Instead, he had been left adrift on the currents of vague instruction. Also, the tides of shopping crowds, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Doppo was good at keeping his head down and going with the flow, sure, but he didn’t even know where the crowd was moving.  Forward was the only answer he could get, forever pushed by a tense need to be polite, to move out of people’s way and not hold them up. 

Nearly twenty minutes and he hadn’t even stepped in a store. He barely had four hours left, and he kept walking, passing store after store after store. He had to choose, he knew he did, but the pressure of where to go, where to shop-- when he didn’t know what he was doing-- 

Like taking a dive into cold water, Doppo held his breath and ducked into the first store he saw, gasping as he came out the other side. He froze at the threshold, looking around with the eyes of a man nearly drowned. It was-- well, it was high class to be sure. The marble floors and black accents, the warm lighting and well-dressed... everyone; he was absolutely out of his depth. Even with the armor of Ramuda’s undoubtedly perfect fashion choices, it felt like all eyes were on him, the definitely low-class office worker that didn’t have the money to buy anything on this damned street. 

He glanced down to his pocket. Except. He did. And he was supposed to shop. He just had to steel his nerves and--

“Hello! Can I help you today, sir?” 

Doppo’s entire body jolted in shock as a young woman approached him, her dark hair pulled neatly back, her high heels polished to a black shine. It seemed like every store worker in Shibuya had the same, neat style that made Doppo feel like a slob. Not that that was their intention! It was important to look professional, he knew that. He’d always tried to, it’s just he worked so hard-- 

“Sir?” Oh shit. He’d been spiraling again. His ‘bad habit’, as Jakurai called it. Hifumi called it Doppo being a ‘downer’. They meant well, but it always sounded like he was meaning to have his thoughts circle into complete inactivity. He bowed briefly, squeaking out an apology. The clerk looked sympathetic, not annoyed, thankfully. 

“It’s okay. Is this your first time in the store?” Doppo nodded. Of course it was! As if he deserved to be in such a nice place in such an expensive area-- right, right. No spiraling. He had work to do. 

“Well, welcome! Are you looking for anything in particular? Something for yourself? A gift?” 

Doppo felt his shoulders relax, just a bit. She was making things so easy. A couple of options, yes or no questions... “Um... I’m supposed to get something for myself. Something... my style? Or-- maybe something popular...” 

The clerk canted her head to the side. Maybe that was a weird answer. 

“Those could be really different. Do have an idea of what's to your taste?” She gave him a quick look up and down. “You look pretty smart, sir. I would recommend our more business casual section.” Oh thank god, yes, that would work. Doppo couldn’t even begin describing what his style could possibly be, outside of comfortable. Lazy? That just sounded like he was a slob. He nodded again, a touch eagerly, and followed as she lead him back into the men’s section. Beautiful, long coats like Jakurai would wear were neatly hung on racks, rows of soft scarves were folded on shelves. She stopped in front of a rack of collared shirts, definitely a safe bet, from what he was wearing. 

“These are our men’s dress shirts.” She explained with a smile. “Our most popular are the tartan prints, but the navy would be nice as well.” She took a few off the rack to show him. The tartans were appealing, and the navy was a nice color. But they were just shirts. They looked like something he could have found second-hand or at the Aeon department store. 

“Is there anything more... unique?” Ramuda didn’t seem the type to value basics, and if he was going to be spreading his money, he probably should be looking for something that the designer would like. 

The clerk hummed in thought and picked out a couple of other shirts. “These ones have our brand name on them, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or...”  The brand name looked familiar, but it was garish, featured so prominently, like a billboard. She pulled out a couple more, showing him. “This one has a patch that’s rather stylish.” It didn’t seem particularly stylish to him. The deer on the patch looked angry, and the embroidery was sort of awkward. He squinted at it and politely shook his head. “And this one is very unique, I think!” She wasn’t wrong about THAT one. It was printed with two unicorns on either side.  

“Those are a bit...” Doppo rubbed his arm awkwardly. Those definitely didn’t suit his tastes at all-- but she'd delivered on unique to be sure. The clerk hummed in thought. 

“Well, our scarves are what we’re known for. Maybe one of those?” Doppo nodded eagerly. A soft scarf was always welcome in his closet, even if he could only wear it as an accessory until November. 

The scarves he was shown were tame in comparison to the polos they’d looked at. They were mostly a single saturated color or many variations of plaid tartan. Some had bold lettering, sure, but he felt safer looking at these. They were all so soft too-- silk and cashmere and wool... He hesitantly pointed to one of the scarves, a navy and brown check. The colors were nice, comforting, and he was more than sure the fluffy cashmere would keep him cozy. “That one is good, I think... Um.” He felt his chest tighten up.  

“Excellent! I can bring it to the front for you, and we can check out when you’re ready.” The clerk smiled sweetly, gently looping it over her arm. Doppo wasn’t sure he would ever be ready, but he was definitely done shopping. Maybe forever. He nodded meekly, then hesitated. 

“How... how much is it? Just so I have an idea?” He hadn’t seen the price tag, but it was a scarf, it would be fine, right? 

“Ah.” The clerk smiled and turned over the price tag to take a look. “This one is... 66,000 yen, typically.” Doppo’s jaw dropped, so she quickly continued. “But this is the end of season for such warm scarves. There’s a sale on it-- it’s 60,000 yen today!” 

Doppo looked down to his wallet-stuffed pocket in panic. Ramuda hadn’t given him a limit, sure, and there was a credit card in there, but 60,000 yen!? That was nearly a month’s rent for one scarf! There was no way he could abuse Ramuda’s generosity. Especially not for a scarf. Looking up though, the clerk looked so expectant, and had spent so much time helping him. 

He swallowed thickly. “Um... are there... any cheaper scarves?” He mumbled. The clerk, to her credit, just smiled and nodded. “There are a few. Here.” She folded the scarf back up and put it on the shelf to take a few others down. “These thin ones are currently 50,000-- so are these fluffy mohaired ones! And the light weight silk ones are 52.” Upon seeing Doppo’s terrified face, her expression fell a bit. “There are these skinny scarves for 26,000?” She held up a silk scarf that looked more like a tie. Doppo hesitated. Honestly, he’d liked the first scarf. It actually looked like it would keep him warm-- Autumn would be upon him before too long. But there was nearly a 20,000 yen difference between it and this skinny one. 

“Or... if you’re still looking for cheaper, we have socks?” The clerk gestured over to a display of soft socks. They didn’t seem all that special, though the 10,000 yen price tag-- 10,000! For SOCKS!-- was more appealing than any of the others. He gave the socks a long look, then saw the clerk, who’s sweet expression was surely hiding disdain or annoyance or embarrassment, though it only showed patient amusement. 

“...Ramuda did say to get something popular... something my style...” He was sure he’d seen people around Shibuya wearing similar tartan scarves... but again, the price! But again-- ugh, he had to get something! He had to-- Oh, right, he could just... ask if it was okay. Ramuda had also said to send him pictures.

“Ah... Can I see the first scarf again?” The clerk nodded, handing it back to him. Doppo fumbled with his flip phone and awkwardly held it up, scarf draped over his shoulder, for a selfie. His fingers fumbled on the keys for the message. 

[To Amemura: Is this good?] 

Ramuda was going to laugh at him, or make fun of him, for sure, or he’d be left standing, waiting-- Ba-ding! 

[Amemura: Burberry! Bougie $$$$!] 

Oh he knew it, he knew it-- 

[Amemura: JK! Lol Buy it] 

Wait. What. 

[Amemura: v handsoem better buy dodo ^w^] 

Doppo stared, then looked at the clerk, who was quietly waiting for his verdict. With one last gentle stroke of the fabric, Doppo spoke before he could second guess himself. “I’ll get it!” 

-----------

Regret gnawed at his insides. The small bag in his hand felt like lead. He’d just spent 60,000 yen of his new boss’s money on a scarf. While Ramuda had encouraged him, it was 60,000 yen. This was probably one of the most expensive things he owned, outside of that gold tie clip Hifumi had bought him, or... or what? He definitely didn’t own anything else that nice. And it was a scarf. And now he had it. He looked down at the bag, and the receipt inside. He could return it. He was barely a block away. He could walk back. 

That would be embarrassing, though. And the clerk would lose that commission, he was sure. And. Ugh, it was a nice scarf. He liked it. A lot. And this was part of his job, he guessed. Fuck. He’d spent 60,000 yen on one item. Ramuda was NOT going to let him get away with just buying that one thing either, not after they’d halved his wardrobe-- QUARTERED! In one go. 

But Doppo was tired. Exhausted. Shopping was exhausting. How was he going to survive, if he had to shop, over and over again? He was doomed, more than doomed. He didn’t deserve all this kindness, he should have begged for his other job and.... 

And... he was pretty hungry. He hadn’t had lunch. Damn it, damn it, damn it. And he was so thirsty. Starbucks. There had to be a Starbucks somewhere, there were Starbucks everywhere. Yet, everywhere he turned, he felt overwhelmed by the people, he barely could tell where a café would be. 

He looked up, squinting against the reflected light off glass, searching for a sign. He didn’t see a sign, per say, but he did notice, apparently pretty damn belatedly, that he had been approaching a mall. Omotesando Hills. He’d heard of it from Hifumi once, but all he remembered was that it was pricey and way too fancy for him.

Then again, fancy malls did usually have Starbucks, and he needed a moment to catch his breath. Head kept down, he steered himself inside to the climate controlled air of the mall and the unreasonable tower of levels above him. It seemed like it was atrium-based, the stores curling around and around in circles. He was on the ground floor and the sight gave him vertigo. 

To his relief, though, there was a Starbucks just on the floor below him. It had a line, but it wasn’t any worse than the ones anywhere else, and it would be less stressful to wait for a drink and pastry than to figure out his next move. The time was ticking down.

After a wasted ten minutes in line, Doppo ended up waiting for his coffee in silence, a warmed scone bagged and in his hands. He checked his watch. Honestly, for all the stress, his scarf adventure had only taken twenty minutes. He had time before three, but it was tempting to just head back with his single scarf and disappoint Ramuda. He didn't have energy to get anything more. If he was fast, he had maybe had enough in him for three more stores, and that was ignoring his choice paralysis and his inevitable fall into the endless pit of social pressure.

At least the scone was good. Belatedly, he remembered he remembered he had to stop back to get Ramuda his drink. What was it again? Something sweet. “Chocolate... no... caramel?” He would have to text to check. Caramel felt right. It was just sugar. He was about to pull his cell out when he heard a voice near him. 

“Mr. Kannonzaka?” Doppo looked up sharply, startled out of his mumbled rambling. The voice wasn’t one he was familiar with. He began to frantically search his mind. Feminine; Someone he went to highschool with? He didn’t remember anyone from then, and who would remember him, he was a fly on the wall, just a little speck. He didn’t know any other women, either, where would he meet them? His previous job? Oh god, someone saw his melt down and-- 

“It IS you! Hi again!” Doppo jumped. In his sprint through his limited memories of ‘girls he knew and would even remember his name’, he hadn’t realized he was being approached. The woman in front of him was just as unfamiliar as her voice. He was at a loss for when he’d met such a cutely dressed girl. ‘Again,’ she’d said. 

He dumbly replied with a hello. 

“Do you remember? From the cafe.” Doppo blinked slowly, wracking his mind. He really only had met two women, the hostess, and the lolita waitress. It was not the waitress, so-- 

“Oh!” Doppo stood bolt straight. Outside her prim uniform, Akiko was hard to recognize. White apron was traded for light blue skirt, starched button up was traded for blouse. Her hair too, was loose in waves, a soft look that matched her pale pink makeup. The serious, mature look was gone entirely. 

“Ms. Takizawa! I- I didn’t-- Sorry, I didn’t recognize you!” Doppo colored in embarrassment, bowing sharply. Akiko laughed a little, perhaps startled by the sudden apology. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Everyone’s got their work personas, right?” Akiko adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “It’s nice to see you again. Out shopping?” 

Doppo made an uneasy sound. “Sort... of.” 

“Sort of?” Akiko tilted her head to the side, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“I... uh. Amemura told me to go shopping. He offered me the personal assistant job but I don’t think he thinks I’m fashionable enough?” 

Akiko replied bluntly. “If your suit from before says anything, you aren’t.” Ouch. She seemed to catch up with her words. “I mean! You just... Um. Fashion isn’t everyone’s thing?” 

Doppo deflated. “It’s not mine, for sure. I guess I just have to learn.” 

“What did you get so far?” She leaned on the tips of her pumps to try and see in the bag he was holding. He held it out to her so she could part the tissue and see inside. 

“Well, Burberry is a really nice brand... but it’s super expensive. No wonder you only got a scarf.” 

Doppo sighed heavily, and nodded. “It... I just sort of ended up in there. It seemed like a good start.” 

Akiko hummed thoughtfully, looking him up and down, then glancing over her shoulder into the line of people. “It’s not a bad start, if you have an unlimited budget.” Doppo felt his shoulders become heavy with anxiety and regret. “But you can be fashionable without spending all of your money! You just need to know what to look for!” 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? “But I don’t.” He mumbled, crinkling the bag of his scone. 

“That’s okay!” Akiko piped up cheerfully. Hadn’t she just said he’d need to know what to look for? That seemed sort of contradictory-- 

“I ~ can help you.” She smiled, putting her hands on her hips, elbows akimbo. 

Doppo’s back twinged in pain as he straightened up once more. “You don’t have to do that! I can figure it out, this is my job and--” 

“Nope! I can help. My girlfriend and I were out shopping anyway! It’ll be fun. Besides, how often do fans get to hang out with MC DOPPO?” She turned to wave to a woman in line, dressed in torn jeans and a black shirt. The woman snapped to attention, waved back, and gave her an inquisitive look. 

“I don’t want to ruin your day out.” It was like asking her to work more, just because Doppo didn’t know a t-shirt from a blouse. 

“And I already made a decision. I’m helping you. It’s my day out, like you said. Think of it as repayment for the autograph! One sec. Stay right there!” With that Akiko ran back to the line and the woman in it. Doppo, for half a second, considered fleeing, just so he wouldn’t inconvenience her. But it would be even ruder to leave and let her generosity go to waste. Reciprocity and all that, not that his autograph was worth anything. It would be rude to leave when she’d said to wait too. 

Doppo, per usual, didn’t get a chance to make his choice between staying or fleeing, as Akiko returned with the woman on her arm. The two of them were a startling pair, Akiko tall and elegant, dressed in pastels and frills, the woman short and glowering, her shirt emblazoned with a skull and decorated with faked rips and repairs. With how sharp her eyeliner was, Doppo feared being cut by her gaze. 

“You remember Mirimi, right? She works at the cafe too!” Akiko hugged the woman--Mirimi’s arm affectionately. 

“‘Sup.” Mirimi inclined her head in greeting. Doppo took a long moment to think back to the café the day before. The waitress, her name had been... 

“HA?!” Doppo couldn’t help but let out a sound of shock, eyes widening. The waitress from yesterday had been round-faced and cute, ideally lolita in her outfit and appearance. This Mirimi, upon closer inspection, did have the same soft features, but contrasted in both her dress and manner of speaking. 

Mirimi snorted as Akiko started to laugh. “What did I say about work personas? Mirimi’s game to help you shop, so let’s get to it! She’s totally fashionable.” If fashionable was punk grunge, Doppo supposed. 

Mirimi nodded. “Let’s get you into shape. You were a mess yesterday, and you’re slightly less of a mess today.” Doppo cringed. Looked like both girls didn’t pull punches when it came to fashion. 

“Like I said, I can do it myself.” Doppo wished he’d fled before. The pressure was immense. Mirimi smirked. 

“Sure you can. Hop to. Grab your coffee. We’re going shopping." She crossed her arms over her chest. "First though, we're leaving Omotesando Hills. This place makes my wallet scream.” Doppo could agree with her on that, at least. 

Akiko pouted and jabbed Mirimi in the side. “You were the one that wanted that necklace.”

“I didn’t know how much it was gonna cost! Do I look like I’ve got 200,000 yen to burn?” Mirimi complained. 

“It’s Omotesando. What did you think it would cost?” Akiko rolled her eyes. 

Doppo stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. As they argued, he sidled over to the counter to grab his drink, then back. By the time he returned, they were back to being arm in arm, waiting for him. 

“Well, are you coming?” Mirimi made it sound like Doppo had held them up, not their bickering! He sighed, but nodded. 

“I’m in your care. I guess.”

Chapter Text

It turned out that when Mirimi said that they were getting out of Omotesando Hills, she meant leaving Omotesando completely. Left behind was the broad expanse of street and expensive stores. Instead, the station rushed up to meet them, Doppo herded by the bickering girls past the ticket stand and onto the bustling platform. He’d tried to protest a couple times, bringing up how he didn’t really have a ton of time and how he really had to be getting back to work, but he was pretty firmly ignored. He’d only gotten an ‘it’ll only take a bit’ in acknowledgement, Akiko turning back to Mirimi to extol the virtues of Kichijoji’s simple, vintage fashions to combat the suggestion of Shimokitazawa, which she protested was ‘too rock and roll’ for someone like Doppo.

Doppo decided it was best not to protest his ability to be ‘rock and roll’, or ask what that meant.

Mirimi clicked her tongue in annoyance. “We can go to Toyo in Shimokitazawa, though. If he’s gotta get back to work, we can do all of the shopping there. Or go to New York Joe. It’s cheap.”

Akiko sighed, somewhat dramatically. “It’ll take twenty minutes to get there, anyway. Might as well go all the way to Kichijoji. One is totally his style, and there’s a New York Joe there too.”

Doppo looked between the two, lost. He definitely didn’t have time or energy for a forty minute round trip, regardless of which station they went to. He opened his mouth to say as much. Akiko continued. “Don Don Down is there too, if we’re going cheap!”

“If we’re just going for cheap--” Mirimi frowned. “We go to Stick Out. Or, hell, we can stay in Shibuya. Kinji is just down the street.”

Doppo did like the idea of staying in the neighborhood. He flipped his phone open anxiously, as if checking a schedule. “Amemura said I needed to be back by three...” He muttered, viscerally flinching as the two snapped to look at him.

“Woah woah woah, that’s not enough time for shopping!” Akiko protested, also looking at her phone. “You should have said something!”

Doppo sighed. He had. Several times. “I need to get back to his office--” Studio? “--I can’t be late, this my job.”

Mirimi frowned. “Give me that.” She snatched the phone out of his hand before Doppo could stop her, his hands flailing. Her frown seemed to deepen in concentration as she furiously typed on the little keyboard. “Why the hell do you have a flip-phone, anyway? It’s not 1999.” Doppo tried not to take offense. The little device had been with him since high school, and it was very reliable, thank you very much. “Here.” Mirimi snapped a photo, then thrust the phone back into his hands. “No more problems.” Doppo looked quizzically at the screen, the little SNS client open.

[To Amemura:] We’ve kidnapped Kannonzaka for retail rehabilitation.]
[Amemura]: E???? Docchi?
[image]
While he was reading, his text tone pinged, and a new message from Ramuda appeared. He hadn’t even had the time to open the picture Mirimi had sent.
[Amemura]: lololol k! B nice to puppy! He can come back whenever

Puppy?! Ramuda seemed determined to liken him to a dog. Doppo really didn’t like it, but he bit his tongue. He couldn’t be badmouthing his new boss on the first day, Ramuda or not. Doppo’s shoulders slumped. It looked like there was no escape from this shopping trip.

Akiko peered over his shoulder at the phone. “Ooh! We have all the time in the world, then! To Kichioji?”

Mirimi pursed her lips. “We didn’t agree on Kichioji.”
“Yeaaaah, buuuut.” Akiko pouted. “I’m right, though? You agree, right, Mr. Kannonzaka?”

Doppo couldn’t say he had an opinion either way. Maybe he’d been to Kichioji with Hifumi once or twice, and he couldn’t remember if he’d ever been to Shimokitazawa. “Um... I like the idea of staying in Shibuya...”

The quicker he could get back to work, then go home, the better. All of the shopping and forceful personalities were stressing him out. At least at his old job, everyone was suffering the same as him. Everyone kept their heads down, no one stood out. Now he felt like the center of attention, and he didn’t even have control over what he was doing. Akiko tilted her head in thought. “Well, if you wanna stay in Shibuya, we should stay in Shibuya.” Wait, it was that easy? “We can start on Cat Street.”

Mirimi nodded her agreement. “Saves us from the train anyway. Maybe we went overboard. Sorry, Kannonzaka.”

Doppo blinked owlishly, eyes comically wide. An apology too? An actual consideration of his feelings? It felt too good to be true-- and maybe it was. His heart sank. Clearly, they both knew Ramuda. Although Doppo didn’t know him personally, Jakurai had always seemed hesitant to trust him and doubt his motivations-- and the friends of his enemy would be...This could just be a scheme to humiliate him completely-- he’d already gotten dressed up in all sorts of outfits, and he was probably being made fun of on social media, and-- “I... I...”

“Mr. Kannonzaka?” Akiko furrowed her brow. “You okay?”

He’d just been standing there, hadn’t he? Ugh, who knew how long his thoughts had drawn him away from reality. “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m fine.” He bowed sharply, voice rushed with nerves. “Let’s go! Um--!” He began to walk in a direction, then paused, quickly going back to Mirimi and Akiko’s sides. He barely knew how to get out of the station, let alone where they were going.

Akiko gave him a sympathetic smile, giving him a gentle push between the shoulder blades. “This way’s the exit.”

“R-Right.” Doppo decided he would just follow along. Insofar, it had been a good strategy in life. Go with the flow, don’t push back. In his therapy sessions, Jakurai often brought up that his passiveness was both a strength and a weakness. Once he was mired in a situation, he didn’t escape it, regardless of the pain it brought. But the status quo would remain. Safe, guided. A current that carried him, for better or worse.
This was just a faster, more unknown river, he guessed. At least he wasn’t drowning anymore.

The store he was ushered into, too, didn’t feel... particularly intimidating. Sure, it had the shining glass windows he’d seen all over Omotesando, but it felt more standard. Racks and racks of clothes in different patterns and colors and sizes were displayed in clusters. It was overstuffed in contrast to the austerity of the Omotesando stores, the clutter even hiding the stairs he was eventually ushered up.
Initially, he cringed at what he saw. Streetwear-- basketball shorts and hats, oversized jerseys. Things that he immediately associated with the youthful and (honestly) confusing styles of the Buster Bros. For a moment, he tried to imagine himself, backwards hat and all. For a moment, he felt like fainting from embarrassment.
To his immense relief, neither of the girls went for the street styles specifically, abandoning him by the stairs to go pawing through the racks. Doppo followed awkwardly, not wanting to be left loitering. The rack to his immediate left was piled full with short-sleeved shirts, none of which filled him with a sense of immediate bewildered monetary panic. That may have been an exaggeration, but after Burberry, he felt cornered by wild beasts coming for his (well, Ramuda’s) wallet.

He reached for a simple white tee. He held his breath as he carefully located the neck tag and tugged it into view. Five-hundred yen. His entire body sagged in relief. Finally, something reasonable. It was just a t-shirt-- why would it be expensive? His mind berated. Surely this was the norm, and his worry was silly and unwarranted. That being said, the five digit price tags from the Burberry store came to mind, the plain polos and simple socks costing as much as a shinkansen ticket. He cringed.

“Kannonzaka.” Mirimi gestured for him to come from across the room. Next to her, Akiko had her arms full of clothing, from the legs of denim jeans to a floppy, striped sleeve presumably connected to a shirt. Doppo felt ice go down his spine, remembering the morning’s fashion show and the culling of his wardrobe. The ordeal was not over. “You look like a large, yeah?” She picked up a pair of pants and held it up, sizing him up.

“Uh... usually...” It was mostly because of his height. He wasn’t as tall as Hifumi or Jakurai, but he did seem to qualify as ‘tall’ to the Japanese fashion industry. He often wondered how Jakurai got his clothing-- if it was foreign or specially made. Akiko popped her head out from behind the stack.

“Great! We found a whole ton of cool things in large! You wanna go try some on?”

Doppo swallowed. Considering his earlier ‘fashion montage’ with Ramuda, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what they’d picked out for him. Nonetheless, he nodded, knowing that there was no way he’d be able to pick things for himself. Besides, what did he have to lose? Most of his wardrobe was going into an incinerator.
Akiko smiled brightly and held up an over-large sweatshirt. Was that Winnie the Pooh?
Maybe he was going to have some regrets after all.
------

Distantly, Doppo was sure he heard his text tone. It was generic, but distinct in its genericness, his mind pavlovian conditioned to feel alarm at its chime, a lance of panic through his nerves. His head swiveled toward where he thought it had come from, eyes locking onto the veritable mountain of clothing stacked on the bench of his changing room. He started to move toward it when there came a knock at the door.
“Are you in the next outfit yet?” Akiko’s voice came through, curious and thankfully not impatient. Doppo must have been hearing things, as the ring did not come again.

“I’m not so sure...” Doppo turned back toward the mirror, studying himself carefully. The girls had picked out a pair of skinny-legged jeans, which, while tight, fit well. Even he could see that. The problem was the shirt they’d picked to go with it. It was long, the button up reaching down to his thighs, and a brilliant sapphire blue, striped with teal and black. Brighter than anything he’d ever worn willingly, and overwhelming in how it covered his torso from neck to knee.

“Show us! You haven’t been sure about anything.” While Akiko was right, Doppo’s confidence in this endeavor was as dubious as ever, he couldn’t help but feel a little chided. He sighed and opened the door for his fashion critics to see.

Even the stoic Mirimi’s face twisted, nose scrunching in an attempt not to laugh. Akiko’s hands flew to her mouth to cover it. Doppo glowered, shoulders sagging at the obvious attempt to hide their not so flattering thoughts. “I told you I wasn’t sure about this one.”

With Akiko preoccupied trying to not show a grin between her fingers, Mirimi stepped up to tug at Doppo’s shirt, abruptly undoing his top buttons and seizing the bottom fabric. Doppo’s voice pitched high into a scandalized squawk. “Hey, what are you-- stop that!”

Mirimi acknowledged his protests with a glance, rolled her eyes, and pulled the bottoms up slightly. “Tuck these in.” She gave him a long stare, not breaking her gaze, even as he took the fabric from her to neatly (or he hoped it was neatly) shove it past the waist band.

“There, happy?” Doppo knew his voice was terse, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel apologetic.

Mirimi hummed, tilted her head, and tugged the shirt out slightly, adjusting it this way and that until she was apparently satisfied. She gave him another look, then shook her head. “Stay here.”

Doppo watched her walk away, expression blank with a lack of understanding. He looked to Akiko for explanation or perhaps reassurance but received a shrug. “She works in mysterious ways.”

Mirimi returned not a moment later, stepping up behind Doppo to loop something around his neck. It was cold and foreign, and he almost flinched as her fingers brushed his nape. Glancing down, he saw the dark chain of a necklace. She circled back around to the front of him and dropped a pair of loafers at his feet, hands thrusting a belt into his hands. “Put these on and look again.”

Doppo swallowed thickly and nodded, cowed by Mirimi’s intimidating stare-- which was somehow enhanced by her being only five foot five in platform boots. Her solid stance made it clear that he did not have a choice in the matter. All escape routes were blocked by clothing displays. He ducked back into the changing room, door left ajar as he adjusted his fashion accordingly and studied himself in the mirror.
Somehow, his reflection seemed different all of a sudden. The overwhelming block of pattern and color was broken up by the slightly askew collar, the white of his undershirt (which has somehow survived Ramuda’s onslaught) peeking out in contrast. The line of the necklace made sure his collarbone didn’t look bare, while the belt made a dark barrier between the blues of his jeans and his shirt. For being second hand, the loafers were still a nice, shiny black leather, fake or real, he couldn’t tell. Even with his shoulders hunched, and his eyes looking tired, he looked... put together. No, he wasn’t sure that was the effect. He felt like he might stand out. Like he should stand up straighter. He sort of associated necklaces like this one with hosts Hifumi might work with, but he couldn’t bring himself to dislike it. It was decently understated, even if the idea of jewelry seemed overly flashy.

He felt like he had that morning at Empty Candy. Brighter. More confident. The teal seemed to match his eyes, at least.
Akiko and Mirimi poked their heads in after him. Akiko beamed at him as Mirimi had the gall to look smug. “What do you think?” Akiko asked brightly. “Good, right?”

Doppo felt himself nodding, a smile working its way onto his face despite himself. Her excitement was infectious. “Yeah, I... yeah. It’s... good.”

Mirimi nodded to herself, as if there had been no doubt about her choices. “And guess what?” Doppo canted his head to the side, brow furrowing.

“Thirteen thousand yen.” She jabbed him in the chest with a black-tipped finger. “Cheap enough for you?”

While he might have balked at paying that much for clothes the day before, Burberry and their hundred thousand yen socks had made him a changed man. A whole outfit for one and three tenths of a pair of socks was remarkable for this thing they called “fashion”. “I...”

“Great.” Mirimi wasn’t about to let him rebut her statement, even though he wasn’t going to. “Any basic wardrobe needs a shirt for every day of the week, three pairs of pants, one for dress events, and at least two pairs of shoes.” Mirimi listed out. “Keep the jeans on and try on some more shirts. We’re going to leave with at least that much.”

Doppo nodded, mute under Mirimi’s fashion authority. It wasn’t as if he could get out of this alive. He winced, brain quickly adding up what the price of a whole set of clothes would be. It would be more than he usually spent in a day, that was for sure. That being said, it was on Ramuda’s dime. Ramuda, who had just thrown away probably twenty times this amount in clothing out of Doppo’s closet. Ramuda, who antagonized his team left and right. Ramuda who-- well, who’d been nothing but nice in his pushy, obnoxious way. The tightness in Doppo’s chest relaxed a bit. If Ramuda was officially employing him (and he was, wasn’t he? Not that they’d had time to do all of the office admin work), he couldn’t very well expect him to come to work naked.

He allowed himself to be pushed back into the changing room, the lock clicking behind him, and picked up a sweater to continue his fashion gauntlet.

------
Eventually, he did work his way down through the pile and to his buried cellphone without having an anxiety attack. (He had gotten close a few times, but he hadn’t given in. The clothes would not win.) Most of what Akiko and Mirimi had picked out were at least business casual; Sweaters and collared shirts, a vest or two, a blazer. Maybe a bit flashier than he’d like, but overall perfectly sensible for work, at least in a fashion studio in Shibuya. (Akiko reassured him of this fact.) There were some exceptions to this, however. Somehow the Winnie the Pooh sweater had made it through their exacting standards; it was oversized but soft and did in fact look good over a dark maroon shirt. A few odd t-shirts that had fit well and had been deemed stylish had been cleared for wearing; Doppo didn’t know the brand or the graphics on them, but he’d double and triple checked, if English was involved, it wasn’t anything vulgar. Some sneakers had been pushed his way along with the loafers. Accessories in the form of a few necklaces, scarves, and hats took up more room in his basket than the clothes did. Of course, jackets to replace those he’d lost had been carefully chosen too. All ended up being over a hundred thousand yen, but compared to getting two particularly fancy scarves, this expenditure at least seemed reasonable in its volume.

The small device had been tucked into his pants pocket, snug against his wallet, small outer screen lit up with notifications. Ten new SMS messages, it read, alternating with the time: 7:23 PM. The store’s overhead speaker chimed with a message warning of closing soon. Doppo grimaced, glancing out the store windows as he checked out. While it was never truly dark in Shibuya, the light had shifted from the natural warmth of the sun to the neon and LED lights that shone in the evening. Considering how much he would need to do for onboarding back at Ramuda’s studio, it was going to be a late night. He could only hope the texts hadn’t been from his new, mercurial boss wondering if it was already time to fire him.

He flipped open his phone and opened his texts with the click of a button. Initially, he was relieved to see that Ramuda’s last message was three boxes down-- no texts sent since he had been abducted. He knew that Akiko and Ramuda had been texting while they’d shopped, she had taken pictures of him in every outfit combination they could think of, but it seemed that neither of them felt the need to keep him in the loop. Above Ramuda’s texts, however, were two very familiar text contacts: “Dr. Jinguji” and “Hifumi” followed by three sparkle emojis. He swallowed, feeling tension build in his chest. It wasn’t as if he was surprised to hear from his closest friends, but usually they didn’t bother him during ‘work hours’ this much, unless it was an emergency, or they were desperately worried for him. He clicked Hifumi’s messages first.

[Hifumi] WTF where are your clothes
[Hifumi] Doppochin answer me!!!
[Hifumi] Whats going on???
[Hifumi] Im not mad I just need to know if you’re okay or if you joined a monastery or smth
[Hifumi] Doppo
[Hifumi] Doppo
[Hifumi] Doppo

And so on. Geeze, what was Hifumi doing in his room looking into his closet anyway? He should’ve known-- his best friend and roommate was a nosy busybody on the best of days. There wasn’t really a good explanation for why his closet was totally empty, either. He wasn’t about to tell him the truth, it was somehow wilder than any excuse. He decided to check Jakurai’s texts next. One single line.

[Dr. Jinguji] Please call Hifumi, he’s very concerned about you and the state of your closet.

Straight and to the point. He should have also expected that Hifumi would get Jakurai involved. Neither of them seemed capable of managing adult crises without his sage advice. He grimaced, texting back quickly, almost on autopilot.

[To: Dr. Jinguji] I will, I was just busy

He paused and stared at the words he sent, sighed, and continued.

[To: Dr. Jinguji] I decided to throw out my clothes to start anew--

No, delete delete delete.

[To: Dr. Jinguji] I spilled bleach all over my closet--

No, that wasn’t believable, there’d be stains on the floor.

[To: Dr. Jinguji] Someone told me I was unfashionable, so I decided to get new clothes. It was kind of a rash decision...

There, technically the truth, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he’d done wilder things in a fit of rage.

[To: Dr. Jinguji] I’m fine. I’ll be home tonight, like normal.

The screen displayed a set of dots. Typing...

[Dr. Jinguji] Ah, that’s a relief. We will talk about impulse control at a later time. I’m sure Hifumi will be excited to take you shopping.

Doppo sagged in relief. He hadn’t expected that Jakurai would accept his explanation, just like that. He wasn’t sure if that was reassuring, that he was trusted so much, or disheartening, that such behavior was not out of character for him. Regardless of the reason, he had a solid half-truth to rely on. Now he just had to convince Hifumi. Briefly, he considered just texting him back, Hifumi was surely starting work, but he knew Jakurai was right. The only way to calm Hifumi’s spiral of worry was to talk to him.

He, Mirimi, and Akiko said goodbye at the doors. It was getting late, and Doppo assured them that he could make his way back to Empty Candy on his own. It wasn’t as if hauling bags was a new experience, after all. Hifumi did not hold back when it came to shopping trips, and Doppo was his willing, although complaining, pack mule nine times out of ten. He could probably balance all of his purchases and navigate Harajuku’s back streets. Probably.

Neither of his new fashion consultants seemed interested in protesting, so they made sure he had their numbers in his phone, that the bags were securely looped on his arms, and went off into the night. As they left, he heard Mirimi mention feeding a cat. Akiko jolted in surprise, and promptly ran off into the nearest Lawson corner store.
Doppo managed to tuck his cellphone in between his shoulder and ear as he walked, Hifumi’s number already dialed. It rang several times, seconds that felt like hours as he waited for it to probably go to voicemail. Finally, it clicked, and he opened his mouth to start a message.

“Doppo! You’re alive!”

Doppo flinched with his entire body, just barely managing to keep his hold on his bags and precarious cellphone. Hifumi’s voice was loud (way too loud) and clear over the receiver. He sighed.
“Yeah.” Though sometimes he wished he wasn’t. This was one of those moments. “I’m alive. What were you doing pawing through my stuff?” He tried not to sound too annoyed, but it was hard when it came to Hifumi.

“I was going to do your laundry, cause I’m a nice roommate!” Hifumi protested. His voice became quieter as he spoke to someone beyond Doppo’s flip phone. “I’ll be right there, Ryuji, give me a second... Sorry about that.” Doppo felt his heart dip. Of course Hifumi had just been being nice. Doppo was just an ingrate.

“It’s fine... thanks for the thought.”

Hifumi hummed in a way that gave Doppo the impression he was shrugging it off. “That’s not the point. What’s going on? It’s not like you ever had a ton of clothes, but you don’t have anything anywhere. It looked like you got kidnapped.” In a way, Doppo sort of had been, he supposed. He’d at least been bullied. He paused for a long moment to try and find the best way to phrase it to Hifumi.
“Doppochin?”

“Give me a second, I’m thinking.” Like that wasn’t suspicious. “Someone called me unfashionable.”

“But you are?” Hifumi’s comment went right to the heart. He didn’t have to be so blunt about it.

“Yeah, but you don’t tell people that!” Doppo would have thrown up his hands in exasperation if they weren’t weighed down with clothing bags. “I got angry... and threw out my clothes, that’s all.”

There was a beat of silence from Hifumi’s end of the line. Doppo allowed it.

“That’s... that’s ALL?” Hifumi’s voice cracked as his breath hitched, clearly trying to suppress laughter. He quickly failed, bursting out into wild giggles. “You threw out your clothes?! Doppochin, that’s NUTS! What are you gonna wear?” No doubt from Hifumi either, huh? He really had to work on his anger issues.

“I didn’t throw everything away...” Thank god, Ramuda had mercy. He was pretty sure anything Hifumi had gifted him was still intact. “And it’s not like I can’t buy more.”

“You’re such a cheapskate, though.” Rude. “It’s just gonna be more crap.” Extremely rude. “I’ll take you shopping on the weekend! It’ll be fun!” Well, at least Jakurai had been right about the enthusiasm. He could make it up to Hifumi for the scare with something simple like a shopping tip. The guilt lingered anyway.

“I can do that myself, you know.” He had to protest a little, or Hifumi would start sensing something was wrong. “I’m not hopeless.”

Hifumi audibly blew a raspberry in response. “Sure you’re not. Keep Saturday clear, okay?” Doppo grunted his assent, unsure of what else to say. “When are you going to be home?”

Now that was a good question. He didn’t have a clue what Ramuda would say when he got back to the studio... Ramuda would still be there, wouldn’t he? Then again, it was rapidly getting very late for business hours. “Um... probably late.” Not that Hifumi could check either way, he’d be working through the night. “But I’ll be home.”

“Sounds good!” Hifumi chirped, his tone sounding like a smile. “I left dinner in the fridge for you, so make sure to eat.” Doppo would make sure to remember. He owed Hifumi that much. “Be home in the morning. Don’t work too hard, okay?” Doppo wasn’t sure he had the energy to work much harder after the amount of clothes he’d tried on.

“Okay, I’ll do my best.” Doppo couldn’t help the soft smile on his face, voice both tired and fond. He couldn’t stay annoyed with Hifumi for long. “See you, Hifumi.”

“Goodnight, Doppochin.” The phone call ended with a quiet speaker click. The Harajuku backstreets were quiet as well, warm lights illuminating the paths. People’s voices were only low murmurs from the stores. Everything settled with his friends, Doppo allowed himself the moment of peace. He was more than sure it would be as rare as ever.

------

Empty candy was barely lit when he approached the door, the overhead lights dimmed and the neon signs on the walls providing the most visibility. For all intents and purposes, the studio space seemed closed. There were no clients, and Ramuda was not visibly present. Still, the door was unlocked, and Doppo was able to shoulder his way in, intent on at least retrieving his surviving clothes and suitcase. Most things had been left the same way it had been that morning. Some drawing paper had pulled out onto the drafting table and some fabric swatches were laid in a neat fan-- those were new. His surviving clothes remained in a pile, and his empty suitcase was in the corner where he left it. The mountain of denied clothing was gone, though, the table space where they had been clean and clear. No saving those now.

Doppo shook his head and quietly took his suitcase to re-pack it with his newly improved wardrobe, tucking each neatly folded item in against each other. Everything fit inside with room to spare, significantly lighter and less bulging than it had been that morning. That was a relief, he could get this on a train without fuss. He’d have more closet space, too.

He looked around the empty studio, making sure he had not missed something vital-- like a hidden pink designer, ready to strike. Ultimately, it was just a normal workspace empty for the day, less threatening than it had been that morning with Ramuda darting here and there. He wouldn’t be getting anything else done that night. He wouldn’t even know what he was supposed to do, there was no one to ask. Doppo supposed that meant he could just go home.

That was an odd feeling. No looming headlines or piles of work waiting for him at his desk. No exhausted coworkers looking desperately at the clock. He could go home, eat dinner, and not think of what was to come. He could just go to sleep.

He gave Empty Candy one more cursory look, as if hidden work would reveal itself under careful scrutiny. Nothing appeared. He checked his phone. He’d gotten a few texts while he was talking to Hifumi at eight pm. Ramuda. He swallowed thickly and flipped his cell open.

[Ramuda] Im headed out with the posse! Hope u had fun~
[Ramuda] get some rest, k?? Weve got work 2 do
[Ramuda] dont worry ur paid 4 2day! Shoppings work!!!!!!
[Ramuda] keys on the wall, make sure 2 lock up c u 2morro in ur new clothes!!

Doppo stared at the phone screen. He wasn’t sure how long he stared, but things got darker, and shop fronts started to close. Things started to become quieter and quieter. The growl of his stomach was the only thing that moved him from his stupor and toward the door in the end. The thought of Hifumi’s dinner waiting in the refrigerator. Nothing else seemed real. Doppo locked the door, the key dropped in his pocket. His suitcase dragged behind as he walked home through the night.

He registered the train, his building’s elevator, the ding of his microwave. He registered the warmth of the reheated salmon and the salty furikake-covered rice. And then he registered hot wetness on his cheeks, water drops on the dining table. He didn’t know when he’d started crying. He wasn’t sure he could even feel the tears, or know why they came.
But he did know to wipe his face and put on pajamas, brush his teeth and curl up in bed, the blankets warm and soft and smelling like detergent. Hifumi did the laundry after all. And he did know that he was tired, and that anticipation was not pulling at his nerves and making him toss and turn and squirm out of his own skin. Everything was heavy and warm, and he did not even think of unpacking his new wardrobe. He only thought of how comfortable he felt, even with his eyes burning, how cozy, full of Hifumi’s dinner and cocooned in sheets. It was the last thing he was thinking about as sleep claimed him, in fact, the events of the day too surreal to be anything but a dream.

------

Hifumi’s pacing was wearing a line into the living room carpet. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step. A white knuckled grip on his cell, teeth worrying his bottom lip. He spoke frantically. “I’m serious, Doc! All of them! Well, not his undies, but everything else!”

Jakurai’s sigh was audible over the speaker, cell phone held at a slight distance, speakerphone on. “Please slow down, Hifumi. Can you repeat what’s happened? Doppo is...?”

Hifumi took a deep breath and explained slower. “So, Doppochin’s been acting a little weird, right?” Jakurai hummed on the other end.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t struck by anything out of the ordinary.” Doppo’s worrying, anxiety, and exhaustion had been within normal parameters. High parameters, but again, normal for Doppo.

“Forgetting he hurt himself was kinda much even for him. And on Saturday, he got home early. EARLY!” Hifumi threw his free hand up in the air, even if Jakurai could not see the gesture.

“Sometimes he is able to get away after a difficult week, no matter how rare the occurrence is.” Jakurai frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Doppo’s long hours were more worrying than his ability to get home early this one time, but it did seem to sufficiently spook Hifumi.

“Okay, maybe that’s not the weirdest.” Hifumi paused. “The weirdest is that all. His. Clothes. Are gone!”

“...Pardon?” Jakurai had heard him the first time he’d said it, even if he’d been a whirlwind of words. Hearing it again with such clarity had him taken aback.

“His clothes. All of them, outside of socks and underwear. They’re all gone from his room! I went in to get his laundry and EMPTY. Where did they go?! It’s not like he woulda taken them all to work! Or-- I can’t actually think of a reason to pack up all your clothes, but. Is he running away? Doc, is he gonna go become a monk?!”

“Hifumi.” Jakurai tried to interject.

“Or join a cult?! Or maybe he’s getting a new identity to run from the Yakuza because he saw something he shouldn’t and they want to silence him--”

“Hifumi!” Hifumi quieted finally, Jakurai’s tone stern. “These things are very unlikely, especially without any sort of... forewarning.”

Hifumi swallowed thickly, letting out a heavy breath. “Right. He woulda mentioned... a monastery. Or a cult? Or... the Yakuza. Right... We did help him with a murder already. It’s not like we’d leave him the lurch.” He tried to wrack his brain for some explanation that was less insane, but his mind kept jumping to the wild and disastrous.

“Doppo knows we wouldn’t abandon him in a difficult situation.” Jakurai reassured. “More likely it’s something benign. Perhaps he needed to dry clean-- or he spilled something in the closet.”

“I would’ve heard the screams if he spilled something, though! And he knows I’ll do the laundry.” Then again, that could’ve been it. Doppo didn’t want to inconvenience him, so he stayed quiet and cleaned up himself. Still, something felt off.

“Please wait until the evening before we begin to worry. It’s most likely that he will return from work with an explanation.” Jakurai sincerely hoped it was simply laundry, or a catharsis-caused wardrobe purge. He always recommended Doppo limit or even remove stressors. Had he taken that to heart?

“Right! Right. Or... or I could text him?” Why hadn’t Hifumi done that first? The panic had crept up way too fast.

“Or you could text him. If he doesn’t respond, he’s likely working hard.” Hifumi nodded with a sound of confirmation.

“Thanks, Doc. You always know what to do!” There was a moment’s pause as Jakurai considered the gratitude.

“...Of course.” Not that he’d solved much. Surely, Hifumi could have eventually gotten to this conclusion on his own. The phone clicked as the call ended. Surely.

Chapter Text

Doppo woke up slowly the next morning, sleep falling from him in a groggy haze as his alarm went off on his nightstand. His body felt heavy, his muscles mildly aching the way they always did after a day of activity, and his blanket leaden with how warm and comfortable it was. He groaned and turned his face into his pillow, determined to doze off once more; An impossible feat on account of the annoying blare coming from his bedside clock. Against his wishes, he cracked his eyes open to glare at the red numbers; 5:14 AM. Another groan, although Hifumi would have called it a whine with the amount of misery in it. 

He hated his life. He hated mornings. He hated his alarm clock worst of all. 

The clock glared back at him, uncaring, and continued to scream. 

There was no helping it. He had to get up. There was work to be done and the trains waited for no one. He reached over to silence his clock, straining from the distance between his bed and nightstand. How dare Doppo of the past be so cruel. He’d make it far away on purpose. His fingers flexed. 

Almost. 

So close. 

He felt his balance teeter, his torso pitching forward. With a yelp, his hand found stability on top of the clock, palm slapping the snooze button with enough force to make the clock squeal under his weight. Doppo released a breath he’d held as he’d fallen, stretched out his other arm, and walked his feet off the bed and to the floor. 

Success. 

Still half bent over his nightstand, he stared blearily at his hands, blinking slowly. Next steps. Wash face. Clothes. Breakfast. Brush teeth. Train. Work. Another slow blink. 

Work. He was working for Amemura now. What did that entail, again? Yesterday had been... it had been a lot of work, but it hadn’t been work . He shook his head and pushed himself to a stand, walking loose limbed and zombie-like to the bathroom. The cold water was refreshing as he splashed his face with it, clearing his mind. He stared at himself in the mirror. Same old Doppo. Same bags under his eyes, same lines, same messy hair. 

What would be in store for him today? Proper onboarding, he hoped, though that seemed unlikely. For a moment, his mind flashed back to the neon-harajuku style Ramuda had forced him into the previous day. The outfit wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before around the city, but on him... he shuddered. He splashed his face again, then wandered over to his closet. 

A long pause. It was a mess. No wonder Hifumi had panicked. Hangers were on the floor, or cockeyed on the rail. Apparently he hadn’t gotten everything out, either, as there was a singular, rumpled sock in the corner. What, had he been robbed? Had a hurricane blown through? 

Where were his clothes again? 

Doppo scrunched up his nose as he thought. He knew he’d bought new clothing. There was no way he’d put them away, so they’d still be in the bags... 

He wandered his small bedroom, stepping over his discarded clothes from the previous day on the floor. The goldenrod button up was rumpled, he noticed with a pang of guilt. He really should have treated his gifted clothes with care. If his sleepy mind remembered correctly, they were worth a lot of money. Too crinkled to be worn again today, though. Ramuda would surely have something to say about it. 

He found his new clothes upon his third pass around the bedroom, right where he left them, in the suitcase by the door. Considering their overnight stay folded in bags, they probably wouldn’t be super crisp either, but seeing as he legitimately had no other clothing to wear, he’d have to make something do. 

Doppo rubbed his forehead wearily and crouched down to pick through his options. He barely remembered what he had. 

Crouching became sitting, and sitting became hunching as he weighed his options. There were technically less than before, they’d scaled down his wardrobe considerably, but no longer could he just wear the same suit over and over again either. He hadn’t had so many choices in what to wear since... Doppo glanced at the ceiling in thought. Ever. Probably. 

He looked back down. The clinking of glasses and other kitchen objects came clear as day from outside his door, so he could consult Hifumi, who was clearly home and awake. Although Hifumi also wore the same outfit to work every day out of necessity, his casual outfits were stylish and looked amazing on him no matter what he did. Surely it would be a breeze to choose an outfit with his help. 

But no. Doppo could predict what would happen with great clarity. There would be a lot of questions. Doppo wasn’t stylish, why did he have stylish clothes? When had he gone shopping? Why didn’t he bring Hifumi with him-- it didn’t matter if he’d done it late last night or had just magicked the clothing into existence, Hifumi would still be mad. And why did he want to dress stylishly to a stuffy office? He never had before. Even if he could get through the interrogation, Hifumi would probably insist he try on every outfit for him before choosing. There wasn’t any time for that, and it was far too tedious to endure. 

No, no. He could choose an outfit. He had that capability. Surely. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6:00 AM. He had to...

Doppo paused in his thinking, narrowing his eyes in the clock’s general direction. Had to what? It was so early. Ramuda wouldn’t be awake. 

When did Doppo’s work day start, anyway? Ramuda had said nine for the previous day. Normally, that would be more like seven or eight, but he wouldn’t even know what to do if he got in that early. Make coffee? He couldn’t remember how Ramuda took it, or where any of the stuff to make it even was. He’d been too stressed to remember much about particulars. 

If they’d gotten any of his onboarding done the previous day, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He buried his face in his hands, making a miserable sound. If he didn’t leave at his usual time, Hifumi would have questions, too. If he left normally, though, he wouldn’t have anything to do. 

He still hadn’t even had breakfast or picked out clothes. How was he such a mess? 

A knock came from his door. “Doppo? You up?” Hifumi didn’t sound too concerned. Suffering through the morning may as well have been one of Doppo’s marketable skills. Still, he always checked in. 

“I’m up... I’m... up.” Doppo replied, trying not to let his internal spiral come through in his voice. He was fairly certain he failed, his words sounding rough and tired even to his own ears, but Hifumi just hummed his doubt and graciously didn’t mention it. 

“If you’re sure! I’m gonna make tamagoyaki, so don’t take too much time, okay?”

Hifumi’s tamagoyaki. That was almost worth facing the day for. Fluffy, mildly sweet and savory. So close to being worth the ordeal of living. 

“...Soup too?”  That would make everything worth it. Hifumi laughed. 

“Soup too. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, Doppochin!” Hifumi’s voice faded as he presumably returned to the kitchen, beginning his preparation of Doppo’s incentive to face the day. 

Begrudgingly, Doppo pulled himself up from his slump. If he was going to be a functional human being, he had to start with step one. Clothes. He started pulling each piece of clothing from his suitcase to look at them, holding them up and putting them down in roughly folded piles next to his bed. 

The choices were overwhelming, as he’d feared. There were colors and shirt cuts he wasn’t used to wearing, and an overabundance of combinations he could put them in. He chewed his lip sharply. Maybe he should have asked Akiko and Mirimi to put things together ahead of time, or make a diagram, something. With a long exhale of a sigh, Doppo shook his head. No, they had already done so much for him. Maybe Ramuda would help...? He instinctively cringed.

Ramuda did seem to enjoy dressing him up, and he’d been the one to throw away his clothes in the first place. He could at least help him match things up-- Doppo had already had a set rotation of clothing before all that, he wasn’t going to figure it out again! Not on his own, anyway. Even if he had to endure more of Ramuda’s teasing.

Doppo decided to choose from what little survived from his previous wardrobe, putting together a gray knit cardigan with slacks and a button-down shirt. After a moment of thought, he decided to put aside his new loafers as well, and his terrifyingly designer scarf. Tokyo was still balmy from the humidity of summer, certainly, but that wasn't an excuse to look sloppy. And he'd spent so much damn money on that scarf-- Ramuda's money-- he ought to wear it, at least draped over his shoulders. He could always take it off, and the air conditioning was always on too high this time of year anyway.

Now dressed, Doppo packed the rest of the clothing back into the suitcase to bring with him for Ramuda’s perusal. With some luck-- not that he had any-- he wouldn’t have to try everything on again, and maybe they would get work done today. He wasn’t sure he could handle a work schedule that was full of just clothing shopping-based trauma. He zipped up his suitcase, and after a moment of thought, fished the Empty Candy key out of his slacks from the day prior, dropping them into his current pocket.

Hifumi’s call for breakfast came just as Doppo had placed his bag and scarf by the door and his shoes in the entryway. The apartment was filled with the scent of breakfast cooking and the sharp tang of coffee by this point, and as Doppo sat at his place at the table, he could still hear food sizzling on the stove. Hifumi, too full of energy for any morning, was quick to set his plate and coffee in front of him, not even giving him time to protest the service before he slipped his way back to the kitchenette. 

Looking down, Doppo’s expression twisted, settling on the line between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. While it was not uncommon for Hifumi to baby him, particularly in times of stress, the tamagoyaki hearts and octopus shaped sausage were too much. They were a touch messy and uneven, but the effort was there, full of affection characteristic of Hifumi’s cooking. Apparently having run out of time, the added cherry tomatoes and bowl of miso soup were perfectly standard, but it didn’t detract from exactly how adorable his breakfast plate was. 

Then there was the coffee. That really did it, Doppo needing to bite his cheek in an attempt to not pick either of his potential expressions. The orange cat mug had once again made its appearance at a time of stress, one little paw raised. The pink paw pads had long faded, but he could still understand the gesture. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. Pat pat.’ Even with its nearly rubbed off expression, he remembered the benevolent face on the mug he’d broken. ‘Everything is going to be just fine.’ 

His eyes stung with the heat that built up behind them, his brain settling on tears as the correct response, but he quickly headed them off by taking a sip of his coffee, which was bitter and very hot. He reflexively stuck his tongue out. Hifumi laughed as he took a seat next to him. Notably, his plate’s tamagoyaki was not heart shaped, although the rest of his breakfast was the same as Doppo’s.

“Good morning, sleepy head! I know you need to wake up, but burning your tongue isn't the way to go.” Hifumi chided, although the lilt in his voice suggested he was teasing. Doppo scowled at him. Hifumi just laughed again. The table lapsed into comfortable silence as the two of them enjoyed their meal. 

Just about finished with his miso soup, Doppo saw Hifumi shift out of the corner of his eye. He peeked up curiously over the lip of his bowl and over to his roommate. Hifumi was staring at him-- not intensely, but watchful all the same, head tilted with cheek rested on a fist, eyes lazily scanning Doppo in his entirety. 

“You look nice.” Hifumi smiled, nose wrinkling in a way that spelled mischief. Doppo started, fumbling a bit with his bowl before managing to put it down on the table. He could feel the tops of his ears heat with embarrassment. 

“It’s not like I did anything.” And Doppo hadn’t, not really. He was just wearing some of his casual clothes. Or rather, clothes he usually reserved for being out and about with Mantenrou. Group image and all. He’d anticipated questions about it, but had not thought of answers. 

“It’s not like you needed to. But you’ve got work today.” Hifumi nodded surely, still smugly smirking. “What’s the occasion~? Tell me, tell me, tell me!” 

Just a new job, more work. But that would worry Hifumi more than any sort of lie he could cook up. 

“There isn’t any occasion!” Doppo protested, taking a defiant drink of his now much cooler coffee. 

“Are you going out tonight? Is that it? Or--” Hifumi gasped. “You have a date?!” 

“No--!” Doppo choked on his coffee, coughing his way through clearing his airways. Hifumi was kind enough to pat his back ineffectively. 

“It’s okay if you do! I mean, good for you!” 

It was hard to say what had changed on Hifumi’s face. Doppo had never claimed to be good at reading people, and although he was skilled in customer service, it wasn’t helpful in reading microexpressions. But there was something that had changed. Maybe it was a wrinkle on the forehead or a widening of the eyes, but it struck him as odd. 

“I don’t have a date, Hifumi.” Doppo ate the last of his cherry tomatoes and got up to clear his plate. “I would tell you if I did, I promise.” It was unlikely to happen any time in the future, but Hifumi would be the first to know. Doppo couldn’t imagine what kind of person would like a gloomy, useless sort of person like him. Maybe someone who appreciated a good doormat. 

“Oh!” Whatever had been in Hifumi’s expression had gone. “Ooooh! Right! You said someone said you were unfashionable.” He looked him over appraisingly again, this time intently. “I picked that sweater out for you, right? Looks like you didn’t throw out the important stuff!” 

Doppo hid how his blush crept onto his face by keeping his back to Hifumi, and his hands occupied by washing his dishes. “Yeah... something like that.” He mumbled. “I wouldn’t throw out your gift, anyway.” When Doppo was calm enough to turn back around, he noticed that Hifumi’s cheeks had become a little pink too. 

Maybe they needed to turn down their heater. The apartment was a bit warm. 

“You’re a real sap sometimes.” Hifumi sighed, shaking his head. “But that’s part of your charm.” Hifumi stood to clear his plates as well, brushing past Doppo to finish the breakfast dishes. 

There wasn’t a single thing Doppo’s mind could formulate as a response to that. 

“Isn’t it almost time for you to head out? You don’t want your dickhead boss to get on your case!” Hifumi’s comment both made him snort a laugh-- baldie did look like a dick head, if you thought about it-- and check the time. It was about seven. He would normally have to leave now to get to work ‘on time’ (read, early). No fudging that bit of their schedule. 

“I’m going to dry clean some things.” Doppo explained, backtracking back to his room. “Um.. a lot of things. So I’m using a suitcase.” He probably should have waited to be asked. Maybe Hifumi wouldn’t have commented. Or maybe he would have panicked like the day before. “Just so you know.” 

Hifumi peeked his head out of the kitchen to watch him drag the suitcase with him toward the door. His expression was a mix of confusion and amusement. “I’ve got to take my suits to the cleaners-- I can take your stuff too.” He offered. “Save you a trip!” 

Doppo quickly shook his head. “I’ve got it. It’s.. um. A lot.” 

“Then can you take mine? It’s only a couple!” Hifumi pressed his hands together in a pleading motion. “I was going to wake up early to drop them off!” 

Hifumi didn’t sleep enough as it was, at least in Doppo’s opinion. Working a night shift was difficult. Blackout curtains could only do so much when Hifumi preferred to be awake during the day. He also insisted on doing the grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry... that didn’t account for time dedicated to Mantenrou, either. Doppo frequently wondered how much of Hifumi’s shining face was pure determination, and how much was foundation. 

There was no way that Doppo was going to let him give up his precious rest time, especially because his lie meant he was ‘already going’ to do the errand he was going to wake up for. 

“...Yeah, okay.” Doppo folded faster than a lawn chair. One of those had collapsed under him once on a fishing trip and he’d fallen into the water. Had no time to react. He still folded faster than that.

“Thankee, Doppochin!” Hifumi rushed into his room, rustled around a bit, and returned with zippered suit bags draped over his arm. Suddenly Doppo felt sorry for his clothes in the suitcase. “Be careful with them, okay?” He waited for Doppo to hold out his arms, then dropped the suits into them. 

“‘Course.” Doppo would just... drape them over one arm, pull the suitcase on its wheels and also carry his satchel bag over his shoulder. Easy. At least it was easier than hauling his entire closet to Empty Candy. “I’ll be going now.” 

“Mm! Have a good day, take care!” Hifumi waved to him as he left, cargo balanced as best as he could, loafers on, and scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Doppo considered if he should add ‘pack mule’ to his resume in the future. Hifumi craned his neck to watch him go. 

------

Doppo ended up sitting in the Starbucks at the end of Takeshita Street for an hour. He’d tried Empty Candy, and, as he predicted, the bubbly business owner was not yet there by his arrival, likely taking his time and lazing in bed. Thankfully, a weekday morning meant it was a little quieter in Harajuku than at peak times, so he was able to tuck himself into a corner with whatever seasonal drink the barista had been pushing (Yuzu...Herb Tea Frappuccino or something? It sounded like something Hifumi would order) and stare off into the void for a bit. 

From what Jakurai had told him, spacing out like this could be either a good or bad sign of his mental health. Either he was decompressing, taking in his surroundings and grounding himself... or he was dissociating and completely abandoning reality as to not deal with it. It could go either way. Doppo couldn’t really decide which it felt more like, either, but it was a restful enough state to be in. An hour passed by quickly and unproductively, the serenity only broken by the anxious hands of his watch. 

He still ended up at Empty Candy a half hour early at 8:30, the door locked and the store still unlit. Doppo sighed, weighing both his options and the bags he was carrying. He’d really waited long enough, and half an hour before opening was bordering on late in most professions. He gave himself a second to further deliberate, then fished the key to the front door from his pocket, unlocking the entrance with a soft click.

The main floor, part design space, part meeting room, was completely silent and in the same state he’d seen it the night prior. Most of the light in the room came from the windows, casting a warm morning haze over drafting tables and brightly dressed mannequins. It was sleepy and comfortable, and Doppo felt jagged and loud as he tried to quietly pad across the floor. 

Louder than his loafers was the clink of dishes coming from further into the atelier. Doppo rolled his suitcase over to an empty spot on the drafting table, quietly laying Hifumi’s dry cleaning flat so as to not break the peace any more than he had. The clinking continued in different tones and volumes until there was a beep and the sound of steaming water. The scent of coffee drifted into the air. 

Upon investigation, there were black curtains at the back of the room over a doorway, light streaming out and across dressing room shadows from beneath the draped fabric. Doppo pushed through the door as unobtrusively as he could, one hand brushing the curtain away and his head dipping in a slight bow. He instinctively started to excuse his presence when he stopped mid sound, eyes alighting on the source of the noises-- the other room’s occupant, Amemura Ramuda. 

Now, his presence made sense. He was the owner. Looking around, Doppo saw a room with a kitchenette, some seating and a table. A break room, and Ramuda was making coffee. Yes, this was all right and understandable. What wasn’t was the state Ramuda was in. 

Doppo couldn’t say he’d ever seen the leader of Fling Posse as anything besides cute and put together, or an absolute mess and furious. This Ramuda was neither, his expression in a neutral frown and eyelids drooping, just a little. His hair wasn’t particularly styled, ruffled with bedhead instead of product, there was a shadow beneath his dazed eyes. His clothes too, were not the tailored suits or streetwear or fashion statements he preferred. Instead, he simply wore some slightly oversized navy sweatpants cinched at the waist and a Fling Posse-branded shirt that draped off one thin shoulder. His feet were bare. For whatever reason the only thought that went through Doppo’s head was that ‘his feet are tiny’. 

Doppo managed to shake himself off enough to clear his throat. “Sorry for intruding...” He murmured, unwilling to fully break the stillness in the air. 

Ramuda had no such qualms. He spun around quickly, eyes widening into something wild and frightened as he yelled his surprise. His voice, normally high pitched and almost squeaky, was lower than Doppo ever expected. Doppo froze, eyes widening in turn, hands flying up in front of him in surrender. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, Doppo frightened, Ramuda looking ready to tear his throat out. It took an even longer moment for either of them to start to relax, Ramuda’s hunched shoulders slowly lowering, his expression tightening into a scowl that Doppo was surprised didn’t kill him on sight. “Shit, I forgot you’d be here.” Ramuda grumbled, running a hand down his face. His tone remained low-- Doppo wondered if that was how his natural voice was, or if he was that sleepy. Either way, such a voice was jarring from Ramuda’s mouth, though that was more of how sincere it sounded, not the octave. 

“Ah. Sorry, I should have...!” Doppo quickly bowed, then bowed again. “My mistake!” 

Ramuda said nothing, leaving the room tense. Doppo apologized again. And again. Finally, Ramuda sighed, back to his cutesy dramatics, at least for the moment. “Ugh. That’s so annoying.” He chirped, turning to retrieve his mug and fill it with coffee. 

Doppo straightened up, brow furrowing in confusion at the same time that his face turned red in mortification. “Huh...?”

“The apologizing. Just say it once, if you mean it. You don’t have to bow, either.” Ramuda turned around to lean on the counter, then blew on his coffee. He took a sip of it black. The tip of his tongue shot out in pain, but he kept drinking regardless. He was smiling, but his eyes were just as sharp as he stared Doppo down. 

“But--” 

“Have some self respect. I can’t stand cowards.” 

“Sorry--” 

“No.” Ramuda cut him off. “I can’t stand people apologizing for their existence either. Shut up.” Doppo’s jaw clicked shut. 

Ramuda’s mug was set down on the counter with a quiet thump. Doppo’s eyes darted over. It had a pink bunny on it; as adorable as his usual persona. Sanrio? He didn’t know the character. He squinted a little to read the text around the bottom. Before he could make out the English block letters, his vision was filled with pink, Ramuda approaching him close. Too close. 

Doppo tipped his head down to look, bewildered. Ramuda moved fast. His new boss grabbed him by the collar and pulled, firmly putting Doppo at his eye level. Doppo swallowed, his heartbeat leaping into his throat. Ramuda seemed to enjoy calling him a dog, but at the moment he felt like a mouse under the paw of a cat. Neither of them said anything as Ramuda stared him down. The smile remained. 

“As of yesterday, you belong to me, Kannonzaka.” There was that tone again, although there was some attempt to pitch it to something childish. It sent a shiver down Doppo’s spine. “And no one who’s mine is going to be a little bitch apologizing left and right, got it?” 

Rebelliously, Doppo’s mind pulled up a past conversation where Ramuda had said Doppo was great for this assistant job because of his skills in apology. His mouth did not open to say so. He nodded. 

“Great. You don’t tell anyone about all this.” Ramuda gestured up and down to himself with an open hand. “In fact, you should forget about it! It’s for the best.” Doppo’s collar was released, and Ramuda went back to the coffee maker. He poured another mug, but went to fix it with milk and sugar this time. 

Doppo stood, heart hammering, breath coming in short, panicked bursts. He nodded again, quickly and with fervor. He suddenly could imagine what sort of man Jakurai had warned them about so many times. Ramuda was fierce enough at the Division Rap Battles, going after every insecurity he could dredge up, summoning illusions that both dazzled and disoriented, tearing and ripping down the opposition’s defenses in ways that crossed the line into meanspirited, particularly against Mantenrou. Off the stage, it seemed that he held the same startling duality: benevolent and sweet one moment, and ready to tear anyone down the next. 

While frightening, Doppo realized that he wasn’t actually daunted by it. He was used to executives with all of their promises and faint praise. Ramuda wasn’t any different, he would just have to learn to read between the lines, albeit in a different language. So long as there wasn’t a knife pulled or poison slipped into his drink, Doppo was sure he could figure out what made Ramuda tick. Or at least enough to know how to keep him happy.

“Buck up, Docchi! It’s a beautiful day in Harajuku, and we have real work to get started.” Ramuda was entirely full of cheer now, the intensity eased from his face, even if his smile was too tight. He pulled down another mug, poured some coffee into it and offered it to Doppo. It was white and orange, with another character on it. He couldn’t quite tell what the character was, actually, but he saw a little body and a little smile and a large, oddly shaped orange head with gray on top-- was it a piece of salmon. Was this a tiny grilled salmon person? Mascots were getting out of control. He decided it wasn’t worth it to ask. 

“Thanks.” Doppo had already had coffee that morning, then tea, but considering his previous work-life balance, it hardly mattered if he had more. He drank it, more to be polite than because he needed it. He hadn’t noticed the day before, but the coffee was pretty good. Nothing special, he was pretty sure Ramuda wouldn’t put in the effort to properly brew a pot, but he could tell the grounds were probably at least of decent quality. He smiled a little and continued his sipping. 

Ramuda left the break room and quickly went up some stairs as Doppo enjoyed his coffee, leaving him back in the quiet, which was quickly becoming filled with muffled activity from outside. Doppo had never been in the upstairs of Empty Candy, but he imagined it was offices or a private meeting space, as most second floors were. His mind stuttered to a stop as he started to actually process the facts of the moment. 

Why was Ramuda basically in sleep clothes at work? And barefoot at that. It made Doppo’s brain spin. 

Ramuda came back down shortly after, fingers combing through his hair. He was now clad in more usual attire, a button up and black jeans, his red ribbon loose around his neck, not yet tied. The shadows under his eyes had gone along with his messiness, and he had a spring in his step as he swept his way back into the break room. 

Doppo’s mind came to an abrupt halt in his speculations. Either he kept a change of clothes at work, and for some reason had slept there, or... 

“Amemura, do you live here!?” Ramuda looked up at him over his coffee, teal eyes wide and bright. 

“Hmm?” Ramuda tilted his head to the side. “I wonder.” He smiled and shrugged. 

“You’re as bad as Yumeno...” Doppo couldn’t help that his eyes rolled up in disbelief. Ramuda, thankfully, didn’t seem to take any of it as an insult. 

“Hehe~ He probably rubbed off on me, that’s true.” Ramuda put a finger to his lips in mock thought. “And if I did?” 

Doppo blinked. He had a point. Plenty of business owners lived above their shops or cafes. It just seemed odd. Ramuda was so metropolitan and it felt old fashioned to live where you worked. Ultimately, though, it wasn’t important if he did or not. 

“Oh, uh...” Doppo looked away bashfully. “Nothing. Just surprised.” Ramuda shrugged. 

“I can’t do any work without my supplies, duh. Bringing them all the way to another building would be a pain.” He said it as if it were extremely obvious and Doppo was oblivious. “I do have another place, but.” He left his sentence hanging, clearly with no intention to complete his thought. Doppo accepted this without fuss. Ramuda’s smile brightened a bit.

They both enjoyed their coffee. Doppo noted that Ramuda took three sugars and a generous splash of milk-- but he would also drink it black. That being said, he was almost certain he should never give Ramuda plain black coffee without being asked. He was supposed to forget that part. 

------

Thankfully, the rest of the morning was typical business proceedings. Doppo did his onboarding paperwork, set up automatic payment, was given a work laptop with his own email-- everything standard. There wasn’t an employee handbook, per se, but they did go over the paperwork they’d agreed upon at the cafe, set Doppo’s working hours, and negotiated how certain admin would be done; Doppo had a calendar for his own business that he could use to mention things ahead of time and schedule vacation, Ramuda had his own for the same, and then there was a joint one for office business, etc etc.

It was deeply relieving to be able to go through the tedium of learning the systems Empty Candy used, of scheduling time for digital trainings and the like. It was familiar and easy. He spent an hour and a half alone figuring out Ramuda’s file organization system, cautiously pleased that while it followed some sort of odd Amemura logic, it wasn’t hard to navigate. So long as everything went in its place, he did not foresee any problems. 

While Doppo was futzing with his computer, Ramuda did what Doppo had anticipated: gone through Doppo’s suitcase of clothes. The process was quicker and less stressful than before, Ramuda mostly humming tunelessly and nodding his approval and sometimes demanding Doppo try something on before ultimately still seeming pleased. 

“Hey, what are these?” Doppo turned his head to see Ramuda holding up one of Hifumi’s suit bags, the zipper pulled half down. This suit was gray and metallic gold with filigree on the collar.  “Didn’t take you as gaudy, though I could make it work...” 

Doppo blanched. “They’re Hifumi’s!” He blurted out. Ramuda laughed. 

“I dunno, it seems your size, about...Hmm.” Ramuda turned to the other bags, unzipping them to look. “You’d look good in red! Bring a little sparkle sparkle--” 

“No sparkle sparkle!” Doppo’s voice broke a bit. “They’re Hifumi’s! I’m getting them dry cleaned!” 

“Oh sure, great excuse.” Ramuda grinned back at him, sharp as a dagger. 

“It’s not an excuse!” Doppo may as well have been a squeaky-toy with how high that protest came out. 

Ramuda turned back to the suits and zipped them back up. “Well, duh. I’ve seen Hifumin wear these before.” He chastised. Since when was Ramuda on first name terms with Hifumi? Wait, no, Hifumin is what he had his clients call him. Ramuda probably picked it up somewhere, maybe from one of his own fangirls. Doppo slumped. 

“I designed the gray one.” 

Doppo’s head shot up at Ramuda’s casual comment. Today was just full of new information. He knew Hifumi bought Empty Candy off the rack occasionally, but a whole suit? He didn’t just go to a department store for that, he was picky, if not... well, ostentatious. “He got it here?” 

Ramuda gave him that ‘what, you don’t know’ look again. “No, he got it at a suit shop. Lots of places in Tokyo carry my stuff.” Doppo decided to look back at his laptop to avoid further embarrassment. Ramuda continued. “Go to the file marked distributors. There’ll be files for every shop that orders Empty Candy.”

Doppo clicked, and lo and behold there were hundreds of files. Some were marked as active, others as inactive, but the files went on and on, alphabetically, thank god. There was a separate one for foreign distributors too... France, America--?! Ramuda pointed over his shoulder at an inactive file. 

“See that? That means they ordered in the past, but haven’t for a while. Sometimes it means they were testing my products and didn’t reorder, sometimes it means they went out of business, sometimes they’re just waiting for a collection that fits their needs. The active ones are usually regulars. Some buy once a year, some buy with each season.” 

Doppo glanced up. “How do you keep track?” 

Ramuda pointed to the start menu, and then to a program that popped up. “We have an ECRM, you know how to use those, right?” Oh, now that was a word Doppo was familiar with. An Electronic Customer Relations Management System-- E.L. Medical Co. used one too, though it was a different software. They were all pretty similar, so with training, he’d get it. 

“Yes! I know how to use... well, not this one, but I know how to use them.” This seemed modern. E.L. used something that may as well be a fossil. 

“Alright, so...” A chiming alarm went off on Ramuda’s phone. He whipped it out of his pocket, mouth twisting in momentary annoyance. “I’ve got a meeting, sorry Docchi! I can explain later?” 

Doppo nodded. He could poke around and get the lay of the land in the meantime. 

“It’s lunch time anyway. Oh, I know! Go get a bite, take your man’s drycleaning to the wash--” 

Not his man. He almost said as much, but he just flushed instead.

“And you can take the rest of the day looking at the system and the Empty Candy website. You’ve gotta know the product!” On that, Doppo could agree. He was, apparently, not in sales anymore, but he was still an employee of the company. Possibly the only employee outside of Ramuda, now that he was looking. “Go home when you’re done, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” 

Doppo nodded, and Ramuda piped up one more time. “Oh! Yeah! Keep the key. I’m sleepy in the mornings, so if you wanna get work done...” Not that Doppo wanted a repeat of that morning, no way. “You can come in. Just stay downstairs, okay? I don’t need you in my bedroom.” Ramuda made a face of disgust. “And if you come in early, leave early unless I say. You need to rest off those eye bags.”

While it was rude, Doppo could agree to those terms-- though he was unlikely to leave early. What would he do with the extra time!? Hifumi wouldn’t be at work yet! 

“Seriously, don’t come upstairs. I’ll say if you can.” Ramuda seemed to be a man of privacy, he could respect that. Doppo nodded, earning a smile. “Good boy! See you tomorrow! Or maybe later today, if my meeting doesn’t go on long...” Ramuda was talking to himself now, pulling on his proper shoes and his usual teal sweater. The door chimed its closure behind him, and Doppo was left once again to the hum of Harajuku activity and nothing more.

----

The door chimed back open around two in the afternoon. Doppo had already taken lunch and dropped off drycleaning, and was knee deep in ECRM guides and Empty Candy press releases. He looked up, having stationed himself at a side table, and over to the entrance. So much for a meeting, Ramuda had only been gone... 

It wasn’t Ramuda at the door. Or anyone else he knew. Instead, it was a woman, tall, slim, and elegant, dressed in a skirt suit that was clearly tailored just for her. Her eyeliner was sharp, and her gaze was sharper. It contrasted with the baby blue of her clothes. She looked around the atelier, looking at each mannequin and photo on the wall critically before her eyes stopped on Doppo. 

Doppo stood quickly, bowing. “Welcome!” Ah, that was probably not the thing to say, was it? He didn’t know, Ramuda hadn’t said anything about handling customers or walk-ins or...

The woman’s expression didn’t change, watching him flounder. She was calculating, but not harsh, Doppo noticed. She was just... observing. “Is Ramuda-chan here?” Her voice was mature and smooth, difficult to read. 

“My apologies, Amemura just stepped out for a meeting...” Doppo watched the woman’s lips twitch down into a short frown before it calmed to pleasant neutrality. 

“I see. Could you take a message for me, then?” She stepped up closer to hand Doppo her business card, dipping her head slightly as she did so. Doppo’s heart lurched uncomfortably when he realized he had none to give in return. He accepted the card with a slightly lower bow. She did not comment on the lack of reciprocation. 

“O-of course.” Nothing else Doppo could do, after all. He managed to find a notepad and pen after a little scrounging in drawers. 

“Can you tell him that Eri Nakamoto was looking for him? It’s regarding the Sweet Cute Design Contest.” Doppo wrote it down as quickly as he could. Eri Nakamoto... Sweet Cute? What even was that? 

“Ms. Eri Nakamoto about the Sweet Cute Design Contest. I’ll make sure he knows.” Doppo nodded quickly to show his understanding and bowed. “Thank you for coming, I’m glad I could take your message!” 

From his bowed position, he heard an unexpected sound. A giggle. As he looked up, he saw that the woman, Eri, was smiling slightly. “Oh, you’re adorable.” She said, hand demurely covering her mouth. Doppo flushed. 

“Ah... that’s to say... Not really.” He stammered. She shook her head. 

“I was wondering if you’d be as cute in real life. When Ramuda-chan posted that he had a new assistant... I was skeptical. He’s always good at making things perfect for Instagram.” Wait. Instagram? What was this about Instagram? When did he sign off on being on social media?! Was that in the contract? Oh no, that was definitely in the contract. He would look later.

“I’m happy that I’m properly representing the brand.” Doppo managed lamely. He didn’t know what to feel, but his instinct was his usual: panic. 

“You’re doing great, sweetie.” Eri smiled again, her eyes not leaving Doppo as he internally floundered. Without further comment, she turned and left, door closing behind her. 

Doppo did not run to the paperwork, nor did he nearly knock down his laptop in his scramble. Certainly not. He would admit to tripping over himself a little, but to nothing else. Flipping through pages quickly, he found it wasn’t hard to locate what he was looking for. It wasn’t even in small print, laid out fully plain. A photography release. They’d glazed over it. Doppo had been so nervous about everything he hadn’t processed what that meant. Ramuda had full rights to use his image for social media and brand promotion. 

Speaking of... 

Doppo didn’t have an instagram. He didn’t see the point, and his phone wasn’t smart enough to run it. What would he use it for, liking Hifumi’s pictures? It wasn’t like he had anything to share. So, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of how it worked. The browser version was at least easy to bring up on Google, but the user interface was completely foreign. How was he supposed to look up anything with this? Did he need an account? 

He tried multiple things in the search bar: Empty Candy, Empty Candy Brand, Ramuda Amemura. Many things came up, though lots of them were posts about said search words. He tried again, but clicked the accounts button. There were a lot, some dedicated to Ramuda, some to Fling Posse, but at the very top, likely due to popularity, was Empty Candy Official. 

The most recent post that greeted him was his own face. ‘Everyone welcome Empty Candy’s new admin, Docchi! You may recognize him from Matenrou, but I guess he’s switched sides!’ It was the pictures Ramuda had taken of him in Empty Candy fashions, highlighting the neon decora colors and Harajuku street fare that Doppo had been forced into. 

Doppo’s face turned red with fury. He didn’t know what Ramuda was playing at, but Doppo hadn’t said this was okay. He hadn’t said anything about their teams or their relationship outside work, and he definitely didn’t say he liked those photos of himself. 

The rage drained quickly as he felt cold settle in his chest. Hifumi doubtlessly followed Empty Candy. He shopped from them. He kept up with fashion. How could he not?! Scenarios spiraled through his mind. Hifumi angry at his lies, or crying in distress. ‘Don’t you trust me, Doppo?’ Or maybe betrayal, ‘how could you go work for Fling Posse?!’, ‘You abandoned your other job?!’ And that was just if Hifumi found out. Jakurai... Jakurai, he couldn’t really imagine him angry in that way, but the disappointed expression was easy enough to picture. This was a worst case scenario in all ways. He had to talk to them before either found out this way!

But what would he say? What could he say? He had a feeling they would be proud he finally quit his job, neither of them liked that he stuck with it, but to work for Ramuda Amemura.... 

He felt sick to his stomach. He would have to find some way to bring it up. Explain the situation. Even if...Ramuda was already proving to be a scary boss. Even if he didn’t know anything about fashion. This job was what was immediately available, and not only did it pay better, but it seemed to have a more equitable contract than he’d received before. Also, he was qualified, he had the skills to do admin and help customers and everything Ramuda seemed to need. It was all professional. Nothing would interfere with personal life or rap or anything like that. 

Mantenrou had another lyrics meeting that weekend. Doppo wondered if he could bear the dread that long. Maybe he would just find a time to talk to Hifumi, then break it to Jakurai when they next saw him. That would require explaining twice, though. Doppo’s stomach twisted in knots. He was the worst. He hid things he shouldn’t have. He made rash decisions he shouldn’t have. This was the ultimate betrayal, putting himself under Ramuda’s thumb after Jakurai’s warnings. 

He sat in his chair, head in hands for a long time. He didn’t really get any other work done that day. 

---

The door opened again around four. It was Ramuda this time, although he was not alone. Doppo grimaced. Behind him, Dice Arisugawa was dogging his leader’s heels, chatting animatedly about something. Doppo caught the words ‘slots’ and ‘just one more round’. 

Doppo and Dice locked eyes once two-thirds of Fling Posse crossed the threshold. It was uncomfortable, and long. 

“Yahoo! Docchi, I’m back, and I’ve got Daisu!” As if Ramuda had to explain the grubby raccoon by his side. They continued to stare at each other. 

Dice broke the tension first, stunned silence turning into a toothy grin. Doppo expected it to be tight or forced. It did not seem to be. “What’s Mr. Office Worker doin’ here?” He asked, more toward Doppo himself than Ramuda. Ramuda answered anyway. 

“Hired him!” Ramuda chirped. Dice looked down at Ramuda, then up at Doppo, then down at Ramuda, then did a double take at Doppo anyway. 

“What?! Seriously?! You’re jokin’ man.”  Dice barked out a laugh of disbelief. When Ramuda did not say he was joking, he decided to focus on his leader in his shock. “...You’re jokin’, right? This guy? What for?” 

Doppo knew that Dice did not like him. Dice also knew Doppo did not like him. Still, it hurt to have why he was hired questioned. If nothing else, he was well qualified to be an assistant. Whatever kind Ramuda needed him to be. It was his pride as a professional, if nothing else. Doppo felt his lips moving before he knew he was talking. 

“Some of us have job experience.” He snapped. “I’m working. A job.” 

Dice twitched. “I’ve got lots of job experience, man. Just cause I don’t wanna limit my options don’t mean I don’t.” He crossed his arms, puffing out his chest as if to be more intimidating. It didn’t really work, not after seeing the terror that was Ramuda that morning. 

Ramuda interjected before the argument could start in earnest. “I needed an assistant! You and Gen are always telling me I work too hard!” He patted Dice’s arms, incrementally getting him to back down. “Who’s better than a professional doormat?” 

Again, that hurt. But he wasn’t wrong. Such cutting remarks. 

“Besides, he’s got all that business-y, technical knowledge that takes all my time up. I can design better if I’ve got someone managing the back end.” This seemed to make enough sense to Dice, who nodded along and returned to the sort of distracted, easy going look he always had. 

“So what happened to the other job?” Dice asked, not even really looking at Doppo or anything in particular. Dice was just as good at hurting him as Ramuda and Doppo was fairly sure he wasn’t trying. 

“Quit.” Doppo mumbled, turning back to his computer as if to return to work.

“Ha? Can you walk louder, man?” Dice was looking at him now. It was hard to say what the other man was feeling.

“I. Quit!” Doppo gritted his teeth. “My job was awful and stressful, and I was sick of it, so I quit, happy?!” His voice was probably the loudest sound from the atelier that day, outside of Ramuda’s surprised scream that morning. 

Dice blinked slowly. It reminded Doppo of a cat the same way Ramuda’s smiles did-- but this was softer, and promised less anxiety. Doppo squirmed at how weird it was. Dice then abuptly grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “Good for you! Shit, you shoulda done that a looooong time ago!”

Ugh. He didn’t want praise from this deadbeat gambler. But... it did sort of feel nice, to have his choice validated. Dice continued to talk.

“You were always going on about loyalty-- it was sad, y’know? You don’t owe loyalty to people who hurt you.” 

Much like the night before, Doppo found himself dazed at his comment. He was sure Jakurai had told him the same once, or Hifumi, or perhaps both, but hearing it from Dice made something in his brain short circuit. 

Because he was right. Dice Arisugawa was right for once. 

“Office Worker-- I mean, Assistant? I mean. Uh.” Dice looked to Ramuda for help. 

“Doppo.” 

“Doppo, right yeah. You okay? You weren’t there for a hot second.” Wasn’t he? Doppo didn’t know, he wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten back from where he’d been. 

“Uh... yeah.” Doppo ran a hand down his face, letting his hand cover his mouth. “‘Fine.” His voice was muffled. 

“Let’s leave him be! Dice and Me’ll be upstairs, so call if you need anything!” Ramuda started a skipping step toward the stairs, then stopped, looking at Doppo thoughtfully. “On second thought, you should go home. You look like you’re in shock or something.” 

Doppo nodded slowly. Between his churning thoughts about how to tell his team about his new job and the absolute surprise of Dice saying something profound, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to work now. “Oh! First!” Doppo managed to get his wits together enough to get the message and card Eri left. “This is for you. Someone came in while you were in your meeting!” 

Was it even a meeting? Dice was with him now, did he just go to hang out with friends instead of finishing Doppo’s training? That wouldn’t surprise Doppo one bit, but it also wasn’t his business if his boss wanted to spend his own company time with his team. 

“Heee?” Ramuda took the note from him, smile faltering before regaining its brightness. “Ah... Eri! Yeah, I forgot about this. Thanks, Docchi!” Ramuda hopped a bit to pat Doppo’s head. As if Doppo needed more to confuse his poor, fried brain. 

“Um... but what is...” Doppo began, but Ramuda flicked his hand at him.

“Shoo. Go home. Bye bye! Goooo!”  

Ramuda was impossible to argue with. Doppo decided that there were times to try, and times not to. This wasn’t worth it. He was barely able to say goodbye before Ramuda and Dice were up the stairs and gone. 

--- 

Doppo had hours before he could reasonably be home. The dry cleaning would be done by six, sure, but it was barely 4:15, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could return to Shinjuku-- and risk running into Hifumi on his way to work? He didn’t know if it was one of Hifumi’s early days, after all. He could stay in Shibuya, but he never spent any time there. What would he do with himself?  He could try another ward, maybe sit in Ueno park or, well, Yoyogi was just around the corner, wasn’t it? He could sit there instead. Much closer. 

He ruffled a hand through his hair, stressed. Was it going to be like this every day? Having more time than he knew what to do with? Mentally, he went through his normal weekly schedule. Usually he had weekends off, if he was lucky. Otherwise, Hifumi’s irregular schedule meant that his weekly days off weren’t always consistent. When they both had the day off, things could be normal. On Hifumi’s early work days, Doppo would have to leave early, but could come home after five, knowing Hifumi was in Kabukicho. On Hifumi’s usual days, he would have to leave early and go home early. 

That was assuming he didn’t find a way to explain the work situation, of course. A voice sounding like Jakurai supplied that ‘Things are solved best with direct communication.’ Not that the doctor took his own advice. He’d just started opening up to his team in earnest. 

It was difficult, though, for Doppo to say what he meant. His mind constantly thought through every reaction and scenario, looking for the best way to not upset anyone or to cause trouble. Telling Hifumi about his new position would surely do both of those things, and he didn’t want to see Hifumi angry or worried. The easiest way to avoid that would be to maintain his subterfuge, even if he suffered for it. 

Honestly, he strongly considered it while he aimlessly walked around Harajuku. It was feasible, just awful to deal with. He would be maintaining his ungodly work hours without needing to, without having anything to do. He was sure he would slip up eventually. He wasn’t that great of a liar, and who knew him better than his best friend who lived with him? Hifumi would be more upset if he found out elsewhere. And then there was that Instagram. How much could Doppo hope that Hifumi just missed that post? 

Doppo’s hands returned to his hair, ruffling and pulling slightly with stress. Why could he never just make up his mind about what to do? 

He needed... he needed a couple days. Then he was sure he could figure out what to say. If Hifumi hadn’t called or texted him yet, maybe that one post had gotten lost among the others. Yeah, that had to be the situation. It wasn’t like Doppo had an Instagram that Ramuda could have linked-- But his fans could have easily tagged the Mantenrou page! His mind spun again as he barely found a bench to sit on before he started to really go down that rabbit hole.  

Fuck. 

Doppo hung his head in defeat. It was just a matter of time before his cell rung off the hook. He could feel it. 

------

“Okay, I don’t think I’m crazy, but Doppo definitely had a Burberry scarf on this morning.” 

“Mm hm.” 

“Doc, I’m serious! I looked at the tag when he was doing dishes, and then when he was wearing it-- it’s not a knockoff, they’re really protective of their plaid and stuff.” 

“Right.” 

“So, what the heck?! Where did he get that!? Why? Wait, wait, did he get all in a knot from the fashion comment and buy a BURBERRY SCARF?! Like, I could afford one, but Doppo insisted we keep our bank accounts separate--”

“Which is sensible.” 

“So he definitely couldn’t get it for himself!” Hifumi gasped. “Oh my god, Doc. He was dressed all nice this morning! He said he didn’t have a date, but--” 

“Then, it is likely that he doesn’t, Hifumi.” 

“--What if he does . And he’s got a sugar mommy?!” Hifumi paused in his thoughts, hummed, then added. “Or a sugar daddy, Doppo’s never really shown any interest in girls, or whatever. I’m not gonna judge.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.

“Doc! Listen!” 

Jakurai sighed on his side of the phone. “Hifumi. I’m sure if anything important has come up, Doppo will tell us in his own time.” He soothed, only having half listened to Hifumi’s wild conjectures. He had client paperwork to fill out before his next appointment. 

“But--” 

“No ‘but’. If you’re worried about it, talk to him when you two have a moment. And I’m sure to notice anything strange at our next appointment.” 

“Well... alright. If you’re sure.” 

Chapter Text

Doppo’s cellphone, miraculously, stayed silent as the grave for the rest of the evening, save a text from Hifumi reminding him to eat. He was able to return home around seven, the most reasonable time for him to be home on a workday, to a quiet house and no questions. This should have been a relief, but it just weighed upon him like a looming threat, like he was getting away with something he never should have been able to.

Ultimately, he ended up eating reheated dinner and watching TV, as he usually did. Some variety show was playing, featuring apparently famous people he didn’t know and strange segments that were entertaining but difficult to parse the logic to. The typical for Tuesday night programming. Doppo couldn’t say that he really retained anything that he saw, it was just white noise to fill the space and bright, moving colors to make sure the entire apartment wasn’t still. Doppo was intent on staying curled on the couch until bedtime, thank you very much.

Sleepiness tried to grasp on to him at the beginning of a segment on ‘unique places you didn’t know about in Nagoya’. It didn’t seem like a boring topic or anything, but the exhaustion of existing was bone deep for Doppo, and he could feel it creeping into his mind. He shook his head and patted his cheeks. He couldn’t sleep on the couch, or he would hurt his back more than it already was. He glanced at the clock. He could go to bed, but his sleep schedule was messy enough without tucking himself in early.

If this was the problem he had for the evening, he would take it over anything more chaotic, but his indecision was strong as he continued not to move from the couch.

Unwilling to sleep on the couch, unwilling to get up, Doppo grabbed at his cellphone on the coffee table and committed himself to futzing with it. It was old, but functional, it still had some games on it, although no internet. There wasn’t much to do with it, unlike the shiny smartphones everyone else seemed to have, but he was attached to old reliable, even if he just needed to occupy his hands. Besides, he was actually rather good at Snake and Brickbreaker. Any other games compatible with his phone had long gone out of service-- he missed his virtual pets from time to time.

He played for a couple minutes tops, then his phone pinged with a message. Doppo’s heart flew into his throat as he scrambled to open it, dreading what might be inside. The tension only built when he saw that it was Hifumi.

[Hifumi] Are you home yet?

Doppo considered the message, then responded.

[Text] Yeah, a bit ago

Hifumi wasn’t in the habit of texting while at work. As a host, his entire job was talking and entertaining clients, so being on your cell was more than a little passe.

[Hifumi] Typing...

Doppo watched as the message loaded the little dots in one at a time, over and over. Whatever Hifumi was texting, it was long, needed rewriting multiple times, or a butt dial. They all were slightly concerning options. How would he have accidentally typed a whole, grammatically correct sentence? The message popped up after a few minutes.

[Hifumi] Great! I’m coming home a bit early
[Hifumi] Do we have time to watch a movie or something?

Early? Doppo typed furiously.

[Text] Yeah I’m not that sleepy

A blatant lie, but if he could spend some time with Hifumi, he wouldn't mind losing some shut eye.

[Text] Did something happen at work?
[Text] Are you okay?

Doppo paused, realizing how insane he was sounding. He allowed Hifumi to respond.

[Hifumi] Nah just a slow night
[Hifumi] I’ll be loaded up on Friday probably
[Hifumi] Worry wart!

Well excuse him for being concerned. Sometimes coming home early meant an incident with a stalker or something else horrific.

[Text] K. What movie? I’ll find it

Hifumi spent another couple minutes typing.

[Hifumi] That lawyer one! The cute one, something blonde? We got it from Tsutaya and never watched it.

They didn’t have too many DVDs, so Doppo was sure he could find it. In an era of streaming services, DVDs were pretty obsolete, honestly, but Doppo had a fondness for them. No need for the internet to say if you can watch the movie or not and all that. That’s why, when Hifumi had fished it from a sales bin on their trip to the book slash movie slash music second hand shop, he really hadn’t had anything to say about wastefulness. If Hifumi wanted it, it was probably worth having around.

[Text] I’ll look for it
[Hifumi] Kay!! See you soon!! (^0^)

Hifumi and Doppo’s common area was a comfortable kind of cluttered. Organized and definitely clean, Hifumi saw to that, but full of knick knacks and houseplants, throw pillows and blankets, just random day to day objects that proved that the apartment was actually lived in. Doppo was particularly proud of his plants, which were getting a dose of sun from the grow light he’d hung up, just to supplement the stormy weather they were having. Even from the couch he could see the monstera was beginning to put out a new leaf, bright green and small. He wondered if it would be fenestrated, or perhaps finally show some of that white color the cultivar promised. It would be at least a couple days before he could start to see. The leaf was curled up tightly, not unlike a bud.

Speaking of his plants, he would have to give some of them a sprinkle while looking for the movie.

With a small watering can he’d bought on impulse (he felt bad for spending the money, but it was just so adorable, a soft sage green), he topped off any soil he found to be too dry. The ZZ, while drought tolerant, needed a good water, and the pothos was just a bit too dry for his comfort. That got a sprinkle too. The succulents, he noted, were nearly due for a soak, but that would be a weekend task, not a... 8:27 PM one. Doppo gave a soft smile as he patted one of the leaves of an echeveria, reassuring it that water would be coming soon. He paused to shoot a short look of displeasure at a pot of African Violets, sighed, and went over to it too, giving it a little taste of water to dampen the topsoil. He’d just barely saved it from mealybugs the previous year, swooping in just in time to quarantine it from the other plants. The leaves were now bright and healthy, although some still showed a little damage-- but it hadn’t bloomed. Not once. It was a constant conundrum and problem child. Doppo didn’t know what he was doing wrong. African Violets bloomed frequently in warm conditions, and he and Hifumi certainly kept it warm.

Well, patience was needed, as it was with all plants. He had not had it long before it had been assaulted by the evil intruders.

Coincidentally, he also found the DVD stack near the violet pot. In the middle, about three down and topped with their favorites, was a pink case. Legally Blonde, it read along the edge, and as he pulled it out, there was a pretty blonde actress on the front. He should have known it would be an American film. Hifumi loved those. He flipped the case over to glance at the back. A fashionable college girl becoming a lawyer? No wonder Hifumi had picked it out. He may not have liked attention from women, but he was a sucker for a ‘girl power’ film. The screen served as a barrier, maybe.

Doppo returned to the couch, put the DVD on the table, and waited for Hifumi to get home. He had to restart his level of Snake, anyway.

Hifumi came through the door, jacket slung over his shoulder, a little over ten minutes later. Doppo had lost his game by then, and was trying hard not to be angry at his phone for having shitty buttons-- trying hard enough he didn’t notice the door, giving Hifumi the chance for mischief. Shoes left in the entryway and soft silk socks on the ‘hardwood’ floor (it was laminate), Hifumi was the picture of stealth as he crept up behind the couch, observing Doppo’s struggles with no little amount of fondness. He stood there for a second, waiting to be noticed. When he was not--

“Whatcha doing?”

“AGH-?!” Doppo nearly threw his phone into the air, fumbling with the little device until he was able to hold onto it securely once more. “HIFUMI!”

Hifumi cackled, resting his hands on Doppo’s shoulders, squeezing and digging his fingers into the tight muscle. Doppo shuttered.

“Hey, HEY, no-- You can’t just scare the shit out of me and get away with it-- Oh...” Damn Hifumi’s talented fingers. The startled anger fizzled out as Hifumi eased the stress from his shoulders.

“Relax, Doppochin! I just asked what you were doing!” Hifumi put his chin on top of Doppo’s head. Doppo twisted to bat him off, smacking Hifumi’s cheek without any real force. Hifumi laughed again, but did back off, rounding the corner to hop on the couch with him. Doppo felt Hifumi’s warmth before he really even saw him, the blonde having flopped his entire weight against his side.

“Someone’s clingy.” Doppo grumbled. He did not push Hifumi away.

“Mm.” Hifumi didn’t deign to justify himself whatsoever. “C’mon, I’m tired. Did you put on the movie yet?”

“You just got here!” Doppo shoved Hifumi with his shoulder, but Hifumi just bounced up, then returned to using Doppo as a full-body rest.

“Yeah, so the movie should be in.” Hifumi said and stuck his tongue out.

Doppo rolled his eyes. “It’s not. So let me up.” He shoved again. Hifumi let himself drape on the arm of the couch instead.

The DVD popped out of the case and into the old player without any fuss. Doppo had to blow some dust off the top and out of the tray just from it laying idle for a couple weeks, fingertips leaving lines of black on the now light gray surface. He turned around to reclaim his space on the couch. Hifumi was watching him again, the same as that morning, but didn’t say anything.

Doppo settled down on the cushions. “What?”

“What, what?” Hifumi shifted in order to lean up against Doppo’s side again, now that he’d returned.

“You’re looking at me weird.”

Hifumi rolled his eyes and snorted. “Nuh uh.”

“Don’t ‘nuh uh’ me, I saw you!” Doppo poked Hifumi’s upper arm in protest.

“It’s not weird! I can look at my best friend! Why are you bullying me?”

“Hifumi.”

Hifumi flung his arm over his forehead and leaned back against the couch, affronted. “I’m being bullied!”

“Hifumi.” Doppo shook his shoulder, trying to get his attention. Hifumi remained dramatically lamenting Doppo’s betrayal. “Okay, you weren’t looking at me weird. Can we watch the movie now?”

Hifumi perked up immediately, did a little hop to readjust his position on the couch, and nodded. “Yep! Hit play!”

The movie was fun, actually. Doppo wasn’t usually the sort to watch comedies, especially foreign ones-- the jokes went over his head way too often-- but the main character was charming and assertive, much like Hifumi was, and her determination to succeed in her goal was admirable. She was pretty too. It was sort of odd that she ended up using fashion and beauty knowledge to win a court case, but he wasn’t a lawyer, maybe those things came up from time to time.

Wasn’t Jakurai’s friend from Bad Ass Temple a lawyer? Maybe he could ask. No, that would be embarrassing.

Hifumi, sleepily leaning against Doppo’s shoulder yet still smiling like sunshine, seemed to agree with Doppo’s verdict about the movie as they talked about it. “I liked how she got her hairdresser’s dog back-- oh and she knew so much about fashion and stuff, and eventually it helped her out!” Hifumi nodded firmly, rubbing his cheek against Doppo’s shoulder with a yawn. “Maybe you should learn about fashion, I know lots.”

Doppo glanced down, eyebrow raised. That was a weird comment. Sure, he’d just started working in the fashion industry, but it isn’t like Hifumi knew that. Doppo was certain. Hifumi was too obvious to hide gossip he learned, he would have brought his new job up to tease him already if he’d found out. Again, his mind drifted to the catastrophe that loomed.

“Maybe. Come on, movie’s over. Bedtime for both of us.” Doppo attempted to stand up. Hifumi clung to his arm. Doppo gave a long suffering sigh. He grabbed Hifumi’s gripping arm and helped him up, all but dragging him to a stand. “You’re usually awake right now anyway, you can get to bed.”

“But comfy.” Hifumi pouted, pressing his forehead to Doppo’s shoulder.

“Your bed is comfy too. I’ve got work in the morning, Hifumi.” It wasn’t really that late, a bit after ten, but, again, they both were terrible at getting enough sleep.

“Fiiiine.” Hifumi begrudgingly let go and wandered a few steps toward the door to his room. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

That didn’t seem fair, Hifumi should sleep in, if he was able. “I can make myself breakfast, you know.”

Hifumi shrugged. “I know. But I like being up with you. Sleepy Doppo’s real cute.”

Doppo refused to acknowledge how his cheeks warmed with a blush. He rolled his eyes. “I’m a mess in the morning... Not that I’m not a mess all the time.” He shook his head. “Just go to bed and get some sleep.”

“And I’ll see you in the morning.”

“And you’ll see me in the morning.” Hifumi smiled in sleepy triumph and bid him goodnight. Doppo waved to him until Hifumi’s door closed, then retreated to his room. The plan was to try and sleep, but he had a feeling he would mostly be worrying instead.

------

The next morning, Hifumi commented on Doppo’s clothes. And the next morning. And the next morning. He probably should have been getting suspicious, or at have a couple of questions, but he just had positive comments about his new clothing and sent him off to work (a tad too early for his current position) with a smile. It made Doppo relax and worry in equal measures. He was terrible at hiding things from Hifumi, but this was too easy.

Maybe he really wasn’t letting on about the change in his work situation-- he had plenty of generic gripes to bring up about Ramuda’s manufacturer database, about fielding business calls, about trying desperately to manage a difficult to wrangle boss-- or maybe Hifumi just didn’t care to look into anything weird he noticed. Regardless, things were too normal.

It couldn’t last. Friday came around, and Ramuda pulled him from his spreadsheets with a deeply self-satisfied smirk.

“I’ve got an important task for you, Docchi.” Ramuda put his hand on his hip casually, and led Doppo away from the front desk and over to his own little work space. Doppo looked back to his computer. He’d already been doing something important. He wasn’t an accountant, but he had to get this data into excel so he could have some sort of process to parse through the load of purchase orders.

Ramuda ripped a note from a pad on his desk and handed it to him. An address? A chill went down Doppo’s spine. He hadn’t been there even a week, and Ramuda was already bringing him into something shady?

“Go pick up some catering, kay?”

What? Oh. That was very normal.

“Catering for what?” Doppo looked at the address, it wasn’t too far away. He hadn’t seen an event on the calender, but he knew Ramuda wasn’t exactly used to sharing his schedule with others.

“I didn’t say? We’re having a little hiring get together!”

Doppo tilted his head. He was thinking of hiring more people? That probably would be for the best-- Doppo kept having to split his work between sales, accounting, customer service, and letting Ramuda push him around. (Thankfully, so far it was mostly making him coffee, getting him snacks. He could imagine that it was going to get more wild with time. Even getting snacks had sent Doppo to three different shops to find a particular brand of gummy.)

“Um... sure. Another employee?” He wondered what kind of person Ramuda would be looking for. Doppo himself seemed to have been hired on a whim.

“Nah, contractors.” Ah, so it was more of meeting the people who submitted bids. There were plenty of things Empty Candy needed that a good contractor could get done. “Spring collection preview for potential partnerships and all that.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Do I need to set anything up...?”

Ramuda shook his head. “I’ve got it! Go, go, it’s ready! Don’t want it to get stale.” Doppo left as he was shooed, grabbing his bag just in case.

The caterer was two stops over in Aoyama-itchome, operating in a kitchen shared by a cafe-lunch spot. There were two large boxes, although nothing he couldn’t handle, and one of the catering staff walked him through the inventory list and told him what sauce went with what. It seemed that Ramuda had gone for some light finger foods of the sort he often saw at corporate events, although one box was heavier and contained some lunch wraps.

All accounted for, he just had to ride the train back with his packages, and set up the food wherever Ramuda wanted it.

Ramuda had not done much to his main floor in the hour Doppo was gone. Any tables that could be moved to the side were (he hadn’t realized that a good deal of them could fold up and roll), and Ramuda was actively setting up some lighting near the dressing rooms, right in front of a white drop-screen. For photography, maybe, though Doppo couldn’t understand why that might be.

Ramuda waved at him with a cheerful smile, and instructed him how to lay out the food on a side table, wandering over a couple times to make an aesthetic adjustment or two. Who was Doppo to make any artistic choices? It wasn’t as if he had talent with making things look pretty. That was Hifumi’s department.

Ramuda spoke up from where he was adjusting a light filter, quite out of nowhere. “What type of girl do you like, Docchi?” Doppo clumsily put the paper plates on the table, face scrunched up as he fought against surprised fumbling. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“Excuse me?”

Ramuda smiled innocently, and didn’t even look over. “What kind of girl do you like? Blondes? Brunettes? Tall? Short? Skinny? Curvy?”

Doppo wasn’t sure if this counted as harassment, but it felt like that. “I-- I’m not going to-- why are you even asking?”

“Need to know your bias. You’re gonna help me out with this, right?” Doppo didn’t know what this was, but he was going to find out, and he already didn’t like it.

Ramuda glanced up, smile growing in amusement at the beet red of Doppo’s face. “Or, y’know, even if you don’t like girls, you know which ones you think are prettiest, I’m sure!”

Hard to know what to say to that. Doppo was usually too overworked to think about something personal like sexuality, but Ramuda was right, he could at least tell who he thought was pretty and not.

“I’m gonna guess blonde... and tall. With a nice smile.” Apparently Ramuda already knew what Doppo’s answer would be. Doppo would have needed to think about it, but Ramuda was right before he could even answer.

“I... guess?” He thought back to the actress in the movie from earlier that week. She was awfully cute, though Doppo didn’t really have more of an opinion on her.

“I’m always right!” Ramuda chirped. “I like them tall too. Though I prefer dark hair...”
Idly, Doppo wondered how tall was ‘tall’ for Ramuda. Anyone over... what, 150 centimeters? Would be taller than he was. Most guys didn’t really like being shorter than their girlfriend, but with Ramuda’s cutesy image, he didn’t seem very worried about having a masculine appearance.

“Can’t just hire tall ones, though!”

Doppo finally decided to ask. “What are you hiring for?”

“Models, of course!”

Arranging little canapes was abandoned to gape at Ramuda. Fashion did mean models-- Doppo just didn’t expect to be having an event for them. It hadn’t even been a week, he hadn’t even learned all of the systems yet.

“Models?!”

“Yep, about twenty of them! In... an hour?” Doppo suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. His outfit was alright to meet models, wasn’t it? Ah, he was a total mess, they would make fun of him, he was ugly anyway and--

“Earth to Doppo!” Ramuda snapped his fingers a couple of times to get his attention. “I asked you a question!”

He did? Doppo had been so deep in his self-loathing he hadn’t heard.

“I was asking if your taste in guys was the same? Male models are coming too.”

Doppo thought about it, awkwardly nodded, then hid himself in further fussing with catering. Ramuda grinned knowingly at him. He continued to chatter about something, but Doppo was having a hard time listening with how high his anxiety crept.

“...Diverse group, y’know?” Doppo did not know, but nodded. Twenty. That was a lot of people for a small space.

“...Outside the box! Gender’s about presentation--” Would they all fit? Twenty models. All perfect muscles and teeth and hair.

“...Know that. Hifumin’s pretty androgynous--” He would be devoured whole.

“...Want your opinion, so don’t be shy!”

“Huh?” Doppo blinked owlishly. Ramuda had moved to changing some of the mannequins outfits, but was still talking to him. He pouted.

“You’re not listening. I said that I want your opinion on which models would be good for the spring set.”

Doppo remembered being shown the flats of those, drawings of loosely fitting linen and bright colors that mimicked the blooming of flowers. He was sure they’d be nice on anyone. There had been a ruffled top with pink embroidery that he’d thought Hifumi would especially like.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any help.” Doppo shook his head, finally leaving the snack table alone. “I’m not fashionable or anything.”

“I don’t want your opinion on fashionable. I want your opinion on who’ll do the best with the set.” Wasn’t that the same thing?

Ramuda followed him to the front, pulling a mannequin with him. “Look.” Doppo was looking. It was a nice streetwear set. There were yellow pawprints on the hoodie that were tearing lines down the white fabric, as if a cat was climbing up the mannequin’s chest. There was a silhouette of a cat on the leg of the sweatpants. What was such a sporty look doing, being so cute?

“Who do you think would wear this?”

Doppo stared at the outfit for a moment, pondering what the right answer was. It had to be designed with someone in mind. “Um. Someone in a hip hop group?” Ramuda waited. He was wrong, apparently. “Like a girls hip hop group?”

“Buu buu!” Ramuda crossed his arms in an ‘X’, denying his answer. “Try again!”

“Someone who plays sports?”

“Try again!”

“Um.” He thought hard. “The youngest Buster Bro? Saburo. Him.”

Ramuda laughed. “Oooh, maybe! I should ask. But nope! Wanna know the answer?”

Doppo nodded. He didn’t like guessing games and he wasn’t sure if he could ever answer right.

“It’s whoever likes it.”

That was a trick question. Ramuda was just making fun of him again. Doppo slumped. “...Right.”

“No, no, hear me out.” Ramuda tipped his head up to look back at the outfit. “Not in this size always, obviously, but the person who wears this should be comfortable in it! They should like how it looks, how it feels, they should like the person they are when they’re wearing it!” Ramuda smiled without the edge that Doppo usually sensed. It was actually cute.

“So it doesn’t matter what kind of person they are. What their gender is, how tall they are, their weight-- it all doesn’t matter. What I’m looking for is if this is a person who will like the outfit.”
That didn’t answer why Ramuda wanted Doppo’s opinion, though, and he said as much.

“Well, you’re good at reading people, aren’t you?” Ramuda tapped a finger against his cheek. “Anxious people usually are. Besides, I just want your opinion. It’s not like you’re calling the shots.”

Doppo had never thought of himself as ‘good at reading people’. He could read the room, that was a survival skill, and he could read people’s expressions, again, a survival skill, but reading people? Was he good at judging character? He really didn’t know. “I’ll... do my best.”

“Great! Now help me dress the rest of the mannequins. We’ve gotta get them out of store-stock and into Spring Style!”

-----

An hour passed quickly and in a rush of dressing and fussing. Ramuda didn’t seem to like any of the ways Doppo put clothes in the mannequins and basically redid any work that he had done. Doppo couldn’t see the difference between how he’d put that skirt on the form and how Ramuda had, but Ramuda was the boss, and Doppo wasn’t the sort to ask too many questions. Maybe it was how a pleat folded, or the exact position of a zipper pull.

Regardless, one pm rolled around to a toe tapping, agitated Amemura who was still trying his damnedest to get a beret to sit right on a hat stand. Doppo tried to make himself scarce by checking some last minute emails and being out of his way, half hiding behind the computer monitor. It worked as long as it needed to.

The bell on the door chimed as the first person entered. All things considered, they were exactly what Doppo had expected. Tall, lean. Perfectly done makeup and flattering, loose fitting clothes. Straight dark hair, though it was in an odd cut, shaved off on one side, long on the other, too modern and avant-garde for Doppo’s circles (if he even had those). Doppo quickly stood straight to bow and politely greet them with a chirped ‘welcome!’. The person gave him a smile that was both warm and intimidating. Somehow. The crinkle of the eyes and the twist of the lip. Doppo swallowed.

The tension and anxiety Ramuda had been wrapped up in melted away in a second, eyes lighting up bright as he launched himself toward the new arrival. “Tomoe! You’re here! Hi!” He cheered, stopping just short of bodily tackling Tomoe. Instead he schooled his expression into what could pass as serious and extended a hand, clearing his throat. “Noguchi. Always a pleasure.”

Tomoe snorted a completely undignified laugh and similarly schooled their expression into seriousness. “Amemura.” They took Ramuda’s hand, and shook it. Ramuda burst out laughing and latched onto them in a hug instead, which was returned loosely with a lanky arm around his shoulders.

“Doppo, come and meet one of our models! This is Tomoe Noguchi!” Ramuda waved a hand over Tomoe’s shoulder to beacon Doppo over. Doppo complied with a panicked little dip of his head, shuffling out from behind the computer to join them on the main floor.

“Doppo Kannonzaka. It’s good to meet you!” He bowed again in a jittery manner, which Tomoe returned after releasing Ramuda from their grip.

“Nice to meet you. You’re from Mantenrou, yeah?” Tomoe smiled as Doppo turned a shade of red. How did all of Ramuda’s friends know who he was?

“You’re the one with the crazy metal scream. How do you do it? Does that not wreck your voice?” Doppo turned redder and stuttered a couple of nonsense words before he stopped. He expected them to continue on with talking to Ramuda, but when they didn’t, he realized that they were seriously wondering. Doppo swallowed and collected himself.

He didn’t really have an answer. Honestly it wasn’t something that came out in practice, and if it wasn’t so effective on the rap stage, he didn’t think he could ever be that loud without dying of embarrassment.

“Rage?” Not really any other explanation available, unless he decided to go down the rabbit hole of everything that was wrong with society, himself, and the state of the universe.“And lots of tea?” Hifumi did make him honey-lemon tea after matches most of the time, and if he didn’t, Jakurai gave him a lozenge.

Tomoe nodded. “Cool, cool. That’s sick.”

Oh. Doppo didn’t know how to respond to that. Would his blood vessels burst if he blushed harder? He hoped not. He squeaked a thank you. It took all his willpower to do so.

“Is Ashina coming?” Tomoe walked past Ramuda and Doppo into the main floor of the room, pausing briefly to consider the snacks laid on the table.

“She should be! We’re going to have words otherwise.” Ramuda hopped up to sit on the front desk, kicking his legs to wiggle in place. “I basically designed that tennis skirt for her. How am I going to show it off if its model doesn’t bother to show?” He lifted a foot to point to a mannequin. Doppo recognized it as one of the ‘plus-sized’ models he’d had to drag in while Ramuda busied himself with acrylic hat-stands. It was dressed smartly in a yellow and blue tennis set, visor and all, with white accents. Sky blue and buttercup yellow, if he asked Hifumi. Like a spring day.

“Did she do her puppy eyes to get you to make a sports line, or what? Can’t say I ever saw you making tennis outfits.” Tomoe turned toward the dressed mannequin, stepping up to carefully feel the fabric and inspect the embroidered accents. Ramuda made a noncommittal hum.

“She asked really nicely.”

Doppo couldn’t help a grimace, giving Ramuda a brief look of disbelief. “Do you... often design things for your models?” It didn’t seem like a very solid business practice. To his understanding, Empty Candy may have not been the biggest brand, but it was still for purchase at a store. Did Ramuda even do custom commissions?

What was he saying, of course he did. He made his team new outfits all the time. It wouldn’t be a stretch for some pretty girl to ask ‘please’ and for Ramuda to whip himself up into a frenzy making a design. But still, a whole piece for a collection...

“I wouldn’t say ‘often’. But I was wanting to do something sporty anyway. It was just... much needed inspiration.” Sure, and it had nothing to do with wanting to dress girls in cute tennis outfits. Doppo wondered, briefly, if that was perverted or just Ramuda’s deep love of ‘cute’.

Doppo couldn’t say he knew Ramuda well enough to say either way, now that he thought of it. What sort of person was his new boss? He thought in such different ways that Doppo had a hard time following... But then again, so far he’d been nothing but benevolent, if not mischievous. Jakurai’s warnings about Ramuda’s being dangerous-- being somehow malicious-- he couldn’t see it. Not yet, anyway.

The bell on the door rang several times more as a group of people shouldered their way in. Some were what Doppo would expect of a model. Petite woman with neat black hair dressed and accessorized to perfection. Most, however, were diverse with a range of skin tones, a range of builds and heights, of masculinity and femininity. One model rolled in on a wheelchair, spinning her wheels while her friend helped steer. Ramuda wrapped her in an excited hug, nearly bowling the chair over with the woman in it. The model just caught him, as if used to it, and let him rebound off to hug another.

Doppo did his best to keep up. Bows here and there with frantic ‘welcomes’ and directing to the snacks, the bathrooms, the sample collection lined up against the wall. Ramuda didn’t help him an inch, bouncing from one person to another in greeting, then flitting off to talk to someone else in the next breath. Ink started to smear on Doppo’s fingers from how quickly he signed the flood of people in. Logically, he knew there was going to be only twenty people, but with the small space and how quickly one after another people came through the door, the atelier was bustling and noisy in no time with people talking to each other, snacking and perusing the spring line up.

He took a moment to survey the room, taking note of what the models were engaging with, which drew each of their eyes. It was a practice he was used to at trade shows, looking for customers who might want or need-- this monitoring machine or that centrifuge-- what was on offer from the E.L. Medical at that time. What was of interest could tell you a lot about a customer. Price range, needed functionality, aesthetic choices. In terms of sales, it could allow a representative to approach with appropriate options, answer possible questions.

Doppo found himself realizing that the same could be said here, almost instinctively gleaning information from the room. One of the petite women from before seemed torn between a conventional style of ruffles and faux pearl details and a brightly colored dress with matching platform sneakers, both decorated with sunflowers. Such a person was comfortable with the conventional, but wanted to strike out to something with more interest. She would probably like an outfit that was a happy medium.

A man was arguing with a fellow model, gesturing to a multi layered skirt with excitement and giving them a flat look when the other model pointed to a pair of pants. Clearly someone who was unconcerned with things like gendered fashion norms and more focused on what they found aesthetically interesting.

The model using the wheelchair was considering a pair of chunky shoes, covered with pink embellishments and bows. Ramuda hopped up to her to show her the matching outfit and, notably, the snapping buttons in the front. She was someone who cared about her style but required accessibility in the design. Doppo couldn’t say he knew anything about what wheelchair users needed for their clothes, but by how she brightened up, Ramuda clearly had put the work in.

The tennis outfit from before was, predictably, being fawned over by someone who had to be Ashina, a broad and athletic woman of a bigger size wearing a daisy patterned clip in her hair. She pulled Ramuda over to the display, brightly complimenting him with a hug and a lift-- Ramuda laughed in delight-- then proceeded to point at some things on the skirt. Ramuda’s expression sobered a bit as he took out a pad and pen to write down notes.

Doppo startled from his focus as he was tapped on the shoulder. Spinning around, he came face to face with Tomoe, who looked maybe a touch too pleased with themself for scaring him so badly. “Mx. Noguchi! Can I help you?” Maybe they needed to know where the bathroom was. Or was there not a snack to their liking?

“Yeah.” Tomoe gave him a smile and inclined their head toward the mannequins displayed. “Think you can help me find something I’d look good in? I don’t usually go for... y'know. Pastels and florals-- don’t know if I’d be a good fit for this collection.”

Doppo blanched, the flustered flush draining from his face. Why were they asking him? Ramuda was right there--

“Ramuda’s busy. Let’s see if there’s anything I can work with. I’m sure you have a good eye. ” Doppo doubted that deeply, but he couldn’t say no, could he? Wait, was it that obvious what he’d been thinking? Maybe he’d looked over to his boss without thinking.

“I can try.” Doppo fidgeted with his clipboard. “What do you usually look for? Is there anything you want to avoid?” Those seemed like sensible questions. He asked them of many people when selling medical devices. Tomoe hummed in thought.

“Nothing too cutesy.” This was Empty Candy, that was Ramuda’s entire thing, right?! Then again, he’d designed a suit Hifumi owned and he’d seen Fling Posse’s myriad outfits. Clearly he could do other things. This was a spring collection though, most of it was flowers and light colors. “Willing to try anything, though. Just no ruffles.” Doppo could work with no ruffles. He looked around the room at each outfit.

Nothing really was standing out for someone like Tomoe. They seemed practical, and had that tall, willowy frame that could make even perfectly fitting clothes seem too short or too baggy. (He’d witnessed poor Jakurai trying to shop for clothing. Actually, speaking of Jakurai--)

He took a second to consider. Tomoe wasn’t quite Jakurai height, and their shoulders weren’t as broad, but maybe he could apply some of what he knew from Mantenrou shopping days to help. Long legs, so high waist. Skinnier legs on the pants. Nothing too bulky for a top, because then it would just look off. Jakurai always seemed to favor sleeker silhouettes-- had Hifumi rubbed off on him at some point? He wasn’t sure when he’d learned this kind of thing.

There wasn’t any one outfit that would fit the bill. But there was a lace-patterned white top on one mannequin and some black or maybe dark grey jeans on another. The top was originally with a deep pink skirt and the jeans with a brightly patterned crop top, but together--then if they took those lavender heels from the billowy white dress...

Doppo made a face, unsure. He hadn’t seen them together, so it’s not like he even had an idea of if it would look good. But Tomoe was there waiting for a verdict. He took a deep breath, glancing toward Ramuda, who was definitely busy measuring one of the models for some reason. Maybe he should just say they should wait for Ramuda. Whatever he’d thought surely wouldn’t be good enough, wouldn’t be anything like what Tomoe wanted.

Still. They were waiting. Doppo pointed out what he’d seen. “I don’t know if you would want accessories or...”

Tomoe’s face lit up, nodding along between each selection. “No, no, I can see it. It’s sort of goth for spring, but... no, that could work.” They walked over to a box of displayed accessories, looking intently at each. “With the heels as a pop of color, maybe a bag, some dangly earrings...” They nodded solidly. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe.”

Doppo watched them, perplexed as they then approached Ramuda, pointing insistently at the pieces and, while Doppo could not hear through the loud conversation, was clearly explaining Doppo’s fashion pitch. He braced himself for rejection, or a glare, but Ramuda just looked at him with an appraising look, smiled, then nodded enthusiastically, following Tomoe back over to the accessory box to hold up various earrings next to their face.

He was stunned that had worked. It wasn’t like he knew anything about fashion-- what’s trendy, what’s not, what fabrics are good for what, what cuts look good on who and what have you-- but somehow, he’d made a good outfit choice? He’d honestly just used what he knew: sales and things that Hifumi babbled about and Doppo apparently internalized.

Doppo wasn’t sure what to make of that. But Tomoe looked happy, and Ramuda looked happy. So clearly he’d done something good.

His eyes wandered over the outfits again. This person was interested in the sheer things, that one wanted something standout. He paused on a floral shirt, dusky pink roses and petals printed on the fabric, a lace bow tied around the collar. Immediately his mind went to Hifumi, and how the loose sleeves would look on him, how cute it would be. Maybe under a flowering tree? Maybe walking through Shinjuku National Park... Doppo rubbed his face, trying to clear the heat that had risen to his cheeks. Not the time for those thoughts. Never the time for those thoughts.

Though, those tan pleated pants would--

Doppo turned quickly on his heel to go fidget with the snack display. He needed something else to do, before he started picking out matching shoes.

------

The gathering wound down slowly, each person leaving at their own pace. Tomoe left after receiving a phone call and bending down for Ramuda to give them a kiss on the cheek. Ashina said she was going to leave, then lingered to chat for at least another half hour before motivating herself to head out.

Doppo quietly began to clean up bit by bit, following the group of people as it migrated closer and closer to the front door. Most of the food had been, thankfully, eaten, but the last few wraps and cookies were only a plate’s worth. He could put it in the fridge for later, if Ramuda wanted it, and if not, maybe he could have it for lunch the next day.

In the back of his mind, his old boss scolded him for being presumptuous. The food had been bought on company money, and was not for him, after all. Knowing Ramuda’s reaction to his avoidance of snacks at the cafe, though, he doubted thoroughly that Ramuda thought the same way. Still, he would certainly ask before making assumptions.

Empty Candy was mostly, well, empty, once Doppo wrapped up the food and straightened out the displays. Only himself, Ramuda, and a couple of models remained, the latter parties chattering amiably at the front desk with no indication of their conversation being at an end. Ramuda waved him over, having seen Doppo fidgeting awkwardly in the back of the shop. Doppo came when bid-- not beating the dog allegations, he realized.

“We’re going to get some drinks tonight! You want to come?” Ramuda beamed, gesturing between himself and his two companions. “Gotta celebrate a successful business meeting!” That was what Ramuda considered a meeting? Doppo looks back toward the last traces of the event behind him. Was that not basically a party already?

Doppo was sort of frightened to find out what Ramuda considered ‘celebrating’, if that was the case. “Uh...”

“I was thinking of inviting Gen-chan and Daisu, and some of the other models. Make a night out of it! They owe me for ditching me that one time.”

Wait, no, he was already intimidated. While Arisugawa had proven himself... to not be a complete asshole, Yumeno was confusing and weirdly frightening. What was he going to do, though? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go drinking that night. But this was an invitation from his boss. But it was terrifying to go out with, frankly, gorgeous people and do something that was probably glamorous and far, far too out of his league. But he wasn’t sure what would happen if he offended Ramuda. But--

The spiral was too difficult to escape. Ramuda’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but for once, Doppo spoke up over him.

“Yes! Thank you for considering me!” Doppo bowed deeply, eyes squeezed shut. The threat of messing up in his brand-new position was nothing in face of being a wet blanket among glittering stars. He glanced up to see a strange expression on Ramuda’s face, lips twisted and brow furrowed. It vanished in a blink.

“Okay then!” Ramuda clapped his hands together. “We’ll all go after work at 5, okay? Meet up at Shibuya Station? Or, oh, Docchi, do you know any good izakaya in Shinjuku, maybe?” Panic rose back up in Doppo’s heart. No, nope, not going near Shinjuku. There was no way. They probably wouldn’t go to Fragrance, sure, but there were plenty of ways he could get found out. Jakurai could be taking a stroll. Hifumi could be accompanying guests. He shook his head vigorously.

“Shibuya it is. Let’s say 5:30 at the Hachiko gate?” Ramuda giggled, possibly at his expense, possibly just because it sounded cute to do. Doppo swallowed thickly. The models agreed to the time and place, bowing politely as they made their leave, Doppo bowing after them. Ramuda just waved cheerfully, without a care for decorum. The Fling Posse leader never seemed to operate by society’s rules anyway, so why would he now?
Doppo released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, body sagging in relief as Empty Candy went quiet. One step at a time. He’d survived the models at the preview event. It was just the ‘going out to drink’ portion of business relations that came next. Even if it was with... models, he could handle that. How would it be different than any other drinking party?

He turned, centering himself with the intent to return to cleaning up, then responding to emails, finishing out the workday with something mundane and soothing before he had face the social rigors of the drinking party. Doppo startled when the space behind him that he had thought was empty was instead filled with Ramuda, who was looking up at him with pursed lips and an intent stare. Doppo stepped back, putting some distance between the two of them, partially for his own comfort, partially so Ramuda would not have to crane his neck looking straight up. When neither of them spoke after a beat, Doppo cleared his throat. “Excuse me--” He moved to side step around Ramuda. While Ramuda did not move, Doppo found that he still did not successfully get out of the path of his gaze.

“Not excused.” Ramuda chirped, straddling that line between intimidating and cute as ever. “Tonight-- Do you want to come?”

Doppo stilled, considering the question. It was the same question he’d been asked, but it wasn’t. Did he want to go out drinking? No. Had he been invited so he said yes because that’s what you did unless you had a good excuse? Yes. He shifted his weight on his feet from side to side. “I said I did...”

Ramuda continued watching him for a moment longer, then sighed, shrugging and heading back into the main room of the atelier. “If you say so?” Doppo wondered why that was framed like a question too.

The topic was, apparently, being dropped, as neither of them said anything more about it as they went about the rest of the day. Ramuda returned to his furious typing on his laptop and almost aggressive strokes of stylus on tablet, and Doppo did his admin duties. Every so often Doppo would glance over his screen to Ramuda, body tense with the anxiety of feeling like he’d missed something.

---

Despite being early, Doppo was surprised to see that he and Ramuda, fresh from locking up the shop, were not the first ones to Hachiko square-- in terms of their party, of course, the Shibuya Crossing was as nightmarishly packed as ever. Among the milling tourists and everyday Tokyo urbanites was Yumeno Gentaro, leaning as if posing, against the of the rails near the Hachiko statue, one arm bent for stability, the other holding a book open, pinky on one page and thumb on the other. His head was bent slightly to read, but his eyes flicked up every once in a while, vigilant.

The vigilance, Doppo discovered, may have not been to just spot them, either, as Ramuda weaved through the crowd to barrel into Gentaro at full speed. The author anticipated this, moving both feet to the ground and tensing his muscles, just slightly. Ramuda still nearly barrelled him over, but Gentaro wrapped his arms around his team leader with practiced ease, his long sleeves folding over Ramuda’s body like a blanket. Gentaro’s head tipped down slightly, tilted, as if to press his cheek to the top of Ramuda’s head, but not quite. Doppo could not hear anything that may have been said over the noise of the crowd, but he saw the author’s lips moving, lips quirked into a soft smile.

Ramuda apparently took some umbrage to whatever was said, because he very audibly protested as he was released from the hug. “Lieeeees!” He pounded a fist on Gentaro’s chest. Gentaro staggered back, hand clutching his shirt over where he had been hit. His other hand then flew to his forehead as he dramatically stumbled into the rail behind him.

Doppo lingered, awkward, as whatever usual song and dance these two had choreographed concluded. A practiced inside joke-- he recognized the ease in how they exchanged words and actions. He and Hifumi often fell into the same sort of familiar pattern, bickering and poking fun. He’d been under the impression Fling Posse had only gotten together around the first DRB, but the intimacy he saw really spoke to some sort of deep bond.

Ramuda waved him over with an energetic hop, Gentaro offering him an enigmatic smile that Doppo found he could not even begin to read into. He paused before approaching, slightly unsettled, then edged his way through the crowd toward them.

He didn’t really know the Fling Posse second outside of his strange and seemingly out of the blue tiff with Hifumi. He had heard of Yumeno Gentaro, certainly, even before the rap... things. He was a popular and prolific author that, Doppo belatedly realized, his mother was a fan of. Some of his (ex)coworkers too, now that he thought of it. But beyond that, the man was a complete enigma.

Considering his ‘but that is a lie’ catchphrase, that was possibly by design.

“Mr. Kannonzaka.” Gentaro’s tone was genteel enough as he nodded his greeting. “I have to say, I was quite surprised when our dear leader said you would be coming along.” Doppo couldn’t say he knew how to take that, but thankfully Gentaro seemed to notice this. “Ah. I mean...” Gentaro hummed thoughtfully, touching his chin. “The entire situation was something of a surprise, although we have been telling Ramuda he needs an assistant.” He clarified. “Furthermore, you never struck me as a ‘go out and drink’ sort of person.”

Doppo grimaced, a touch stung. What did that mean? That he wasn’t sociable? That he had no friends? Honestly, he was under the impression that drinking was how most adults socialized outside of work-- close friends aside.

“Not with us, anyway.” Gentaro quickly said, sweeping a hand out to the side in dismissal. “You do know that Dice will be attending?” He turned his head to look at Ramuda, who nodded.

Doppo’s grimace deepened, the lines on his forehead scrunching up slightly. “I don’t hate Arisugawa or anything.” He sounded a bit defensive, to his chagrin. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

Ramuda nodded more rapidly, grinning. “It’s gonna be fun!” His eyes shone with mischievous energy.

Doppo found himself slightly more unsettled all of a sudden, brain wild with speculation about what ‘fun’ was for someone like Ramuda. As someone with social anxiety, Doppo felt required to read every situation and possibility. He needed to know what to prepare for, how to respond, what people wanted and needed. Anticipating everything was how he’d survived all these years.

He could not begin to read these two, so things could be as tame as a normal drinks with acquaintances scenario or as wild as-- what. Running from the Yakuza? No, that was almost too normal of an outcome. Base jumping from 109. Base jumping in drag from 109! And he would have to do it. His boss was telling him to--

Doppo was, surprisingly, snapped out of his spiral by a warm arm thrown over his shoulder, smelling strongly of cigarettes and cheap body deodorant spray. It threw him off kilter, tugging him backwards into someone’s shoulder. “Hey! Who’s ready for drinks?” Dice appeared as raucously as his teammates, eagerly smiling and squeezing Doppo in a friendly side-hug. The faux fur collar of his jacket brushed up against Doppo’s neck, slightly scratchy. Doppo swatted at him, mostly out of instinct. To Dice’s credit, he did let go when given the hint.

“Drinks, drinks, drinks!” Ramuda hopped on his toes over to Dice. “You ready to pay for them?”

Dice blanched, going stark white. “Wa-Wait, hold on.”

Gentaro slid in next to him, eyes crinkled smugly. “Ah, yes. Considering we’ve paid for the last... how many rounds, now, Ramuda?”

“Hm. When was the last time Dice won money?” Ramuda canted his head to the side, pressing one finger coyly into his cheek.

“Hey!” Dice stomped his foot, indignant. “I’ll let you know that I came out totally in the black last week!”

“And now?” Gentaro’s smile grew slightly wider. Dice mumbled something, so quiet that even next to him, Doppo couldn’t make it out. Gentaro and Ramuda leaned in closer, crowding in. Even while not the center of attention, Doppo felt trapped in. Surrounded. How can someone get surrounded by two people?
“I said I’m broke.” Dice’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I lost big today, and I’m outta cash. I was so damn close too! I was up--”

“Ah, so you’re destitute again. I see.” Gentaro tutted his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. “Whatever shall we do with him?

“I mean, no money, no drinks.” Ramuda shrugged, slightly exaggerated. “Too bad!”

“You’re not abandoning me, are ya? Hey--” Dice reached after his two friends, who had turned slightly away from him.

“Hardly a point in coming, if you cannot imbibe.” Gentaro once again gave a dismissing flourish of his hand, unfairly elegant for the vicious teasing going on.

“Hey!” Dice whined, puppy-like. “You don’t mean that! Come on. Gen? Ramuda? You can spot me!” He chased after him a few steps, but was ignored. Pointedly. It was getting to be pathetic. Dice was grabbing at Ramuda’s sweater-tails. “Please please ple--” Now he was bowing.

Doppo sighed heavily. His chest felt tight watching such a pathetic display. Why was he begging? He could just go home, right? He didn’t have to go out. But still, he seemed so doggedly set on coming with.

“I’ll... I can pay for a couple drinks.” Doppo offered, shoulders slumping. Dice spun around, lighting up. He rushed over to Doppo.

“Seriously? You’re the best, man! I’ll pay you back for sure. Next time I win some dough. I’ll treat you twice over!” Dice clapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back and forth slightly. “This is gonna be a blast!”

What a turn around. Doppo felt like a fool for giving in to the pleading so quickly, for letting his heart get soft toward pleas for booze. Clearly it had been some sort of ploy. But... Dice’s delight was genuine. There was warmth in the smile, and the grip on Doppo’s shoulder was solid.

Huh. Is this what it was like to have a normal ‘guy friend’.

Not that Hifumi wasn’t his ‘normal guy friend’ but that was also Hfiumi. He wasn’t a ‘guy’ guy.

Whatever. That wasn’t the anxious spiral he wanted to go on. What he was going to spiral on was the fact that it looked like Ramuda and Gentaro were hiding smiles behind fists, shoulders shaking a bit. Had they planned that. Had they known how quickly he’d fold? Goddamn it.

Doppo had half a mind to call them out on it! But his mouth stayed firmly shut as they were joined by several other people, most of which he recognized from the earlier modeling event. He couldn’t just start something around people he barely knew, and they were greeting people and Ramuda was hugging his hellos, and then they were walking somewhere. Where was the time to protest?

Dice kept an arm around him while they walked, all buddy buddy. Doppo decided he didn’t feel like shoving him off. It was nice to be included for once.

Chapter Text

Doppo spent much of the ten minute walk to... whatever bar in what must have been a fugue state. That’s the only way he could explain the fact that he had no idea where they were going, did not know what was going on, and just was pulled along with the tide. It really was like he was out to sea, clinging desperately to a rock. A rock that, his mind had decided, was him fixating two things. 

One, that he never in a thousand years thought he’d end up with a model on his arm-- and there was one, a beautiful young woman with hair in loose curls, dressed in the soft neutral greens and tans that he recalled seeing a lot of in his ‘fashion research’; and two, that this felt eerily like the group date he’d been forced on in his early twenties. There were eight of them, after all, and although it was not an even split between women and men-- one of Ramuda’s model friends was at least masculine in their speech and presentation-- that didn’t stop this from basically being a group date. Although he’d never thought about Fling Posse’s collective sexualities--

Well, he just had a feeling that ‘straight’ wasn’t even an option. 

Not that that was a problem. Several of Hifumi’s co-workers were, somewhat hilariously, gay. Hifumi was-- well, he was frightened of women, so who knew where that left him, and he was so immaculately dressed, Doppo had long accepted there might be something unsaid there. And Doppo, himself-- 

The point was, Doppo didn’t really care about people’s sexualities. He was just reasoning that this, in fact, did very much resemble a group date and it was extremely weird. 

Ah. Wait. The woman on his arm was saying something. Damn it. He hadn’t been paying attention to anything for who knows how long. He looked around, and then slightly down at her, trying desperately to focus back in. Ramuda was chattering at Dice, holding his sleeve and swinging their arms. Gentaro was having a polite conversation with two of the models. Something about his new book, it sounded like. And the woman-- 

Mariko. That’s right, she’s said her name is Mariko Numaue. 

“...working you too hard?” She gave him a slightly shy smile. Her lips were shiny with a light-colored lip-gloss. Doppo wracked his brain for what the question could have been. Considering the context, it was probably safe to assume she was asking about his job. 

Doppo rubbed the back of his head with the arm that was not being, very gently, held on to. Actually, when did that start? And why? Doppo was not the sort to get clung onto by girls. 

“Ah, sorry.” Doppo said after a moment, embarrassed by his delay. “No, he’s uh. Surprisingly lenient.” That wasn’t quite the right word, the right phrasing. “What I mean is everything is great. Not too much overtime or anything.” Ramuda just occasionally pushed his boundaries, mostly regarding the fulfillment of strange whims. If anything, that was the most unsurprising thing about the whole new position. 

Mariko smiled and nodded in satisfaction. “That’s great. Fashion can be a tough business. I work part time in a boutique, and the management always looks so harried.” They lapsed back into silence, but with the conversations around them and the general sounds of the city, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

“Where do you work?” It was only polite to continue a conversation, Doppo figured, even if Mariko hadn’t seemed to have minded the quiet. 

Mariko looked up, slightly surprised, if her wide eyes said anything. “A leather-goods shop in Dogenzaka. It's called Postalco.” She fidgeted with the fabric of Doppo’s sleeve.

It didn’t crease, the fabric of his blazer soft and sweatshirt-like (but like, a nice sweatshirt, his mind supplied, indignantly). It was one of the things Mirimi and Akiko had picked out for him. 

The grab felt close, intimate. Doppo moved his arm slightly, jostling her off. Mariko let go, offering a smile as she stepped to the side, out of his space. “You should come by sometime. I’ll let you use my employee discount.” She nodded her head slightly at his canvas bag, the fabric frayed and faded in some areas, beaten soft and somewhat lumpy by years of use. The shoulder strap was warped into the shape of Doppo’s shoulder and discolored where it rubbed against his neck. “We had some really nice messenger bags just come in.” 

Doppo tugged the bag a little closer to him, hands grabbing onto the strap at his chest. Was there something wrong with having an old bag? Hifumi had helped him sew up some tears, and he’d needed to get a pretty thick needle to reattach the strap that one time it was pulled off, but if anything, that just spoke to its resilience. It had carried his burden. 

Mariko quickly backpedaled, waving her hands in front of her. “That’s...! I didn’t mean that your bag is bad or anything! People just can’t have too many bags... I mean, they can, but having options is nice, and leather bags are so stylish on men.” 

Doppo didn’t respond for a moment, having found that watching the rest of the group ahead of them was suddenly very interesting. Was the logo on that person’s jacket a cat or a dog? The style of the patch made it very ambiguous with the rounded but upright ears and the little nose. 

He shifted awkwardly, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. He turned back toward her, watching how her brow furrowed in guilt. He shook his head. “No, you’re probably right.” He muttered. “I’ve, uh... had this bag for a long time. It probably looks like trash by now.” 

“That’s not...” Mariko’s frown deepened, eyes widening. 

“It’s okay. I’m not fashionable like you all are. I’m dingy and have always worn cheap suits and...” His grip on the strap tightened. Why had he agreed to come? He didn’t fit in with this group. Why had he taken the job at Empty Candy? He’d been out of place today at the event, he was out of place now. If he’s just stayed quiet, he could have stayed in his cubicle under halogen lights, a little dull drone like he was. Just a small... dull... 

“Look not so dejected, friend.” Despite having been ahead the whole walk, Doppo found that Gentaro had drifted backward, falling into step with them with a sweep of his hakama. Somehow a Noh actor on the streets of Shibuya. “Does the sparrow worry over the tidiness of its nest? The carpenter over the newness of his tools?”

What. Doppo stared at him, mouth tight and eyes frozen wide. 

“Nay. Certainly, they may occasionally have need for a bit of pristine fur for their warmth, or for a whetstone for their chisel, but they value no less what serves them well.” 

Doppo continued to stare. Mariko blinked alongside him, silent in the face of a soliloquy. 

“So says philosopher Hajime Nakamura on the teachings of the Buddha anyway.” 

Doppo narrowed his eyes, face scrunching slightly as the gears in his head turned. He was no philosopher. Birds and carpenters... ah. 

“I totally agree!” Mariko said hastily, having come to a conclusion about the same time. “You’re saying that the value of something or someone has nothing to do with appearances, right?” 

Gentaro nodded slowly, sagaciously. 

“Isn’t that what everything is about? Appearances?” Doppo frowned, uncomfortable shuffling his feet. “And why are you quoting Nakamura at us...?” He remembered vaguely hearing about him in a college class. A scholar of Buddhism or something like that. Philosophy was a blur of a subject to him. He’d gone into sales anyway.

“Ah, because I am not.” Gentaro smiled in that way that, while it reached his eyes, there was a crinkle of mischief. “I made that up. But the point still stands. There is import to appearances, true, but that does not determine inner qualities.” 

It figured he’d made it up, honestly. While he didn’t doubt an author like Gentaro could quote passages he liked and memorized for the fun of it, that was pretty off the cuff. Suitably flowery, though.

“Your bag has served you well, yes? Then what care should you have if it is a bit...” He trailed off, looking upward with a hum. “...Worn.”

“Because it shows how shabby I am.” Doppo hadn’t meant to raise his voice, or to snap so harshly. His heart sank-- Gentaro had faltered slightly in his walk, eyebrows arching in surprise. There was no pause to allow Doppo the apology welling in his throat, Gentaro’s smile widened, something like warmth coming to his expression. 

“Is that what you think of your bag?”  

No. It wasn’t. He’d picked it out with his mother when he’d gone to college. It had been a bit pricey, but she’d insisted-- always practical, his mother-- on the waxed canvas, the strong stitching, the pad for his shoulder. An adult bag for her little boy off to school in Tokyo. It held up through heavy books and files. Had never once soaked through, even in a typhoon. The patched edges came from being picked up and set down, picked up and set down, hit against the sides of trains and into walls as he rushed to classes, then to work. 

It was dependable. Trustworthy. He’d never worried that it would break or fail to protect the things inside. It always fit what he needed. 

It was unfair to think of it as shabby . 

“It couldn’t hurt to have a shiny leather satchel, of course. But please, do not denigrate your poor bag so.” 

Apparently content to leave it at that, Gentaro shrugged slightly and quickened his pace to catch up with his posse. Dice shot nearly a foot into the air as Gentaro leaned over his shoulder to whisper something into his ear. Ramuda laughed heartily. 

Doppo had stopped in his tracks at this point, eyes drifting to the ground slowly. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder. It was comfortable in its weight. 

Maybe he would get a new bag. For outings like this. But he wasn’t going to stop using his satchel. 

---

They ended up not at a bar, in the end. The bar Ramuda had wanted to go to had been over-busy, too full for a party their size, and although they seemed willing to make something work-- it was Ramuda asking nicely, after all--  no one was keen to be crowded and jostled around just to stick to the plan. So instead, the group volleyed ideas back and forth as they wandered the Shibuya streets, proposing this bar and that izakaya, one person suggesting maybe going clubbing instead, Dice suggesting they hit the pachinko parlor. Doppo hadn’t been keen on going out drinking in the first place, so pachinko and clubbing made his stomach turn violently. 

Ramuda shut down the idea of gambling by both reminding Dice of his considerable debt and making a face, complaining about the scent of smoke in those parlors anyway. Dice sulked. Doppo couldn’t miss a glance Gentaro sent him in response, expression unimpressed and almost chiding. Maybe Doppo was reading too far into it, because although Dice did back off the idea, there hadn’t been a further reaction. Clubbing too, sounded to be a no-go, Gentaro being the one to say that his ‘delicate constitution’ was not ‘made for cavorting in such places’. 

“You seemed just fuckin’ fine last week in Roppongi.” Dice grumbled, fixing him with an irritated look. Gentaro pretended to swoon onto his shoulder. 

“What are you implying? Are you calling me a lascivious hedonist? Such harsh words! I am wounded.” 

“A la... wha? Dude, I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t call you nothing-- we just went clubbing like, recently. Don’t be a jackass.” Dice shoved at him, although with little force. 

Ramuda laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, come on! We need to make a choice, or I’m gonna die from not having a drink!” 

“Now who is lying? I have never heard of a man dying from lack of alcohol.” Ramuda rolled his eyes at Gentaro’s comment, looking around at the street they were on and apparently making a unanimous decision. 

“Let’s just go here!” Ramuda grabbed the sleeve nearest to him and pulled whoever they were into a door in a black, wooden facade, scuffed and unassuming a little bit down a side street. As the unlucky chosen one, Doppo stumbled in after him, being the first to enter the warm interior. All natural wood and warm lights, the booth seating and sushi-bar seating, it was welcoming-- an izakaya style restaurant, if the small plates and groups of people drinking said anything. 

A server took notice, looking up at the opening of the door. “How many people?” He called, watching as the rest of the group trickled in after them. 

“Eight!” Ramuda called back, releasing Doppo in order to hold up the number of fingers, waving his palms playfully.

“Got it! Wait just a moment, please!” 

They were seated in a few moments at an upstairs table, set into the floor in a partitioned-off area, a wooden wall with slats separating it from the rest of the izakaya, and a curtain draping off to the side to designate a separate part of the table, which was already occupied by a group who looked to be well into their cups, snack trays and glasses abounding. Fling Posse all filed in next to each other, Gentaro on one side, Ramuda in the middle, Dice on the other. Doppo was pulled in to join this line as Dice tugged him down to sit together, grinning with anticipation of food and drinks. Doppo shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the table as opposed to anyone else. The four other members of their party, Mariko included, took the other side of the table, everyone shedding their jackets and bags to get comfortable. 

They didn’t waste any time before ordering, Dice, ever bold, flagging down a server immediately. A round of beer for everyone, outside of one model whose name Doppo struggled to remember... No... Nobu... Nori-- whatever it was, he asked for oolong tea. For a second, Doppo looked nervously over, his mind jumping to the times he’d been pressured into drinking, or he saw others pressured into drinking, as if not having alcohol was a fault, ruining the outing for everyone. The boss insisted it was for relaxing and opening up with teammates, drinking and drinking so long as someone still pressed upon it. He’d never really wanted to feel so vulnerable around his coworkers. Dizziness and nausea and hangovers without any real fun being had.

But no one even so much as shot the model a look. No nudges and teases or pressure. Gentaro even switched his order to an oolong highball, looking smug, like he’d come up with a brilliant idea. Ramuda did tease him about that. 

“You’re such an old man, Gentaro!” Ramuda leaned his weight on Gentaro’s shoulder, pushing him slightly. Gentaro simply allowed himself to be pushed, then pushed back, nose scrunching up in mischief. 

“There’s nothin’ like an oolong-hai after work.” Gentaro pitched his voice to be rough and nasal. “You’ll learn when you’re old like me, young man.” 

Ramuda punched him in the arm. Doppo thought it was a rather good impression of his old baldie boss-- not that Doppo felt any homicidal rage toward Gentaro. (At the moment, at least.) 

Doppo would later fuzzily remember the rest of the night as being full of the same good-natured ribbing. Alcohol was flowing, Gentaro made several very dramatic but honestly decent impressions, mostly to Dice’s ire, Ramuda ended up laughing hysterically. Doppo may have even cracked a real smile once or twice. There was one point where he’d gotten... as he did (read: in a depressive spiral), muttering to himself in anxiety about; what? Everything and nothing, possibly. He’d somehow been pulled into Dice’s side, the gambler’s arm curled around him and squeezing. Dice had said something to him, but he’d been so surprised by the warmth and weird sense of comfort amidst the energy of the room that he hadn’t caught it. 

Things blurred together. One beer into two, three, four. Laughter. Tears? Doppo recalled Ramuda on his lap at one point. Across multiple laps, maybe. Bright colors. Hot, salted food, crispy and fried. Not feeling well. Staggering home in the chill of March air, something warm on his shoulders. 

A dull thud onto the soft familiarity of his bed.

--- 

When Hifumi returned home at his customary three am, he found the apartment dark and quiet, as he always did. The early mornings were still in Tokyo, the sky dark although yellowed by light pollution. He rarely flicked on more than the hall lights when he returned home, worried as he was that he’d wake Doppo from the little amount of sleep he got. The dim warmth of the bulbs added to the soft nature of the silent morning, casting dark shadows from the furniture in the living room. 

Things were always as they were, including the wobbly nature of Hifumi’s tired mind after a night of champagne. (He wasn’t sure if he could ever drink champagne outside of work. It had started to taste like nothing.) Taking off his shoes, he quietly shuffled across the laminate floor, aiming to get to his bedroom for a quick nap before Doppo woke for work. He stopped just short of his door, however. Right next to his room was, of course, Doppo’s. But the door was open. 

Not unknown to happen, sometimes Doppo worked so hard that he collapsed in bed, suit and all, and didn’t get up. (Why then, were the lights turned off?) 

Hifumi couldn’t help a bit of a fond smile and an eye roll. His poor, admirable Doppochin. Working so hard, never resting. It was up to Hifumi to care for his best friend-- goodness knows Doppo wasn’t going to take care of himself. It was the least he could do to repay all the years of support and understanding. 

Tucking in Doppochin time it was, then. Hifumi tossed his suit jacket through his door and onto the bed and changed course, peeking into the darkness of Doppo’s bedroom. A little grow light was still turned on over a pot of cacti, illuminating the corner brightly. The time glared red from an alarm clock next to the bed. Hifumi squinted against the grow light’s glare and the dimness of the rest of the room. 

The bed was empty, just as made as he’d left it before work. Actually, it looked like nothing had moved since he’d tidied up that afternoon. 

Doppo wasn’t home? 

Hifumi didn’t remember having any texts or calls from him, last he’d looked. Looking again, his cell was still blank of Doppo-related notifications. Just a couple of mentions on Instagram, which he would get to... later. When he felt like it. 

It could have been that Doppo was, in fact, overworking again. He’d had that crazy stint just a week ago, after all. But it was just a week ago. Big projects had downtime, even for black companies like E.L Medical Supplies. If it was happening again... 

Well, Hifumi’s old fear of Doppo literally working himself to death was rearing its head full force. He was quick to unlock his phone screen, moving to his recent calls and choosing Doppo’s name from the top of the list. It rang and went to voicemail. He tried again. No response. Oddly, he swore he distantly heard the default, jingling chime of Doppo’s flip phone. 

He chewed on his lip, pulling on the skin anxiously, then scrolled to his contacts, furiously moving to ‘ji’ to call Jakurai. 

The door handle jiggled, and keys jingled. Hifumi spun around, sighing in relief, shoulders sagging visibly from their tenseness. “Welcome home, Do--” 

The front door opened. Through the dark apartment, with the backlighting of the hall, the figure standing there was more blob-like than recognizable as a person. A shiver ran up Hifumi’s spine, despite the ridiculousness of his sudden fear of some sort of strange and sudden unknown. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, just as the figure did. The hall light illuminated it-- them. It was Doppo, but not just him. He was slumped against the shoulder of a petite woman, who was using her full body strength to prop up the Doppo’s beanpole frame. 

The woman squeaked in surprise, her shoulders jolting up and jostling her barely awake cargo. Anyone being awake at this hour was going to be shocking, Hifumi supposed, but that thought passed him by quickly, replaced with an onslaught of other, more pressing matters; Namely, that there was a woman in his home. That she was touching Doppo. That he was not in his host uniform. That Doppo was home at three am with a woman. 

His stomach knotted uncomfortably. Cold panic pulsed through his veins, but his face warmed with... what, mortification? Anger? Why would he be angry? Hifumi stood stock-still in the hall. 

The woman, having calmed her nerves a bit, smiled, then gave him a little dip of her head in greeting. “Good evening... um...” She shifted Doppo’s weight, he groaned at the disturbance. “Mr. Kannonzaka had a bit too much and...” 

Who was she? A coworker? Definitely possible, but she wasn’t dressed for office work with her billowy blouse and pleated skirt. And Doppo didn’t get this drunk at work parties. He may have trusted a few friendly work-friends, but around the corporate world, he was cautious. Unwilling to let his true emotions slip from alcohol. If he got to that point-- which he was well beyond at the moment-- he taxied directly home and went directly to bed. That was the routine, if Doppo was drinking at all. 

But here he was, slung over a pretty girl’s shoulder, clinging to her like a lifeline. Hifumi had been joking around when he teased Doppo about a secret girlfriend, a secret sugar-momma buying him these new fancy clothes and taking up his time. Clearly though, this wasn’t a joking matter. It was real. Or at least a possibility. Because who else could this be? 

Hifumi, afraid of this sudden intruder or not, should have been happy. Doppo was a wonderful person, and handsome to boot, eye-bags be damned. He deserved the world. A girlfriend was the least of that! Instead though... instead Hifumi felt something else. An ugly thing, squeezing and knotting inside him. He wasn’t sure what it was. If he’d felt it before, he couldn’t recall. 

Betrayal over being lied to? Maybe anger at not being told every bit of Doppo’s personal life. Offence at their space, his and Doppo’s, being intruded on. Worry, maybe. It made him feel nauseous. His heart hammered in his chest. His throat was tight. 

After a moment of silence and lack of reaction, the woman cleared her throat. “Um... You’re his roommate, right? He was talking about you!” That made it worse. How did that make it worse? 

“I’m Numaue Mariko-- I um... Sorry. Can you help me with him?” Hifumi shook off his stupor, giving her a fragile smile, eyes darting away from her eye-contact in an effort to protect himself. 

“I-I’ve got him. Thanks.” He shuffled down to meet her, looping his arm around Doppo’s shoulder as she foisted the drunk man onto him. Doppo swayed and leaned into his arms, mumbling a protest and looking up with bleary eyes. Clearly noting who he was looking at, he gave a soft sigh, tucking his face into Hifumi’s neck with the slurred suggestion of a word. Hifumi tightened his hold, hand grabbing at the back of Doppo’s shirt. 

Mariko smiled back, bobbing another bow toward him. “Make sure he rests, okay? I think it’s going to be a rough hangover.” She didn’t need to tell him that. She shouldn’t have said that, as if he wouldn’t do anything to ensure Doppo’s health and safety. Hifumi nodded, regardless, retreating a bit back into his home, away from this strange woman. 

“Thanks.” He managed, once again. “I’ve got him.” A reassurance. 

Mariko took a moment to watch them, head cocked slightly in questioning, but it did not last long. She nodded, heading back toward the door. “Let Mr. Kannonzaka know I’ll see him next time?” The door clicked shut softly behind her. Hifumi was left holding Doppo as he swayed, half into sleep. 

“...What was that?” Hifumi asked. “What is going on, Doppochin?” 

Doppo, of course, didn’t answer, tired and dizzy and finally safe. He nuzzled his face into his shoulder. Hifumi heaved a sigh and guided Doppo’s sluggish steps to bed, taking off his shoes, removing his jacket. He tucked Doppo beneath his blankets, brushed Doppo’s bangs from his face. Hifumi swallowed back the ugly feeling from before. 

Seriously, what was it? 

“What am I gonna do with you?” Hifumi didn’t expect an answer this time either. Instead, he went to the clock on the table and disabled the alarm for the next day, flipped off the grow-lights, and let Doppo sleep. 

---

The headache Doppo awoke with was not worth the alcohol he’d drank. The sunlight filtering through his windows was glaring and dagger-like in its sharp intensity. His head felt as if it had been pounded-- was being pounded actively-- by a mallet. The world’s most unappetizing mochi. His throat felt dry and scratchy. His stomach turned if he so much as tried to lift his head. Blissfully, the apartment was quiet, the hum of the streets below white noise to drown out the habitual ringing in his ears that came whenever it was silent. One solace in what was going to be a very hard morning. 

Wait, it was morning. 

Doppo sat up sharply, regardless of whether the room spun wildly, worse than any rollercoaster he had ever been forced upon. Last he checked, yesterday had been Thursday. A weird day for a drinking party, upon reflection. Which made it Friday. Which made it a workday. He swallowed down the sour taste of bile to scramble for his phone. It was not where it usually was, on its charger. The clock’s painfully red numbers showed ten am. Doppo’s breaths quickened, his head feeling light. His heart hammered in panic. He was late, he’d slept in, he was late, this was a new job he’d be fired, he was late, he was going to get yelled at, he would-- Maybe worse, actually, now that he remembered who his boss was. Ramuda had proven to have a frightening side. What would he do to him for failing so spectacularly in his first week-- 

He found his jacket on the end of the bed and searched its pockets. It was there, dragging the pocketed side slightly down to the floor. Doppo flipped his phone open, perhaps a touch too aggressively. 

There were notifications. One from Hifumi, a three o’clock missed call. Doppo felt guilty about that. An email notification, that was spam, he didn’t need to look too close to know that. And a text. 

[Ramuda <3] 

When had that heart been added? That wasn’t him, was it? Not the point. God, he was definitely going to see a firing notice over SMS. He sat and stared at it for a long moment, eventually flicking it open when his courage was gathered.

[Ramuda <3] Hung over No work today

Ah. Well, they were only a team of two. And Ramuda was probably feeling as sick as he was. A wave of relief washed over him. He rubbed his temple and squinted his eyes to focus on writing a message back. 

[Work on Saturday?]

That seemed only to make sense. They would have to make up for the lost day. 

[Ramuda <3] Typing...

[Ramuda <3] Fuck no its saturday 

Ramuda <3] Typing...

Okay then. Wasn’t the Spring Collection kind of pressing, though? 

[Ramuda <3] Do what you want but im not gonna. 

Why had it taken a whole minute for him to message that? How hung over was he? 

[Ramuda <3]  Gentaro says to tell you you sing pretty 

[Ramuda <3] Typing... 

[Ramuda <3] oh that’s a lie again

[Ramuda <3] Dice does owe you 20,000 yen tho. Thats tru dont let him lie to u 

What for? Doppo couldn’t remember. Also, wow, rude. First thing in the morning insult from Mr. Natsume Soseki cosplayer.

[I can’t work sunday, I have rap practice.] 

[Ramuda <3] Psh ditch that old man

[Ramuda <3] We’ll beat your ass next time

Sure, Ramuda. Doppo almost wanted to tell him how much that wouldn’t be happening-- but Ramuda was his boss now, so better to not. 

[Ramuda <3] we def dont work sunday just come in monday like a normal person

[Ramuda <3] i mean, except when we do. But i’ll tell you when

Reassuring. 

Doppo groaned, letting himself full body flop back onto the bed, hand holding the phone hanging over the edge. At least that settled the concern about work-- a long weekend, huh? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one of those. Golden week last year? New Years? Days blurred together with activity. What did he even do with all that free time? 

After a moment of contemplation, he gave in to his heart’s deepest, laziest desire. Sleep. He would sleep. Doppo signed contentedly, rubbing his face into his blankets. They smelled faintly like laundry detergent from Monday’s wash. Lulled by the comforting scent, he was sure he would slip into sweet oblivion, away from his headache, away from his nausea, and drift on a cloud of ‘wow, no work today’. He wouldn’t even have to move if he didn’t want to. 

Well, no, that was a lie. He flipped over on to his back, stretching out in a vain attempt to wake properly. He definitely needed to go to the bathroom. And his sour stomach needed food. And... 

He caught the glint of a glass on his bedside table, full of water. Tablets placed beside it. Like much of last night, he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there. 

Ultimately, there were two options. Either Doppo of the past was merciful: unlikely, he was self neglectful on purpose when he was sober, he was sure he wouldn’t be so well thought out drunk. Or, distinctly more likely, sometime between last night and now, Hifumi had come to check in on him. Doppo’s stomach twisted in a way that was definitely not from his hangover. There was an underlying fuzzy warmth to it, simply seeing proof of Hifumi’s care, but stronger still was the instinctual, habitual guilt that constricted his insides. Hifumi worked long, hard shifts as a host. He didn’t get home until early in the morning, he often battled against the alcohol forced into his system by his job, he had to come down from effectively pretending to be a different person for hours. Yet, he wasted his little remaining energy remembering to help his roommate with a hangover, instead of rightfully falling in bed. Hifumi forced himself to wake at dawn to make Doppo breakfast too, barely getting a nap between work and... what, taking care of an adult man like he was a child? Because he knew Doppo wouldn’t eat breakfast if he wasn’t there to make it. 

Doppo’s expression twisted in pain. This was also not due to the hangover.

So Hifumi had come home and found him passed out drunk-- wait, now that Doppo thought about it, how had HE gotten home? He didn’t remember anything between the Izakaya and... well, now. 

Fuck. Fuck shit fuck shit-- did Hifumi have to pick him up!? Oh, he could just imagine how that went. Or maybe he could if his head didn’t hurt so much. Being called by Fling Posse to pick up his drunk friend must have been the surprise of Hifumi’s night, and he imagined drunk Yumeno would be even more of an antagonist to Hifumi’s graciously sturdy but still frayed nerves. What did the whole drinking party with Fling Posse situation make him think? That Doppo was fraternizing with the enemy? That he’d gotten blackmailed? That-- did someone tell him about the career change? 

Oh, Doppo was definitely nauseous now. Especially because all of those things were true! (Well, he wasn’t being blackmailed, but what else can you call the desperation with which he took his new job?) 

With a miserable groan, he forced himself out of bed, steadying himself with a stumble after the room lurched sideways from the sudden motion. He swallowed back a sick turn of his stomach and chased it with the water and painkillers. The pills caught on the way down, sticking painfully in his chest. He gulped down the rest of the water. His heart still squeezed and squeezed. 

Dishes were clinking in the kitchen. Footsteps thumped softly over laminate floors. Hifumi was home. Of course he was still home. It was late morning, a couple hours from evening service. Was Friday an evening service day or a late night day? It wasn’t lunch, or he’d be gone already. Or wait, was it one of Hifumi’s days off? His schedule was so irregular, but Doppo should know this. Doppo should know this. Just like he should know what happened last night. What embarrassment he put himself through. Put Hifumi through. He supposed he could have gotten himself back home and Hifumi just noticed, but his luck didn’t hold out like that. A burden, a burden, a burden. The pills were stuck in his chest. 

He was a mess. A disappointment. Hifumi wouldn’t say it, but Doppo could see it whenever Hifumi smiled in a certain way, almost a grimace. It was easy to notice because Hifumi looked in pain. 

Hifumi was home. Hifumi would smile at him in that way and assure him that it was nothing, that everything was alright. Doppo wouldn’t believe him. 

Returning to bed for the rest of the day was sounding more and more appealing. At least he wouldn’t have to face Hifumi if he did. Wouldn’t have to face anything. 

Not an option, unfortunately. If he didn’t come out of his bedroom, Hifumi would worry even more, and would probably come in. Then he would be really disappointed. Doppo was a layabout, and a slob, still in last night’s clothes. A drunkard. Someone pitiable. 

Doppo took a deep breath in... then out. He was sitting back on the bed now, fingers flexing against the smooth texture of the sheets. Jakurai called these downward spirals, where the thoughts went out of control, making wild conjectures. There was no proof, no solid reasoning, his mind just would go off like a shot, like the marbles he raced in elementary school. Crashing and dropping and picking up speed. They needed to be stopped before they jumped the track. 

Breathing. Focus on surroundings. He was a disgrace. 

No-- he listened to the sounds of the city through his window, the distant rush of a train, an errant beep from who knew what. In... out. He needed to slow down. 

Right. So. 

Hifumi never really seemed to mind helping him out when he was less than a person. And he was up late anyway. So it wasn’t like he was woken up. If Hifumi had to help him, it was... fine. And Doppo was grateful. 

What if Hifumi was upset in some way? Doppo didn’t really want to see that. It hurt, and he was useless with comforting people. Ultimately, though, he and Hifumi had been through much worse times. Times he didn’t like to think about, when they were both at their lowest, pushing past their capabilities to even function, let alone support each other. Something like this would be a minor argument at worst and Doppo just apologizing at best. 

It was fine. 

Doppo stood. One more breath. Then he went for the door, pulling it open slowly. Ripping the bandaid off was supposed to be fast, and somehow hurt less, but opening it too abruptly felt like shattering the tentative peace of the apartment. He peeked out. 

“Hifumi?” 

Hifumi was settled on the living room couch, legs tucked under him and a mug warming his hands. Although not in pajamas, he was dressed down for home, sweatpants baggy and shirt hanging a touch off the shoulder. The very picture of comfort. 

Or not. Hifumi looked over to him, and Doppo was not sure what to make of his expression. He was smiling... sort of. It was awkward and slightly tense, lips tight and brow furrowed. Hifumi shifted to put his feet on the ground. “G’morning, Doppo.” He still tried to sound chipper. It fell flat. 

Doppo swallowed thickly. Maybe the expression didn’t register immediately, but he knew the tone all too well. It wasn’t common. It wasn’t usually aimed at him.  

Hifumi was mad . Like actually angry, not indignant or defending the honor of his friends or. No, it was in that simmering way that spoke to intense displeasure about something. 

Oh no. What the hell had he done. 

Doppo suddenly wished he could undo opening his door. Maybe trying to sleep through the day was the best option he’d had. “Hi--Hifumi. Good... um. Good morning.” Should he start apologizing? He should definitely start apologizing. He was about to do it too, when Hifumi took a sharp breath in, then exhaled through his nose in a huff. 

“We’ve gotta talk, Doppochin.” 

Never good words, never good words, what the hell had happened last night? Why was Hifumi mad? Shit, the marbles were on the track again and bouncing wildly, threatening to fly off into the wild blue yonder. Did he make an ass of himself? Was he arrested or something? There were way too many options to know exactly what the hell drunk Doppo had done. 

This wasn’t a ‘there’s a dead body in our apartment’ situation again, was it? He couldn’t go through that again. Then again, Hifumi hadn’t really been phased by that and Jakurai was nowhere to be seen. 

Doppo nodded tensely, considering, very seriously, bolting from the apartment all together. It would be better than whatever this talk was. He really was a disappointing, disgusting excuse for a man. He still sidled over to go sit on the couch with Hifumi, right where his roommate patted with great insistence. The cushions were as plush as ever, but he still sat stock straight, arms braced against his knees. 

They sat in silence for what felt like too long of time. Hifumi was pursing his lips, not looking at Doppo, searching the room with his eyes. Thinking of what to say. Doppo only looked at Hifumi, or anything else in glances, glaze staunchly fixed on his lap. His fingers weren’t interesting to look at. 

Hifumi sighed loudly, putting his mug down on the coffee table with an audible thunk. Doppo flinched, but did look up. Hifumi shifted his legs to the side to better face him. 

“So.” Hifumi stopped, glancing away for a long moment. A long enough pause that if Doppo wanted to say something, he could. He did not. Hifumi sighed again. Oooh, that was definitely disappointment.

“So. When were you gonna tell me?”  

Doppo froze. He’d thought about this possibility! Hifumi had found out something! Why hadn’t he prepared himself for how to respond to this? He’d had plenty of time during his short descent into madness. He should have thought of an answer. He always prepped for these kinds of things, but no, the one time he apparently decided to wing it, he was totally left without words. 

“I’m not mad!” Hifumi quickly clarified. Thank god for that. “Okay, a little mad.” Hifumi. Please. Emotional whiplash. 

“I just.” Hifumi stopped, looking for his words again. “Don’t like it when you lie to me? Even through omission.” 

Ouch, okay, this was definitely about the enemy collusion. How could Doppo betray his team like this?! He was a traitor, and moreover, a liar! He didn’t tell Hifumi about the real reason for all the weirdness this week, he worried him several times over, and now-- Well, he still didn’t know what exactly what happened last night, but it was just one more thing. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Doppo managed to stammer out. “I shouldn’t have lied. We don’t do that to each other.” Not wholly true, both of them were guilty of pretending to be okay when they definitely were not, but they were working on it. That counted for something. “But you understand, right? Why I couldn’t say!” His voice broke. He would be embarrassed about that later.

Hifumi shook his head. “You know I wouldn’t get mad at you about that. I’m only mad about the lying.” He put a hand on Doppo’s, gently forcing his fingers to unclench. Doppo’s knuckles had been white with the force of it. Hifumi held the hand in his, then put it back down on Doppo’s thigh. Doppo tried his best to relax his other hand as well. His skin was sore from his nails pressing indents through his pants. 

The fact was, Doppo hadn’t known he wouldn’t be mad. In retrospect, Hifumi probably would celebrate Doppo quitting his previous job. He’d said to for years. Lots of people had. But taking a job with Fling Posse, under Amemura of all people; that wasn’t a well-thought-out, considered decision. Buddying up to three of the biggest pains in the asses in Tokyo, putting himself in a possibly dangerous(?) situation (maybe just a not very stable one), ending up in the Fashion world, where he did not belong. That would be upsetting, right? Or at least worrying? 

“With... with the change in clothes, and you being out later than usual. I was worried about your mental health.” Hifumi continued. That was understandable. Most of his choices this week felt like he was being a little bit insane. “But if you’d just told me what was going on...” 

“I’m sorry!” Doppo bowed his head. He only kept his hands loose for Hifumi’s sake. No use crushing his poor fingers. “I should have. I should have just told you-- but, but...” But nothing. There was no excuse. “...How did you find out, anyway? Was it something last night? I, um. Don’t remember much.” 

Hifumi huffed a sound approaching a laugh. “Oh yeah. You were super duper drunk.” Hifumi gave his hand a little squeeze. His smile seemed less tense. Maybe just awkward now. 

“You probably had to pick me up, huh.” Definitely embarrassing. Doppo couldn’t look him in the eye. Hifumi shook his head. 

“No, someone brought you home! It was really nice of her.” Ah, so he got hauled home. Probably one of Fling Posse. Dice? He looked the sturdiest. 

Wait back up. Her? 

Hifumi pushed his smile to a crooked smirk, teasing. “Soooo, who was she?” He leaned in closer, pressing a bit onto Doppo’s shoulder.

Hold on. Putting aside that a woman brought him home, that meant there had been a woman in their apartment. Hifumi must have been terrified! What sort of friend was he to let this happen?! This was the one truly safe place-- Was it one of the models? 

“She’s cute! Really pretty. And she seemed nice. She did haul you aaaall the way home.” 

Probably Numaue then. She’d stuck to his side most of the night. Probably out of pity. Not the point, though. 

“A work friend?” Basically, right? Maybe friend was too strong. 

“Doppochin! You dog! Office romance!” 

Doppo was solidly lost. “What are you talking about?” 

Hifumi snickered. “You don’t have to deny with me. My lips are sealed!” 

Doppo shook his head, scooting back and away from Hifumi. Just a little. Just to look at him better. “No, seriously. What are you talking about?” 

A heavy huff. Hifumi crossed his arms in a pout. “I said I don’t like lying. The thing you’ve been hiding all week.” 

“Which... is?” Doppo had a sinking feeling that they were not, in fact, talking about the same ‘secret’. 

“Your girlfriend! I’m not blind. The new clothes, the expensive accessories, going out and being social...” Doppo wouldn’t say he’d been going out and being social. It was just the one drinking party. 

“You’re seeing someone! That woman!” Hifumi jabbed a finger into his chest, none too gently. Doppo winced. 

Was that what he thought? That Doppo was in a relationship ?! Doppo, against his will, laughed. Nervous and loud. Perpetual bachelor Doppo Kannonzaka. Get with a model. That was ridiculous! How would Hifumi have ever come to that conclusion? Women didn’t want near him even with a ten foot pole. 

It was a convenient excuse, though. Dating someone. That would explain a lot of his weirdness, and wouldn’t be exposing himself as a quitter, as someone with flakey loyalties and worse decision making. 

Doppo managed to stop laughing once it devolved into wheezing. Hifumi was not laughing. He was not doing much of anything, actually, like he was frozen in place with his awkward, awkward smile. It looked painful. Doppo couldn’t really say why. 

He would have to tell the truth, wouldn’t he. He couldn’t just let Hifumi think he had some mystery girlfriend he didn’t bring around, couldn’t let him think he was... he was what, exactly? He just couldn’t let him think that. Couldn’t let him be pushed away by his cowardice. 

“I’m not dating anybody, Hifumi.” Doppo sounded a little hysterical. Not what he was aiming for. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s great! Someone finally--” 

Doppo cut him off. “No, no. Seriously. I’m not dating anybody. No one would want to, right?” Hifumi didn’t respond, his smile falling. Sad? Scolding? Both. “I--” 

“Okay Doppo. You aren’t dating anyone.” Hifumi sounded a touch doubtful. “Then what is going on? You can’t deny that you have been really. Really weird this week.” 

Right. Right. He was worrying Hifumi. He was betraying his trust with all of this... withholding of information and lying, no matter how harmlessly. Hifumi would be angrier if he kept lying, kept trying to have a charade. Surely they could work through Doppo’s career transgression.

“You remember last week? When I... when I broke my mug?” Hifumi nodded along, looking down at Doppo’s hand. He turned it palm up, to the red and white line of the healing ceramic cut. “I quit that day. I couldn’t take it anymore. All of the overtime and being scolded for stupid things and...” 

Hifumi perked up, expression bright and proud. “That’s great! That place sucked big time. You’re so smart and capable and...” 

“That’s... not all.” Doppo scratched the back of his head with the hand Hifumi was not cradling. Gently. Hifumi tilted his head to the side. 

How was he going to put this. “So I was at that work drinking party before that.” Hifumi nodded along. 

“You said it sucked.”

Doppo nodded his agreement. “It did suck. But uh. I met Amemura there. I guess I got tipsy? And complained to him. For a long while.” Hifumi raised an eyebrow. When Doppo didn’t speak for a second, he hummed a ‘go on’. 

“He... offered me a job. I thought it was a joke!” Doppo felt like he had to defend himself, though Hifumi wasn’t saying anything. He was simply listening. “He’s a fashion designer, and I guess he’s been doing it by himself, so he wanted to hire an assistant.” 

“I figured he’d have one. Probably some cute lady.” 

“Right?! Right, I thought so, but it’s just him. And a lot of contractors.” Doppo swallowed. “So when I quit... I took the job. Even though I thought it couldn’t be real. But it was. He’s actually professional when he’s not. Y’know.” Being a petulant child. Or maybe just being antagonistic. Frivolous. Dramatic. There were a lot of words to describe Amemura Ramuda. 

“So... your big secret is that you quit your job and now you’re working at Empty Candy.” Hifumi looked more perplexed than angry, tapping his fingers in a steady pattern on his leg. Doppo nodded slowly. He knew a lot of Hifumi’s expressions, but this reaction was throwing him for a loop. 

“So your new clothes and stuff are...” 

Doppo blushed. “... Amemura was embarrassed by my wardrobe.” 

“So he made you get a whole new wardrobe? Doppo, Burberry is hella expensive! Like too much for me to just get a scarf for funsies.” Doppo winced and shook his head quickly, trying to cut off the angry expression pulling at Hifumi’s face. 

“No! Well, yes. But he paid for it.” Which. He still felt weird about. “I didn’t spend any of my own money on any of the clothes.” He hadn’t really fought to pay for things, now that he thought of it, but he couldn’t imagine Ramuda would have accepted that. 

Hifumi relaxed. “...Huh. Well... you’ve been looking really nice.” Doppo’s blush came back en force. “Does Doc know?” 

Jakurai. Right. Yeah, no, he didn’t want to deal with that. “...It would make him worry.” Doppo muttered, tucking his chin in as if it could hide his face. 

“No, huh. Well, um. Has Amemura been nice?” 

Nice? Ramuda? Doppo thought about it. “Yeah. He has, actually. He cares about labor laws and stuff.” Which was already better than E.L. Medical Supplies. “I work nine to five? And have weekends off? He cancelled work today because we’re hung over.” 

“He’s not having you do anything illegal, right?” 

“Not... yet?” It really had been very standard and to the description of the job. But it was only week one. 

“Then... I mean, I don’t know if I like Amemura...” Neither of them really knew Ramuda that well. Didn’t have a beef with him the way Jakurai did. Most of what they knew was from pointed warnings from the good doctor. “But it sounds like it’s okay. Empty Candy’s a popular brand. It’s in the public eye, I don’t think anything too shady will happen. But fashion... huh. Didn’t expect you in fashion.” 

That was for sure. “I do a lot of admin. It’s not really that different from my old job.” Just less sales. More models. “I don’t totally get everything that he says about clothes and stuff. But I can tell he actually cares.” 

Hifumi’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. His designs are really something special. I have--” 

“An Empty Candy suit. Yeah.” He paused, seeing Hifumi’s surprise. “He pointed it out when I took your clothes to the dry cleaners.” Hifumi smiled, satisfied. 

“Okay. I guess I can get why you kept quiet about that. At least with Jakurai. But don’t hide important things like this again? I support you in whatever, you know that.” Hifumi scooted closer to knock their knees together. 

Doppo wasn’t sure if he could promise that, but... “I’ll try. And yeah. I know.” He leaned his shoulder against Hifumi’s. It was warm. The quiet was comfortable now. Cozy. The warm morning sun came through the thin curtains. 

“Think you can get me a discount?” Hifumi asked. “Some of last Summer’s collection was really really cute.” 

Doppo made an uncomfortable sound, a little high pitched. “I can’t ask that!” Hifumi laughed, loud and real.

“Come ooooon. For meeee?” 

“I’m not asking!”

“Pleaaaaase~?” 

“Ask him yourself!” 

“Boo.” 

Doppo sighed heavily. The tension eased and his eyes drooped in exhaustion. The adrenaline was gone. “Maybe if you model for him.” 

“Would he want that?” Hifumi tilted his head, touching his chin thoughtfully. 

“Why wouldn’t he?” Hifumi didn’t have a response, offering Doppo a warm look that suffused into his body. His chest no longer hurt. 

“Breakfast?” A glance toward the windows. “...Brunch? I’m sure I can whip something together.” 

Doppo breathed a laugh. His head leaned gently against Hifumi’s. “Brunch.” 

Chapter Text

With the air cleared and Hifumi no longer thinking he was in a relationship with some unknown person, (seriously, how did that even seem logical? As if Doppo would be in a relationship with anyone bu-- not the point) the rest of Doppo’s weekend was downright restful. Predictably, upon hearing that Doppo had gone shopping without him , Hifumi dragged Doppo out to PARCO and Takashimaya and a whole number of other department stores and shops, cramming what felt like a year’s worth of fashion escapades into a single Saturday. Surprisingly, it wasn’t actually that tiring; the warm hum of Hifumi’s chattering and the well-known routine of being towed in Hifumi’s slipstream soothed his frayed and frazzled nerves after his first week at Empty Candy. 

He returned home at the end of that day with a small selection of carefully Hifumi-curated and Hifumi-approved purchases to add to his wardrobe. For better or for worse, he hadn’t had the heart to tally up the charges when all was said and done, returning home satisfied and particularly happy about a gray-blue cardigan they had found on sale. 

...Probably for the better, seeing that he was able to sleep soundly that night with all of his plants watered and his hair faintly damp from a long, relaxing bath. No thoughts of his bank balance came to mind. His fried brain couldn’t have taken any more stress if it tried.

Sunday had been a bit more strenuous, if only because Hifumi was even worse at lying than Doppo was, and Jakurai was, as always, curious about the well-being of his team. Jakurai took their floundering avoidance of Doppo’s life situation shockingly well, only raising an eyebrow and continuing forward in the conversation as if they had been able to say ‘oh you know, just work things!’ with any semblance of normalcy. The rest of their practice was fine. They had a small pop up show to do later on in the week, but it wasn’t anything new, just something to placate Matenrou fans while their idols struggled against being adults with jobs. 

Before he knew it, it was Monday again, and Doppo was headed back to Empty Candy on the Fukutoshin Line, crushed in place by rush-hour and trying not to fall asleep in the muggy, disgusting warmth of it all. Thankfully, Hifumi had pointed out a flaw in Doppo’s transit path that morning-- he had been going from their closest stop at Higashi-Shinjuku all the way to Meiji Jingu Mae, then walking to Harajuku and to work from there-- so he would be trapped for... approximately two minutes less than before... but still. The ride to the much closer Kita-Sando was still cramped and uncomfortable.

Not for the first time, Doppo considered the merits of getting a bicycle, if only to avoid trains on a daily basis. Also not for the first time, his laziness won out over the idea of exercise, his constantly fatigued body protesting to the idea of physical labor. Maybe if he kept being able to actually rest, actually have time to sleep and decompress like a healthy human being, he could consider those kinds of things...

Ugh, one way or another, he would have to suck it up. Either he took the extremely short, but extremely uncomfortable train ride, or he biked, which would take longer, have cars and pedestrians, and would make him sweaty. Both options had their downsides! And he was too sleepy to make any informed decisions, especially while trying not to squish another passenger against a wall. 

Although. Maybe Hifumi would enjoy biking with him? 

The train’s speaker announced the next station. With mumbled apologies, Doppo sidled his way toward the nearest exit door, carefully avoiding pushing or standing over anyone. He was well aware of his slightly taller than average height. He was also aware of how he was already sweaty from the muggy weather. The combination did not bode well for shorter passengers. If he didn’t manage to ruin someone’s morning, he would always take it as a win. Being unobtrusive was difficult when your limbs were long and loved to get in people’s way. 

There were no complaints or dirty looks as he worked himself free and into the Sendagaya backstreets. He passed a corner FamilyMart, a small cafe with a storefront straight from the 70’s, a hair salon. Down a street was a school, students bustling to get to class, laughing and joking. Summer vacation was over already, the halcyon days of sunshine and lazy afternoons of video games on his bedroom floor with Hifumi flitting through Doppo’s mind. His younger brother, in elementary school and longing to hang with the big kids often intruded and tagged along. Seeing two siblings hand in hand as they walked, it brought to mind how small Kunio’s hand used to be on their daily walks, how the little boy had made Hifumi’s lap his seat again and again. 

Kunio wasn’t that small for long, of course. By the time High School had rolled around, he’d started not wanting to do much with his loser older brother, and although he’d admired Hifumi… those were hard years. Hifumi came around to the house less and less, skipping school, not leaving his house. Doppo came to class early every day to clean the graffiti off his desk, just in case Hifumi managed to show, but there were times he was not fast enough. Times he was not there to shield him from their classmates’ ridicule. 

Honobono had always been a few steps ahead. He hadn’t even known then how much she had to do with all of the pain Hifumi went through. How planned, intentional it was. 

Doppo turned away from the school and continued walking, swallowing down a hard tightness to his throat. 

Kunio was solidly in college now. It had been a long time since then. Last he’d heard, his little brother was applying to graduate schools in the United States— something about applied mathematics. They both were always good with numbers. It was just that… maybe Doppo didn’t have the drive Kunio did. Or wasn’t quite as smart. He’d never found what he wanted to do, never found a passion the same way others did. 

That’s okay . Dr. Jinguji always reassured him of that. Although, it was hard to accept placation from someone who was a well respected doctor. Everyone around him seemed to have their calling, their lives in order. Even Hifumi, after all he’d gone through, had become the top host in Shinjuku with fans and a fat paycheck. Doppo had ended up being a standard Black Business peon, and he even failed at that grunt work. 

Why wasn’t he able to tolerate his suffering like Hifumi did? Host work was hard on him, physically and mentally, but he kept at it. Doppo had… Doppo had broken and fully given up on his duties at E.L. Medical. If it hadn’t been for random charity from Ramuda Amemura of all people, he would be out of a job. 

Speaking of which, he was at Empty Candy’s door. He wasn’t paid to spiral into his own self doubt. It was time to shove it down. Deep down. Hopefully deep enough it wouldn’t pop up too quickly and send him into another crisis. 

The lock clicked in the door as he opened it. “Amemura! Good morning!” 

Doppo had learned his lesson. No sneaking up on half-asleep morning Ramuda on pain of death. 

He received no immediate response. Perhaps his employer was not awake yet, or wasn’t even in. It was pretty early. Doppo prided himself on his punctuality too much to not be in ahead of time. 

As he settled in, however, he noticed a marked amount of messiness to the place. Fabric draped across tables, mannequins half dressed, open plastic boxes on the floor. Mugs, at least three of them, were placed on different surfaces in different states of fullness. 

His first thought was a robbery. No one had been working over the weekend, so said Ramuda, but it was in such a state of disarray. He couldn’t think of any other cause. Though, it didn’t look like a robbery. Nothing was broken, they didn’t keep cash in the building, and it didn’t seem like papers had been rifled through, or equipment had gone missing. 

Rather than terror, Doppo found himself mostly just feeling unsettled and confused, not really understanding what he was looking at. Adventuring deeper into the studio with hesitant steps, he kept a hand tensed and ready to snatch for his mic, just in case. Not that him alone with his mic could hold off the various scenarios that his brain was coming up with. Yakuza or another type of gang or government special ops or-- 

He was so preoccupied with looking around that he forgot to look down. His foot caught on something on the floor that he registered as solid but somewhat squishy before the panic of ‘I’m falling, shit goddamn motherfuck--’ overtook him. Doppo staggered, his other foot swinging around to try and stabilize him. The thing he was tripping on was too large, however, so he had to overcompensate, nearly stepping on it as he tried to maintain balance. This failed, his legs too far apart and angled. His weight was shifted onto that front foot and he stumbled, crashing into the side of a table, his whole upper body falling onto it as he braced himself to stay upright. 

He heard a muffled grunt. 

Ow. Less ow than falling directly on the concrete floor, but ow all the same. The table had punched right into his ribs. He’d bent his toe. His elbow had knocked into the tabletop. His leg was over extended. 

Doppo looked down. 

Oh. Now he was actually terrified. 

From the ground, Ramuda looked at him with an expression of half-asleep and absolute contempt. Pink hair stuck up at every angle, one of Ramuda’s forelocks was stuck to his face, wet with drool. Dark circles bruised the underside of Ramuda’s bleary gaze, the bright teal of his eyes seeming darkened and hazy by the shadow over his face.

Doppo scrambled backwards as quickly as he could, only to fall on his ass after, yes, once again catching his foot on Ramuda’s side. 

He wanted to die. He needed to die right now. He wasn’t going to survive this— Doppo snapped his eyes closed, squinting them tightly as if expecting a blow. 

There was a long moment of quiet. Doppo could hear his heart hammer in his chest. 

There was a sound now. He couldn’t identify it. It was soft, breathless, strangled. He peeked open an eye. 

Ramuda was face down on the ground again, body tense, trembling slightly. Doppo was dead meat. “I-I.. Amemura, I am so—“ 

Ramuda cut him off, gasping softly with something like a squeak. Then again. 

“You-You look so… Stu-upid..!” Ramuda giggled, his whole body shaking with a drowsy attempt at uncontrollable laughter. It came out somewhere between a hiccup and a wheeze, between the deeper tone of ‘I need my coffee’ and the high pitch of his typical cutesy front. If Doppo wasn’t so stunned, it would have been endearing. Instead it was deeply surreal. 

Ramuda rolled onto his back, gasping for air between titter-fits. A tense coil of anger tightened in Doppo’s chest; mortification over tripping trumped by indignation.  

“YUH-YOU look stupid!” Great comeback Doppo. Stellar. A real burn. His face was hot. Back to embarrassment. 

He wasn’t wrong, though. Ramuda, now sitting up as he was, was dressed fully in rumpled day clothes, the sticky remnants of a lolly pop sticking to his collar. His forehead and cheek were bright red from... probably pressing against something, and even more ridiculous, there were rhinestones stuck like glittery freckles all over. Upon further inspection, there were rhinestones everywhere around Ramuda. In sheets, loose on the floor with gummi bags and candy wrappers, in small trays. Most strikingly, though, they were partially decorating a dark blue bodice of sheer material in little halos of gold and yellow, white and silver. It laid flat on the ground, detached from a ruffled skirt of similar material, the glittering designs partially hidden behind a thin layer of... some kind of mesh fabric. He couldn’t say what it was with any certainty, though he was sure someone had told him what it was called at some point. 

Ramuda threw a plastic spool at him. It missed by a wide margin and clattered dully on the ground. 

They sat staring at each other in silence for a moment. Ramuda stood up with an exaggerated eye-roll. 

“I need coffee.” As if that wasn’t clear. Ramuda’s eyes had dark circles under them like little bruises, and his movements were slow and uncoordinated. He ineffectively tried to rub the rhinestones off his face, then gave up. 

“And good morning , Docchi.” Ramuda glanced back at him, pointedly. 

Doppo snapped up to attention, standing and bowing on instinct. “Good morning!” 

When he straightened up, he caught a half smile on Ramuda’s face. “Make me a cup, wouldja? I’m gonna go freshen up and whatever!” 

Doppo nodded quickly. After all that, he needed coffee himself. To... to start to process whatever had just happened.

Apparently, Ramuda wasn’t going to give an explanation for his... ground nap, or any of the rest of it. He trotted up the stairs in the back to the mysterious second floor. Doppo heard a door close behind him. 

Distant, bubbly pop music filtered down from the upstairs, joining with the rumble of the coffee machine as Doppo started it. The small kitchenette filled with the smell of roasted beans. Left alone to his thoughts for a moment, Doppo’s hands carefully held the orange character mug that Ramuda had declared his at some point in the week prior.  

Doppo took a long sip. He’d been kind to himself this morning, remembering creamer and sugar. No scalded tongue, take that anxiety-based impulse control. Time for his brain to start working. 

His first thought was maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be questioning Ramuda’s choices, even in his mentally. Vulnerability seemed like something Ramuda was allergic to, considering how prickly he was last time Doppo had caught him unawares. It felt a little disrespectful to be trying to puzzle out the inner workings of such a private man. Besides, sleeping on the ground wasn’t the best, but if Ramuda had stayed up to work on a project, it was understandable. That, combined with the fact that there didn’t seem to be anything else wrong... maybe he should just accept that artists were eccentric.

There was a mess, though. The tools littering the floor. The trash everywhere. None of the displays were intact, there were dirty dishes. 

Doppo sighed, putting his mug down. They probably needed to clean up. Wait, no. Creative people got weird about that. Right? That was his impression. Maybe they should close the shop! There was no way the public could see Empty Candy in this state. 

That was a call he would leave to his boss. He wouldn’t touch any of the sewing bits and bobs-- though maybe could pick up the garbage? That wouldn’t mess with Ramuda’s creative process or something, surely.

God, he hoped so. 

Ramuda didn’t say anything when he returned downstairs, popping into the kitchenette to grab his coffee while humming a cheery little tune. His hair seemed to be a little damp, but otherwise he was as put together as ever in khaki capris and a sunny yellow polo. The picture of a good mood.

Doppo sighed in relief. “Amemura--” 

“Hmmm~?” Ramuda drank his coffee while milling around the studio, nudging various boxes and bolts of cloth to the side with a socked foot. 

“Uh. Um. What do we do with...” Doppo looked around sheepishly, tying up a small trash bag and holding it aloft. Ramuda canted his head to the side. 

“Eh. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged, putting his mug down to pick a seam ripper up off of the floor. “Studio’s closed. Didn’t you see the sign?” 

Oh. Well that solved a lot of problems. But... “No?” 

Ramuda squinted in the direction of the door. “Ah. Whoops. I didn’t put one up. Musta dreamed it.” 

“I’ll go write one, then?” Guess that was the benefit of being a small business owner. Ramuda could close up whenever he wanted. 

“Great! And I’ll put it on socials. By the way, should I use thiiiis picture... or this one for a personal post?” Doppo leaned over to try and see the phone waved in front of him, the screen glowing with some kind of image. Annoyed, Doppo grabbed either side of Ramuda’s hand, forcing it to still. He wasn’t going to bobble-head back and forth because Ramuda was hyper after his morning coffee.

Goddamn it. He flicked through the photo roll. Those were drinking party photos, weren’t they. Doppo pulled the phone, and Ramuda’s hand, closer, Ramuda making a sad sound of protest. 

A shot of the group ‘cheers’ing their glasses. Fling Posse, plus Doppo, squeezed together by Dice’s arm around their shoulders and Ramuda’s legs across their laps. Dice absolutely chugging a mug of beer. Karaoke? When had they gone to Karaoke? The photo had Doppo, one of the models, and Ramuda absolutely red-faced in effort as they sang into microphones. Gentaro singing along to an enka piece, by the song displayed. Dice looked like he wanted to run, Mariko was dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. It was unclear if she was crying from pain, emotion, sleepiness, or from laughter. 

Doppo may have not remembered much of that night, but it looked like he’d had fun. What parts he did recall certainly had been. 

Ramuda snatched his phone and hand away with a huff. “Chill! None of them are embarrassing.” He looked down and flipped through the photos himself. 

Doppo rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry! Sorry. I’m just nervous about those kinds of... things.”

Ramuda rolled his eyes. “It’s okay to let loose, y’know. What’s got you worried?” 

Doppo paused to think. His image. Professionalism. How people viewed him. Being out in public. Visible. Maybe he was bad with vulnerability too. “I’m just... private, is all.” 

Ramuda shrugged. “Kay, I won’t pick one with you in it.” He narrowed his eyes in concentration and consideration. 

Oh. Doppo blinked. That was considerate. “You don’t have to do that. I just... um.” What was he saying? Thinking. He couldn’t put a finger on it.

“No one who knows you follows my personal account, Docchi.” Ramuda looked over his phone at Doppo’s conflicted expression. 

“Not even Jakurai?” 

Wrong question to ask. Ramuda’s expression darkened, soured. He cast his eyes back down to his screen. 

“No.” Ramuda stared at his phone, tapping away. “Oh, actually, Hifumin is my mutual. Is that a problem?” A forced smile pulled at his face. 

Doppo shook his head quickly, wanting to move past the tension. “There’s nothing you could show him that he hasn’t seen before.” More or less. The cringe. The stupid shit they’d done. Oooh yeah, no. He needed to stop thinking about this. 

Ramuda snickered. “I figured. You know everything about each other, don’t you~?” 

What did that mean? “What does that mean?!” 

“You know what that means!” Ramuda grinned, wandering toward the front of the office. He was still typing away at his phone. No elaboration on this either. Fine then. 

Doppo heaved a heavy sigh and followed. Now where was a marker and some paper? 

--- 

The amount of admin work that had rolled in over the weekend, while not overwhelming, was stunning. Doppo had marketing emails, order confirmations, delivery notifications, inquiries, event reminders, collaboration requests-- and that was just the main company inbox, getting started on processing last week’s work expenses was another beast. Had Ramuda kept the receipt for the catering? Or was Doppo the one that had gotten that? 

Phew. It was tucked in the tray he’d picked for expense paperwork. Past Doppo hadn’t let him down. He flicked through the small stack of papers. It seemed like it was a somewhat large volume for two people’s weekly spending. He paused at a print out of a credit-card statement. That was the Izakaya they’d gone to on Thursday! How was that a business expense?! 

It had been with some of the models, so he supposed it was something of a business dinner. In a way. But he had to wonder if it was a common occurrence for Ramuda to put frivolous things like this on a company card. Wasn’t that toeing the line of business ethics or something? 

Who was he kidding. Ramuda? Business ethics? That man had his own moral code, if any at all. Was there even a company spending policy? 

Doppo clicked open the pdf version of the employee handbook. Which, he figured, Ramuda had created just for him, seeing that Ramuda had been running the show alone since... whenever the company had been founded? 

A quick detour over to wikipedia it was. Empty Candy... Tokyo, Shibuya Ward Fashion Brand. Previously Empty Flower. He hadn’t known that there had been a name change at one point. For a rebrand, the slight change didn’t have any obvious benefits. Founded Reiwa XX by Maijou Hanabi? 

That was a new name. He’d thought that this was Ramuda’s business from the beginning. But he supposed having a business partner was needed to start something big like a fashion brand. Why hadn’t he heard anything about them? 

Knowing Ramuda they’d had a falling out. 

So the company was about six years old. How much of that had been just Ramuda, and how long had he and this Maijou been a team? Had there been employees before? 

He clicked back to the PDF. Maybe it was Maijou Hanabi who’d written this handbook, back before the company was called ‘Empty Candy’. Maybe they’d worked together on it. Doppo scrolled down, looking for business expenses. There was a section, but as opposed to what he’d hoped: a clear and defined explanation of what could and could not be expensed, it was very short and could be best summed up as ‘at the head designer’s discretion’. 

If Maijou had been involved in the writing of the handbook, they seemed to be just as frivolous as Ramuda himself. That figured. 

Doppo craned his neck to look over the computer monitor into the work floor. The two of them had straightened things up, taken out trash, and brought dirty cups to the kitchen, but it was still an absolute disaster of sewing supplies across every surface. Ramuda, legs kicking thoughtfully in the air, had returned to where Doppo had found him that morning, laying on his stomach and carefully sticking rhinestones down in neat lines. He looked like a natural part of the chaotic tableau, colorful socks moving back and forth, pink hair particularly fluffy from air-drying all that morning. 

It felt lonely. Just the one designer surrounded by cloth scraps and sewing accessories. 

He was making too many assumptions. Ramuda surrounded himself with so many people that seeing him working solo was strange, and that was all. Or it could have been that Doppo himself was part of a pair-- Hifumi and Doppo, Doppo and Hifumi-- so learning once again that Ramuda had once had a ‘partner’, not Jakurai, but this other designer, but no longer did, may have made him feel uneasy. 

Doppo shook his head. Ramuda’s business was Ramuda’s business, both literally with Empty Candy and more metaphorically in terms of his personal life. 

Speaking of business, what was Ramuda even designing? To his understanding, the Spring collection was done. He peeked over again. 

“I know I’m cute, but staring’s rude Docchi.” Ramuda peered over his shoulder lazily, the stick of a lolly poking out from the corner of his mouth. Doppo flinched down to hide behind the monitor. The cackle he got in return was enough for him to not ask. He was going to stay in his desk bubble and worry about desk-based things. Let the artist art. 

The ‘arting’ lasted the entire week. 

Every morning, Doppo would come into work. Every morning, he would find Ramuda sleeping or furiously working in an unlikely place. Asleep at one of the tables, half way through a ruffled pleat. Pressed up against the wall, feet tucked against the base of a mannequin as he tried to stretch a piece of fabric into place. In the kitchenette with a cold cup of coffee on the countertop, his body curled in a cabinet corner, fast asleep. Once, Ramuda had not been present in the work space at all as he came in. Gentaro was however, sitting at the base of the stairs up to the second floor, a book lazily propped open in one hand. He smiled in an easy way, both welcoming and difficult to read, and inclined his head a bit in greeting. 

“Our Darling Leader--” Gentaro glanced up the stairs. “Is sleeping. And is not to be disturbed.” 

The door to the second floor cracked open, just a sliver. Gentaro cleared his throat and raised his voice pointedly. “Ramuda is sleeping. And should be in bed. Horizontal. Preferably not moving. Eyes closed. And Dice is most certainly making sure of this fact, and is not, yet again, distracted by phone slots, thus FORFEITING OUR WAGER--” 

The door clicked closed abruptly. There were hushed, muffled voices, one high and protesting, the other lower and slightly desperate. Then there was silence. 

Gentaro continued to smile, and turned his attention back to his book. 

Okay then. Doppo was just going to continue with his admin unless he was told otherwise. 

All three of the members of Fling Posse were in and out of Empty Candy for the rest of the week. Dice came bearing takeout, sometimes a case of beer. Gentaro mostly stayed sitting in one place in Ramuda’s vicinity, either reading or typing away furiously at a laptop. When Ramuda was in, he was working at an increasing fever pitch. When he was out, Doppo had no clue where was gone, but the amount of incoming emails would increase tenfold. 

Once they hit the weekend, everything went radio-silent and Doppo didn’t know what was happening in Empty Candy at all. It was strange to not have work looming over his head. He’d definitely left on Friday with some unanswered emails and unfinished spreadsheets, but Ramuda had shooed him off without giving him any option to make up the work. No work laptop, no forwarding to his phone. Matenrou had performed Friday night. That was shockingly smooth too. 

While Hifumi worked, Doppo was bereft of things to do. His plants were watered, there wasn’t anything he really cared to watch or read. Allowing himself the bliss of being bundled up in bed got old fast too. 

The idea of a bike briefly came to mind again. He didn’t know where he would go. 

Doppo decided that it was best not to fight his anxiety paralysis at this time. Being a roll in bed (with his red hair, would that be a salmon roe roll?) while watching mindless TV (on his laptop) would have to suffice. Sometimes watching shows about people who are doing worse than you was good for morale. Unfortunately, reality TV was also very, very bad and cringeworthy. 

He ended up switching to Doraemon. He’d watched it so much as a kid it was basically peaceful brain static in the form of a little blue robot cat without ears. Come to think of it, he’d watched it all the way into high school, seeing as Kunio was the right age for it at the time. 

There wasn’t a line he didn’t at least vaguely remember, or a plot beat that was a surprise. Maybe it was weird for a nearly-thirty year old to be watching a children’s anime, but the familiarity was soothing. Besides, Doraemon’s sincere and helpful personality, even though he often made mistakes alongside his human friend Nobita; that ‘trying to do his best’ aspect made Doppo feel like he has a kindred spirit. Although, Doraemon wasn’t nearly as gloomy as he was. 

And so the day passed with him not leaving bed, marathoning Doraemon, only getting up for the toilet and to receive takeout. 

Part of him really felt like shit for doing nothing the entire day. A day off, finally, and he spent it like a potato in bed. Another part of him-- that part sounded like Jakurai-- felt like he needed the rest desperately. It had been a weird couple of weeks. Such a weird and stressful couple of weeks. Maybe he couldn’t be blamed for wanting to mindlessly watch cartoons and stay in his pajamas all day. 

Who was he kidding, he was a useless lump of a human being for wasting a day. 

It did feel good, though. 

A short time after the sun had gone down and the brightness of day had faded into the bustle of Shinjuku’s night, Doppo was stirred from sleepiness by the ring of his cellphone. 

He rolled over, groping for his phone on the nightstand. His clock showed that it was only 5:00, so it wasn’t too late to be strange. Maybe it was Hifumi? He’d worked the lunch service that day at Fragrance, so he would probably be headed home about now. 

The display showed an unfamiliar number, though. With a furrowed brow, he flipped his cell open and answered. “H’llo?” He scowled, cleared his throat, and continued. “I mean, uh. Hi, this is Kannonzaka?” 

“Hello, this is Yumeno.” Gentaro’s voice filtered through the speaker, sounding a touch distracted. More distantly, Doppo could hear more voices, and Gentaro moving away from the phone to say something softly to someone. Gentaro continued. “Is this a bad time?” 

Doppo sat up in bed. “Um, no, I mean not really?” How did Gentaro get his number? 

“Good, good. I would ask a favor of you. If you could, please go pay Ramuda a visit this evening.” There was some rustling from the speaker. “Apologies. Like I was saying. Please? I would owe you a great debt.” 

“Huh?” Doppo shifted to get more comfortable in his position on his bed. “Why?” 

“Well, Dice has lost his phone. Again.” Was there a story there? It sounded like there was. “And I am busy at a mystery authors’ event this evening. So I cannot.” 

There was a beat of silence as Doppo waited for elaboration. There was none. “Ah... okay? I should be able to.”

Gentaro released a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Please bring a small meal from the convenience store as well. And perhaps a can of iced coffee. I would be most grateful. Ramuda is so loath to ask for assistance during times such as these.” 

Times such as what? Then again, Ramuda had been working hard on something the entire week. Even if he hadn’t said anything specific about it, it was clear from... well, everything. 

“I can do that, yeah.” Doppo got out of bed, already searching for some sweatpants to throw on. “Is... is Amemura okay?” 

Gentaro chuckled. “Oh, perhaps, but the final hours of anything can lead us into dire straights. You would understand that, yes?” 

Doppo did. He’d totally crashed out just a while ago from a crunch time work binge. He cringed at the memory. “What’s he working on? I thought we’d gotten all the Spring line stuff settled?” Doppo had been working steadily at the remaining logistics. Ramuda hadn’t said there was anything else he could be helping with.

“Ah. You’re unaware?” Something about the tone made Doppo grind his teeth in irritation. Clearly! “It’s Rakuten Fashion Week starting Monday. He’s finishing the runway line. I believe he does have everything set for the street wear collection, though-- thank you for that.” 

Doppo was vaguely aware of ‘Fashion Week’ as a concept. Some high-profile fashion event... usually in Europe, right? Though, he feels like he’d seen advertisements for a Fashion Week in Shibuya. Made sense Ramuda would be participating. “That’s a big deal, right?” 

“Yes, it is a big deal.” That placating, coy tone, like speaking to a child. Ugh. He was starting to understand Hifumi’s instinctual hatred for the guy. “Regardless, please go see to it that Ramuda does not fall into unconsciousness on the floor. Again.” 

So the incident of Ramuda sleeping on top of rhinestones was not that strange of an occurrence. Pretty disconcerting. “Yes! Of course, I’ll head over shortly.” He would just text Hifumi the situation. “Uh, does Amemura have any allergies or anything?” 

“Hm...” Gentaro deliberated for a second too long to be believable. “He seems to be allergic to maturity, but allergies to food? No.” He chuckled. “If you’ll excuse me. I leave him in your hands.” The call clicked off. 

Doppo stared at his phone for a dumb, sleepy moment. He supposed this was the ‘we don’t work weekends except for when we do’ part of his duties? Even if Ramuda wasn’t assigning him the work, part of his job description was to ‘assist the designer’.

It sounded like he needed to, even if Ramuda wasn’t asking for it. Maybe even because he wasn’t asking for it, when he’d hired someone for just that. 

Hopefully the FamilyMart wasn’t too picked over. 

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, FamilyMart’s shelves were looking a little barren. Six PM on a Saturday, the middle of Shinjuku was prime for parties, hang outs, and social drinking-- all things that required snacks, little single serve sake cups, chuuhai, and cold, ready-made spaghetti. Famichiki too, of course, although the warm case at the counter was pretty empty already. Guess no one could really resist the allure of fried chicken.

So Doppo was left with scant choices on what to feed Ramuda, unless he wanted to try waiting for a restock. There was still oden in the table boiler, but that wouldn’t stay warm long enough to be pleasant eating. Not to mention how badly they reheated. In terms of cold foods, there were a few straggling bento left, a couple of little side dishes, and a single thing of curry pasta. None looked particularly exciting, but all were serviceable.

He hummed in thought, looking between each of the plastic containers. He didn’t know Ramuda’s go-to meals for these sorts of situations. Did he like more ‘Japanese’ food? Did he want a variety? Something comforting? Doppo tried to put himself in Ramuda’s shoes.

No, those would be too small for him. But he did need to take what he knew and make some sort of choice. Gentaro had said there weren’t any restrictions, allergy-wise anyway. He probably would have mentioned if Ramuda was vegetarian, too, so that also wasn’t going to be the case. Milk must also not have been a problem. Ramuda poured creamer into his coffee every morning.

So the question became: What would be the best recharging food for someone who, apparently, had been on a week-long design binge and had to be forced into minimal rest?

He picked up the curry pasta, and after a moment’s hesitation, picked up a small bag of microwavable chicken as well-- for the protein. Simple, one bowl, warm and filling. So long as Ramuda didn’t hate curry for some reason, it was a safe enough bet. He squinted at the curry bowl. There were some peas on top, and half a hardboiled egg... It wouldn’t be a problem. Childish as he was, Ramuda couldn’t be that picky. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t pick things out.

Then again, he definitely could be that picky and get angry. It’s not like he was running off of much sleep. Doppo grimaced and pulled a cafe au lait from among the beverages in the cooler. His trepidation had him pull out a black Boss Coffee too. Then a couple of bags of whatever candies were in the brightest bags. Fuck. A slice of roll-cake too. There was no way he was going to deal with a pissy, hungry, tired-- he decided to get a large bottle of sports water-- probably dehydrated man with the size and temperament of a middle-schooler without hedging his bets with a decent amount of sweets. Was it too much, though?

The bored young woman behind the counter didn’t seem to be judging him for his snack decisions. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention at all, actually. Her voice was chipper and her smile was bright as she checked him out but... well, Doppo could tell from her eyes that she was the one checked out. That was one of the unquestionable benefits of buying from a convenience store. No matter his anxiety or choices or the pressures of society to fit into expectations, the person behind the store counter would be impatient at worst and apathetic the rest of the time.

Truly a unique bastion away from judgement, convenience stores.

“Do you have a point card?”

Doppo nodded to that absentminded smile, handing the plastic rectangle over for scanning. And then handing over another for payment, albeit in a different color. Wait, no, he had cash on him, didn’t he? Ah, it was too late. Credit it was.

Doppo sheepishly took his cards back, nodding yes to a bag and no to utensils before mumbling his thanks and taking the bags of Ramuda food.

As he carried it toward Empty Candy’s atelier, he belatedly realized that his bag wasn’t really too heavy. In fact, he had not bought an unreasonable amount of food at all.

A boisterous group passed him by, coming out of a Lawson. Teenagers, or maybe college students. Their arms were laden with bags drooping with the weight of snacks and drinks.

Right, it wasn’t odd to buy multiple drinks or snacks. Most people probably did it regularly. For friends or lovers or family members.

One of the young men pulled out a korokke to eat. A young woman kicked him, presumably for the sin of maybe eating while they were on the go.

Shame washed over him. Embarrassed for his overreaction in the store. (Of course the cashier wouldn’t care. No one would have noticed or looked his way anyway.) Hollowed by the fact he hadn’t done a big convenience run for years. (Not without Hifumi, anyway. Not because he had other people to share it with.)

It was all stupid. These feelings and concerns. Even the sickly feelings in his stomach were stupid. Made him feel stupid.

A snake eating its tail. Shame feeding shame feeding shame.

It was the littlest things. He’d just gotten snacks for his boss, and now he was kicking himself for not having friends, for being awkward, for anything he could find to hate about himself.

He even felt bad that he was feeling bad. Hell, he felt bad that he wasn’t walking faster!

Not... not that he was going to be late. There wasn’t a time he was supposed to be there. Ramuda wouldn’t even know he was coming. Probably.

And now he was worrying that Ramuda would be pissed he was being bothered. How was it Doppo’s place to fuss over him and foist food on him and--

Well. He was going. He’d brought food. He’d told Gentaro he would. If everything went bad he would deserve it.

----

Doppo didn’t need to go into Empty Candy to find Ramuda. The lights were off. The work floor was covered in shadow, the windows’ glare making it impossible to see any details. There wasn’t any movement. The whole street seemed quiet, despite the glow of signs and porchlights. A cat ran across the way. Or a tanuki. Or maybe a particularly large rat. It had been a flash of movement and not much more.

Just in the alleyway next to the shop, the cherry of a cigarette burned red in the dark. The smell of it felt heavy in the muggy air, suffocating in the way that reminded him of the cramped booth at the neighborhood cafe his father frequented; it had been in the ‘smoking section’ once upon a time.

Ramuda looked muted in that kind of gloom. Smoking, staring off into nothing and at nothing, his bright pastels muddied into browns and grays. Deep shadows were cast under his eyes like bruises from the light of his cigarette, held carefully between pale fingers.

For that quiet moment, Ramuda looked so small.

Doppo knew Ramuda wasn’t a big man by any means. The top of his head only reached Doppo’s chin. He was slight enough to fit in strange corners and crevasses of the shop, and light enough for both members of Fling Posse, one of which did not seem very strong at all, to lift with little effort.

But Doppo couldn’t say he’d ever seen him as small. Not in this way, where his shirt hung off his frame and his eyes looked dark and unfocused. A ghost haunting the narrow places of Shibuya.

Ramuda didn’t notice him a beat longer than he would have expected. Even after looking up and looking directly at Doppo, it was still a second before he flinched. Same visceral surprise he’d had that morning in the kitchen. He fumbled with his cigarette, bit out a sharp hiss of pain, dropped it.

“Don’t-- Don’t DO that.” Ramuda gave the cigarette on the ground a sad look, then ground it under his heel, perhaps a bit more aggressively than was warranted.

Doppo’s breath hitched, shoulders tensing. “Sorry--!” He squeaked out. “I didn’t want to...”

What. Startle him?
Goddamn it, Doppo.

Ramuda cursed under his breath. The string of words were hard to parse, but none of them could be polite, and all of them were definitely colorful. At least one ‘fuck’, a ‘fucking’, and two ‘bastards’. At least.

Ramuda fished around in his pockets and pulled out a carton from the back left. He flipped it open, scowled, then threw it into the dark forcefully, angrily, overhand. It hit the ground with a hollow, dull sound.

Head bowed, eyes darting to anywhere that wouldn’t catch Ramuda’s gaze, Doppo lifted his FamilyMart bag. It crinkled in his hand. “Food?”

He hazarded a glance at Ramuda. While still tired, there was a feverish brightness to the intensity of Ramuda’s gaze. Ramuda opened his mouth to say something. He sighed instead. Body slumping as if a great weight had dropped from him suddenly.

“Gentaro sent you over, huh. He’s so nosy...” Ramuda shoved his hands into his pockets. The spark of anger fizzled out like the crushed cigarette. “It’s your day off. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Doppo lifted the bag again, drawing Ramuda’s attention to it. “I. Uh. We don’t work weekends except when we do, right?” He mumbled. “You’ve been working.” It was a fact. He wasn’t questioning whether Ramuda had been working, and he wouldn’t take an excuse.

Ramuda stared. “...Right.” He didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “It. It is my brand, Docchi. Gotta take care of it.” The intended cheer in his voice fell flat. There was meaning there that Doppo wasn’t getting. It weighed down Ramuda’s voice.

“And I work here too, now. So.” Doppo fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I. Have to take care of you.” He took a breath, forcing himself into eye contact. Squaring his shoulders, he continued. “I have cake.”

Ramuda was quick to look away. He slid his foot back, just an inch, like he was considering stepping backwards, but stopped. His hand, once holding a cigarette, twitched agitatedly. It settled on grasping the top of his button up’s sleeve, right below he shoulder. It was a tight, strained movement. He took a deep breath. In. Out. Doppo could see his shoulders move up and down.

“You should have led with that.” Ramuda smiled. He was either too tired or too drained for it to be a big bright grin, but it was something.

Doppo made a soft, strangled yelp as he found a hand wrapping around his wrist. Ramuda’s fingers were cold, and trembled, just slightly. He had let go of his white-knuckled grip upon himself to very carefully grab onto Doppo.

“Yaaay~ Docchi brought cake to meeee~! Come on, come on!” Ramuda tugged with very little force. Doppo followed the pull anyway, heading inside to the thankfully air conditioned interior of Empty Candy. Ramuda didn’t bother to flip on the lights, stumbling a bit over a bin on the floor. Doppo managed to stretch his arm from where Ramuda held him fast and hit a switch. Good thing too, as it was as much of a mine field of art supplies today as it had been all week.

The door to the kitchenette was bypassed as they headed deeper. Considering that was Doppo’s first guess for where they would be having a meal, he felt a little disoriented and off kilter. They passed the changing rooms, the tailoring mirror, the bathrooms. Into unknown territory.

Ramuda pulled him up the stairs.

---

Somehow, the space beyond the second floor door was both exactly what Doppo expected and a total surprise. The stairs lead up to a lounge of sorts. Neon lights, bright colors, odd bits of decor-- was that an arcade racing machine? And SLOTS?! It was cohesive, despite the strange choices in decorations, both smooth and modern with low lighting and a lcd screen-topped coffee table as well as stand out and eccentric, almost reminding him of an American comic book.

He found himself sat on a leather couch, hands wrapped around the now somewhat tepid Cafe au Lait from the FamilyMart trip. Ramuda was across from him, knelt on the floor. The carpet beneath his knees was covered in jewel-tone colors; blue and orange and purple like splashes of paint. It should have been garish, but it was only eye-catching. Each swath of color cried ‘I’m here, I’m here!’ like the splatter of an abstract painting.

There was a famous artist who did that, wasn’t there? ‘Pol’ something. Maybe he should have paid better attention in high school, or to Hifumi’s excited ramblings at visits to art museums. They hadn’t gone often, but Hifumi had always been extremely fixated on western art-- the odder, shinier, and fantastical the better. There was this one painting of flowers in the National Museum of Western Art that was so bright, with its dynamic lines, it popped off the canvas. Hifumi had spent so much time looking at that one piece...

The crinkling of the bag brought Doppo out of that train of thought. Ramuda was digging in, pulling out the candies, the cake. He paused, staring in derisively at the remaining contents.

Ah. So Doppo had fucked up somewhere. That figured.

Ramuda didn’t comment though, rolling his eyes and unpacking the rest onto the table. He considered for a second, smiled, then hopped up. “I’m gonna reheat this pasta. You can have some of the candy!”

Gosh, thanks. As if Doppo hadn’t bought the food himself. But hey, he wouldn’t turn down a gummy or two. He nodded, and watched Ramuda retreat through some glass doors. Beyond, Doppo could see a brightly lit studio table, a sewing machine, and a small rack of clothes. A little work area. Why was Ramuda working downstairs, if he had his privacy here? Doppo squinted. Upon inspection, it looked like the white surface of the table was already covered in scraps of light brown paper, in bits of fabric and loose colored pencils.

Ah. It was already full. Doppo was kind of surprised that the lounge area remained clean and clear of the craftmageddon.

He leaned over, opening one of the candy bags to pluck out a couple of pieces. Popping one in his mouth, he leaned back on the plush, yellow back of the couch. How was he so exhausted? He’d literally done nothing all day. His head lolled back lazily to stare at the ceiling.

Okay. The gaming machines felt like it was pushing what could be counted as ‘lounge furniture’. An entire pinball machine made flat for a lighting fixture, though? That was way too much. Buying that was the most too much thing Ramuda had ever done.

...Doppo didn’t have the energy to react. Or care. He stayed staring blankly at the ceiling.

Ramuda returned a couple minutes later from the same sliding door, the curry pasta now warm and lightly steaming.

Notably, the peas and the egg were both missing, the curry and noodles the only parts left. Picky like a kid. Doppo really should have known. Why had he picked something he was unsure about?

“If you wanna heat up your chicken, I can show you the microwave up here. Or there’s the one downstairs.” Ramuda flopped himself down in the pink loveseat, holding the pasta up to stabilize it as he got comfortable.

Doppo blinked slowly. “I... I uh.” Oh, he supposed the chicken was separate. “I got that for you. Protein’s... important.”

Ramuda blinked right back. “Do you see how little I am? I don’t need all this food!” Ramuda waved him off with the hand holding his chopsticks.

“Curry pasta’s not a full meal or anything! You need some kind of-- you tossed the egg, so where are you going to get protein?!” Doppo was startled by the force of his irritation. He sat forward abruptly and pointed himself right at Ramuda.

“It’s fine, I’ve got more than enough protein or whatever!” Ramuda slurped up some of his noodles. Pointedly. Maintaining eye contact. He leaned over and grabbed the can of black coffee, opened it, and took a sip.

“From where?!” Doppo gestured to the spread. “That’s your protein!” He gestured, open palmed, to the bag of probably no longer chilled chicken.

“It’s too much food.” Ramuda protested, taking another bite of his pasta.

“Then you’re not gonna have the cake either?” That was surprising. Doppo was relatively certain he knew the response before it was going to be said.

“Nuh uh! I’m totally eating the cake! And aaaaaall the candy!”

“But chicken’s too much food!?”

“I’ve got a different stomach for sweets.”

“Bullshit!” Doppo leaned over and snatched up the candies and the roll cake. Ramuda let out a shrill cry of dismay.

“Docchi, no! Those are miiiiiiine!”

“Not unless you eat all your real food, first!” Doppo nodded sharply at the chicken. He gave the remaining items a long look. Ramuda hadn’t touched the bottle of water. “ And hydrate!” He nudged the bottle forward with his elbow.

Ramuda glared and nudged it back with a socked foot.

Doppo nudged it forward. Ramuda back.

Doppo fixed him with a flat look. “You’ve got to hydrate. When did you have water last?”

Ramuda hummed a series of sounds that sounded distinctly like ‘I dunno’, and shrugged. He took a drink of his coffee.

“Coffee isn’t hydration.” It was better than nothing, but Doppo was pretty damn sure it wasn’t hydrating. “Drink your damn water.”

“Water’s boring. I don’t wanna.” Ramuda dismissed him.

“No cake, then.” Doppo watched as Ramuda’s face fell, and his eyes filled up with tears. For a split second, he had the instinct to apologise, to back down and soothe away the distress.

But then he remembered who he was dealing with.

“Doppo is-is so m-meaaan--” Ramuda hiccuped. He hadn’t even bothered to move from his lounging position in the love seat, the little sneak.

Doppo scowled. “I’m going to tell you what Hifumi told me.” His tone was patient. There were many a day where Hifumi had pinned him somewhere-- against a wall, on the couch, in a corner, anywhere really-- and shoved a water bottle into his face. He’d been resistant, not wanting to be fussed over, not wanting to be treated like a child. He didn’t need water, he was fine, he knew his own body and all. Nevermind his exhaustion and burgeoning headaches at the time.

Hifumi always said the same thing.

Doppo sat down his hoarded sweets and cafe au lait on the couch, grabbed the bottle of water, and stalked over to push it into Ramuda’s space. Ramuda turned away like a petulant toddler.

“Hydrate. Or diedrate.” Doppo pushed it into Ramuda’s space with more force.

“I don’t-- I don’t wanna--” Ramuda kept squirming around, trying to dodge the insistence. Doppo didn’t let up, expression intent and fully serious.

“You have to hydrate or you’ll diedrate, it’s a fact!” He was going to get Ramuda to drink some water if it was the last thing he did.

“Nooooo--” The whining and crocodile tears were starting to break, Ramuda’s voice wavering. “I don’t wanna! I have coffee--”

“Not good enough!”

They stared at each other for a long second. Ramuda set the coffee on the table. Then the curry. He snatched the water bottle from Doppo’s hands.

The air was tense.

Ramuda burst into giggles, and the tension snapped, rebounding into Doppo’s face. “Ugh. Fineee. I don’t wanna ‘diedrate.’ And I’ll eat the stupid chicken too. Just let me have the cake.”

Doppo sighed with his entire body, his shoulders sagging as he all but fell back onto the couch.

What the fuck. On one hand, what the fuck, why did he say that stupid immature shit? Because Hifumi said it? Because Hifumi was the best at taking care of people?

...Probably, actually.

On the other hand, why did Ramuda fight him so much? For laughs? Because he enjoyed ticking Doppo off?

Probably also yes.

Whatever.

Whatever the motive, whatever worked, Ramuda was drinking water now. He microwaved the chicken too, dumping it in the remnants of the curry sauce to try to season what was essentially grilled chicken tossed into a bag.

Exhaustion set into Doppo’s bones. The guy who had been working for days on end was bouncing and chattering and kicking his feet, but Doppo? Who had a proper break? Tuckered out. Absolutely wiped.

Ramuda absolutely demolished the sweets too. Doppo didn’t have much of an opportunity to try and get any more after his first few tastes of it. The chicken was gone, then the water was gone, then the cake and candy was suddenly empty. Doppo couldn’t discount that he may have dissociated there a bit, but that still felt a bit silly in how fast it was.

On top of the bags and bags of gummies and wafers, he produced a lollypop from somewhere too, finishing his meal by popping it in his mouth and laying sideways across the chair.

Ramuda lazily watched Doppo from his perch. “You can tell Gen-chan to stop worrying now. I got my food and water and stuff. I’m fine.”

Doppo nodded sluggishly in recognition.

“...Soooo... You did your job and whatever. Go home?”

Doppo looked up with the same amount of energy as he’d had nodding. Which was none. He checked his phone. At some point, Hifumi had sent him a thumbs up emoji to his text message. It was about eight o’clock. Not exactly late, but not really early in the evening either.

He sat and thought for a second. What were the chances that Ramuda would just go back to working? High? Very high. What were the chances of him sleeping? Low.

Doppo shook his head. “If you’re working, I’m working.” Ramuda gave him a blank look.

“Unless you’re going home?” Silence.

“Okay, then we’re both working.” Doppo stood up, picking up the remaining snack trash and shoving it in the shopping bag for disposal. “Are you going to be downstairs, or in your office?” He assumed the work room passed as Ramuda’s office. He didn’t see a computer from here, but considering there was at least a microwave also that way, there must have been more out of view. There had been that one time that Ramuda had showered and changed clothes too.

Was this his living space? If up here was the same size as the shop space downstairs, it probably could solidly be a 1LDK. Huge ‘dining room’ area, though. Couldn’t imagine how tiny the amenities were. Where did he sleep? In a closet?

“I don’t need you to work.” Ramuda sat up. “What would you do? You don’t even know how to do a straight stitch.”

Okay first of all. “My mom taught me, actually. Hifumi fixes most of our stuff, but I can sew in a pinch.” Rude. He liked it, actually. Mending little tears, tucking in little seams. Very relaxing.

Why didn’t he do more of that, again?

There was an unreadable look on Ramuda’s face. Like he didn’t understand. Doppo continued. “It doesn’t matter what I can do-- I’ll... I’ll answer emails or something. What matters...” How did he put this?

“What matters is that we’re a team.” When had anyone ever done something like this for him? He remembered those long nights at E.L. Medical. No one volunteered to take any of his work. No one stayed behind with him. Yet they’d always said that in meetings. They were a team.

“What matters is that we’re a team. So I’ll be here. For you.” With you? Doppo pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you need more snacks. Or supplies? Or someone to hold down a corner-- uh, look. I don’t know what you’re doing, or what you need for it, but I’m going to be here.”

Ramuda sat and stared at him, then stood. “...You’re weird.” He mumbled, refusing to look Doppo’s way. He made his way over to the stairs. “I’m gonna work down here. And... I guess if I need anything I’ll tell you. Do what you want.”

He quietly padded down the stairs, not looking to see if Doppo followed.

What an infuriating guy. Really. Just the most contradictory. Clingy and begging for attention in the day, acting stubborn and broody at night. At least Doppo had experience with this kind of two-faced attitude. Even with Hifumi, at least half of him pissed Doppo the hell off. This wasn’t any different from dealing with that obnoxious host mode.

At least whatever emotions Ramuda was straining to hide here, they were real. Vulnerable. Better than looking at a facade, in a way.

Doppo followed him downstairs. He should probably search up a few take out places that delivered late-- just in case.

---

Ramuda fell asleep sometime between two and three AM. Doppo knew this because he hadn’t been shouted at to get this supply or that since he’d started working on an invoice spreadsheet, and that had been after fetching another skein of ribbon from the upstairs storage. The office clock had said 1:50ish then, and now his laptop showed it being 3:03.

Peering over to where Ramuda was sat at a drafting table... yeah, he hadn’t moved or said anything. Not recently. His head was down, and his back gently moved up and down with breath. The portable sewing machine wasn’t humming, his fingers weren’t moving. Out cold.

Doppo shook his head, smiling a little. He could say from experience that sleeping bent over like that was not good for your back. It didn’t matter how tired you were from working, no one should ever let you sleep that way.

Not that he extended that kindness to himself, of course, but hey, he didn’t deserve that kind of care. If he got back pain, he got back pain. This was his boss. He wasn’t going to let a young guy like Ramuda need to go to a chiropractor.

Doppo stepped around the supplies on the ground to gently shake Ramuda’s shoulder. “Um... hey, let’s not sleep here, okay?” He said quietly, nervous about once again spooking him. Ramuda didn’t budge, moving along with the shake.

“You should go home. It’s three am. Wouldn’t a bed be better? Hey...” Ramuda didn’t wake at any of Doppo’s attempts. Poking, patting, more shaking. It was as if every ounce of strength had left his body.

Shit, what did he do now?

Doppo looked around the room. There wasn’t exactly a place to put him for good rest. Maybe that was why he kept finding Ramuda on the floor. But Gentaro had mentioned that he had been forcing Ramuda to sleep upstairs.

He eyed Ramuda’s sleeping form warily.

If a weak author like Yumeno could do it, surely Doppo could.

Awkwardly, Doppo slid Ramuda’s chair out, looping an arm around his chest to keep him upright. It was not the easiest position to pick someone up out of, but he’d been right in that Ramuda was almost disconcertingly light. He shifted Ramuda to lean against him and put one arm under his legs, hoisting him up the same way someone would hold a baby.

It was extremely unwieldy. Ramuda was not baby sized. But he couldn’t drunk shoulder carry someone asleep, and the only other way he knew how to hold a person was like a little kid! It’s not like he had a habit of carrying people, but when Kunio had been little, his brother had been so clingy.

It worked though, this baby-style carry. Doppo could haul Ramuda up the stairs and into the lounge without too much issue, even if there was a lot of effort. He could even slide open the glass door with his foot to peek inside. He’d been right that there was more, but there really wasn’t a lot more. Searching for a soft place to put the sleeping fashion designer down, he was faced with the fact that it really wasn’t a lot more.

There was a toilet. A bathroom. A closet. A kitchenette with a microwave, hot plate, small refrigerator and freezer. A locked door. Another closet? Unless that was it, there was no bedroom in sight.

Doppo nudged the closet open. Maybe Ramuda just used a futon in the lounge.

The closet mostly had extra sewing supplies. There were a few changes of clothes too, some household cleaning things, tape and other random objects. No futon, though. Something thick like that would be obvious. Unless he was mistaking it for a bolt of cloth?

If he was, he couldn’t tell.

Doppo turned around. That sort of only left one option. Couches it was. Ramuda was small enough that he would fit on one easily.

He placed Ramuda down gently on the yellow couch, the sleeping man grumbling sleepily and turning onto his side, his knees tucking up toward him. That was at least one thing solved.

He hadn’t seen blankets or pillows either, though, so that was a whole other one.

Ultimately, Doppo had found the plushest looking fabrics in the closet and did his best. One under Ramuda’s head, another unspooled to try and cover some of him.

It was haphazard, but at least he wasn’t sleeping at a table. Or on the floor. Or against a wall.

Doppo rubbed at his eyes tiredly. What now? Ramuda was out. There clearly wasn’t a bed.

In good conscience, he couldn’t leave Ramuda alone like this. He’d literally worked himself into unconsciousness.

That being said, his own bed called for him. And it was Sunday tomo-- today. So he could sleep as much as he needed to. No work.

He probably needed to come in and enforce that Ramuda didn’t just wake and work, huh.

What a pain.
Doppo checked his phone. It was just getting later and later. Or earlier and earlier?

He had a few text messages. Hifumi worrying about him and asking about his wellbeing. Of course. He probably should go home just so he could soothe Hifumi’s nerves in the morning. There was a couple from an unknown number too. The same one from before-- Gentaro.

[UNKNOWN] I assume our precious angel is safe in your hands =^w^=

Okay the emoji wasn’t expected.

[UNKNOWN] Good work today, if so! Hopefully he went to bed and ate like a good boy.
[UNKNOWN] I managed to find Dice, so either he or I will be on Ramuda minding duty tomorrow. Thank you again for being amenable to our whims.
[UNKNOWN] So get some rest. One of us will be by his side before he wakes.

Doppo’s tired gaze softened. That assuaged his worries some. Ramuda’s proper minders would return, and he could go home and get his own rest.

They were probably better at this anyway.

With a tired sigh, Doppo considered his options. One and a half hours until first train. Taxis were expensive. Walking? No.

Fuck it. Taxi. He wanted minimal thinking and moving between here and his bed.

Chapter Text

Doppo slept well into the next day, having hit his pillow and immediately fallen asleep, day clothes and all. Thankfully yesterday’s clothes had been for resting anyway, so he slept comfortably, wrapped in his blanket and the softness of a well worn-in sweatsuit.

Hifumi did not wake him in the morning, nor disturb his rest with sound and commotion. Instead, Doppo simply found that his door had been cracked open, and Hifumi was curled on the couch with a book and some tea, relaxing in a beam of sunlight. The warm rays illuminated his hair, glinting gold off of the strands.

Doppo could not admit, even to himself, that he was staring, taking a long moment to drink in the quiet comfort of the late morning.

Hifumi had seemingly eaten breakfast already, a small dish on the coffee table with crumbs left on its surface, and his tea mug only half full on the coaster. Doppo felt a pang of disappointment sink in his chest. Breakfast together was one of their favorite things to do, but Doppo had made Hifumi eat alone. He wasn’t going to blame Hifumi for being hungry of course, but he struggled to push the empty feeling away.

He was still standing, watching dumbly, when Hifumi noticed his presence. His roommate smiled, eyes and nose crinkling in the delighted way Doppo only got to see in the safety of their own home. The chill of disappointment melted into the spring warmth of that smile.

“G’morning, Doppo.” Hifumi’s voice was not boisterous energy, nor was it dramatic facade. It was soft, unwilling to break the stillness, and cheerful. The face of a sunflower rather than the yellow roses he often wore.

Or maybe Doppo was the sunflower, considering how he turned himself toward Hifumi like the sun.

How tired was he, that he was waxing poetic while sleepily standing in his bedroom doorway? He was fresh out of bed, clothes rumpled. Hair rumpled. The skin of his cheek sort of rumpled from the creases in his pillow. It was nothing Hifumi hadn’t seen before, but Doppo felt uniquely stupid in that moment.

“Mornin’.” Doppo rubbed at his eye, finally breaking out of his reverie enough to mumble a response. He crossed the room to sit on the couch as well, leaning just slightly on the warmth of Hifumi’s side as the cushion dipped.

Hifumi put his book on the table, pages splayed open face down, and raised a hand to pat the top of Doppo’s head. His fingers stayed there for a moment, fussing with the messy red locks and lightly rubbing at his scalp, then retreated, hand moving back to cover a yawn.

Doppo did not resist the yawn that overtook him shortly after, his fist coming up in an instinctive attempt to also cover his mouth. The yawn was wide, and the gesture did nothing.

“Did you sleep okay? You got home really late.” Hifumi settled back into the couch, pushing back into the lean of Doppo’s shoulder.

“Mm hm. I was out like a light.” Doppo rubbed the back of his head. “I sort of knew that... you know, Fling Posse was a mess, but that was a whole other level.”

It was just the impression he got.

Gentaro was put together, but oddly wild with his lies and mannerisms. He was always busy, doing this and that, writing his next story.

Dice was an impulsive gambler who was often on the streets. (He felt bad about that, honestly. As much as Dice’s carefree attitude pissed him off-- the reality was that Dice was barely an adult. He’d learned that at the izakaya, as Ramuda taunted Dice for being a ‘wittle baby’. Twenty years old, and living as he was-- Dice was lucky that he had such good friends.)

Ramuda... he’d just struck Doppo as chaotic, unorganized, unpredictable. Jakurai insinuated as such, always so concerned about Ramuda’s trustworthiness, deriding his actions and scowling at his words. Ramuda did seem to be all of those things, too. Quirks of his wild personality that came through between his moments of being a good boss and business owner; of being a hard worker-- more hard working than he would have expected. To the point of neglect, even. It was admirable. It was also extremely concerning.

Hifumi tilted his head. “Yeah, you said you had to go in last night ‘nd bring Amemura dinner or something?” He reached for his tea, holding it between his hands to soak up the ceramic’s warmth.

“It’s apparently Fashion Week next week?” Doppo shrugged his shoulder not occupied by Hifumi. “Or something. He’s finishing stuff for that.”

Hifumi snorted into his mug as he took a sip. “Duh? Where have you been? There’s signs everywhere. Literally everywhere.” He made a vague, circular motion with one of his hands.

Doppo fixed him with an unimpressed look. “It’s not my thing. You know that. So I didn’t really pay attention.” Not that he paid much mind to advertisements anyway. He wasn’t really swayed by celebrity endorsements or tempted to go to events, he didn’t really like shopping or going out. Sometimes the vacation advertisements got him: go to Fiji, visit Hokkaido, etc, etc, but it hardly made him focus on billboards at all.

Apparently, there were even advertisements with Mantenrou’s faces on them, and he couldn’t be bothered to notice.

(That was a lie, every time he saw Hifumi’s face, the glittering gold among the grime of the Shinjuku streets, he was transfixed.)

Hifumi rolled his eyes. “Right.” Doppo didn’t appreciate the tease, but he knew it held no bite. Regardless, he shoved Hifumi’s shoulder to push him off.

“I guess even professionals procrastinate. This is cutting it kind of close, isn’t it?” Hifumi tapped his cheek thoughtfully, stifling laughter all the way.

“He works really hard! He was doing all the work by himself and all!” Doppo frowned, mostly at the instinctual indignation. Ramuda hardly needed to be defended, especially to Hifumi, especially by someone like Doppo, but he still felt like he had to.

Hifumi blinked slowly and took a long sip of his tea. “I wasn’t insulting him or anything. No matter what, you get protective of your bosses, huh, Doppochin.”

Huh?

The confusion must have shown on Doppo’s face, as Hifumi elaborated. “Even with your old baldy boss, if anyone said anything bad about him, you’d jump to his defence. You’d say whatever you wanted about him, but if me or Doc said anything, it was immediately: ‘no it’s not like that!’ or ‘he’s really like this--’, no matter what happened.” Hifumi leaned forward to put his mug back on the table.

Doppo opened his mouth to retort but found no argument. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? Subordinates supported their leadership. It kept a company strong and working efficiently. It just undermined the structure to criticize those at the top.

But his relationship with Ramuda wasn’t like that. Sure, Ramuda was his boss now, but he was still a rap rival, still a chaotic little pain in the ass. It wasn’t harmful at all for Hifumi to criticize him, or make jokes on his behalf. Still, Doppo felt like he had to set the record straight. He sighed heavily.

“Sorry... for snapping and all. I guess I’m still tired.” He suddenly wanted to crawl back in bed, although if it was because he was still tired or because he felt a little ashamed or both... it was probably both.

“No worries. You’re probably hungry too! So hangry.” Hifumi stood up, stretched and picked up his small dish and mug. “I’ll make us breakfast! Though it’s more like brunch, now.” He hummed thoughtfully.

“Didn’t you already eat? You don’t have to... I mean, I can make myself something. You don’t have to cook just because I woke up late.” Doppo stood up after Hifumi, as if to follow, or to stop him. He hadn’t decided which.

Hifumi laughed, ducking into the kitchen to set his dishes in the sink with a soft clink. “Silly! I slept in too. So I waited for us to eat together!”

That was so sweet. Made Doppo feel guilty again, though. Hifumi wanted to spend time with him, to eat together. Hifumi thus had waited to feed himself until Doppo was available. Ergo, if Doppo had woken earlier, Hifumi could have eaten earlier.

“Buuuut,” Hifumi singsonged, popping his head around the kitchen doorway. “If you don’t want me to have to cook, we could just go out. It’s been a while! And we could finally go to that cafe by Jidou park!”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Hifumi kept mentioning a cute cafe he saw when he went to the library to pick up some fun DIY books. If it was on the way there, then it couldn’t have been more than a ten minute walk away. Maximum.

Maybe it would be a good repayment for how weird Doppo had been for the past couple weeks. No apology could really encompass all the stress he’d put Hifumi through, but this could be a start.

“I’ll go get dressed.” Doppo’s voice sounded defeated, but a smile threatened his tired expression.

“Wait up! I’m gonna pick your outfit today! Cute cafe, cute outfit--!”

--------

Unfortunately, said cute cafe was only open Tuesday through Friday. For some reason. Because why wouldn’t it be.

It was alright, though. They were in Tokyo, and there was no shortage of cute cafes to go to in walking distance, and even more if they hopped the train. Hifumi pouted a little in his disappointment, but Doppo promised to go with him another day, even if he had to ask Ramuda for time off.

Considering his midnight vigil, it wouldn’t be too much to ask to come in a little later one Tuesday. That was Hifumi’s only assured day off, and with Doppo’s ostensibly Nine to Five Monday to Friday schedule, they would never make it otherwise.

Doppo would just prepare himself for rejection. He’d never gotten any time off approved before, and bracing himself for the worst was better than hoping for the best.

It wasn’t something he had to worry about immediately, though. Gentaro must have been correct that he or Dice would take up the Ramuda vigil, as Doppo was blissfully left entirely alone by work matters. All day. Properly, this time! He could go to a cafe for brunch (he insisted on paying), then take a leisurely walk through the park to enjoy the fading summer. Not a peep! It even chose not to rain, although Typhoon season was at its peak.

It was almost suspicious how peaceful the day was, and continued to be. It was as if the other shoe was just waiting to drop on disaster, to somehow ruin everything. Maybe it would storm and soak the outfit Hifumi had picked out for him. Maybe he’d run into someone from his old job and they’d be awkward. Maybe some woman would get too in Hifumi’s business and he would have to run defense before the poor man panicked. There were a million ways everything could go bad.

But it didn’t. They went grocery shopping, and there was even a sale on thin-sliced beef. Doppo got to pet a toy poodle the color of the platonic ideal of toast.

He and Hifumi held hands to get through a crowd---

In the late afternoon, they even got to join up with Jakurai for some fishing along the Kanda river, although it was only ever the good doctor who caught anything.

“You’re looking nice today, Doppo.” Jakurai gave him a bit of an eyebrow raise and a smile. He had saved them a spot under a tree, spreading out a picnic blanket in the shade while he had set up next to the water with a camping chair. His bucket was empty, so he hadn’t caught anything he wouldn’t throw back yet.

Doppo flushed, scratching the back of his head. “I uh. It’s not...” He didn’t know how to respond to compliments.

But Hifumi did. “Right? I picked it out!” He glommed onto Doppo’s arm with forceful affection. Doppo barely swayed from the pressure, this time. “He took me out for brunch, and then we...”

Doppo tuned out as Hifumi chattered to Jakurai about their day, choosing instead to sit on the blanket and wipe some sweat from his brow. The direct sunlight couldn’t reach him from below the speckled canopy of branches. He sighed in relief.

Maybe they should have picked up some beer? Or at least some waters.
He leaned against the trunk of the tree. The bark pressed uncomfortably into his back, but the moment of rest beat out his discomfort. The drone of Hifumi and Jakurai’s voices with the soft breeze to cut through the humidity, he was quickly feeling a contented sleepiness wash over him. They would all probably relax here until it began to get dark, putting on some bug spray mid way through, and then maybe all have dinner. If Jakurai was lucky, maybe they would catch something large enough to cook, and Hifumi could prepare it in Jakurai’s nice, modern kitchen, and they could all eat it on the porch. Dr. Jinguji’s house was traditional with calming decor, mostly dark woods and warm lighting. Doppo always found he could relax completely so long as he was there.

That was doubly true in the early summer, where Jakurai would have him help in the small vegetable garden on the side.

Maybe he should ask if Jakurai would let him plant some things he would like to eat, if there was any room. Or if he could put some flowers in for Hifumi. Rose bushes were awfully western, but they fit the classy vibe, at least Doppo thought so.

“--ppo? Oh dear. Are you awake?” Doppo’s eyes shot open to Hifumi settling himself next to him on the blanket, and Jakurai addressing him. Amusement sparkled in Jakurai’s eyes.

Doppo flailed a bit, smacking Hifumi in the face just enough to receive a squawk. “‘M awake! I am-- I am awake.” He’d just gotten so warm and comfortable.

Jakurai chuckled. “I see that. I was asking how your week has been. I’m very sorry that I had to cancel our session.”

Doppo blinked slowly. Oh, he’d actually forgotten that they hadn’t had a check-in this week. The chaos had been too much for him to track his normal, daily life.

“Uh. It’s not a big deal. I’m doing okay.” Which was actually true. Sure, it had been a weird, weird set of days, but he’d gotten to have time to himself after work, slept enough, and outside of the stress of Ramuda’s erratic behavior, he’d just done admin all week. Nothing stressful, nothing social.

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Jakurai’s smile widened, though Doppo could see a touch of tension around his eyes. He would have missed it, had they not spent so much time together since becoming a team.

Huh.

“Work isn’t too much for you? They’re treating you kindly?” Jakurai turned to where he was preparing his rod, attaching the hook and lure securely to the end of the line.

Where did that come from? Jakurai could have thought it was odd that he wasn’t immediately full of complaints-- he was always full of complaints-- but there was a sincerity to the questions that brought Doppo into full awakeness.

“Ah... no. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” Maybe he should lie, make up something about his baldy boss, or an unfair deadline... but Jakurai would pick up on any sort of lie immediately. That was how he was. Besides. It felt wrong, stressful, to try and make up a new, imaginary stress scenario.

He could always bend the truth and say he’d needed to work late to support a coworker. That would work. It wasn’t a lie.

Still, it felt draining to try and say. It never felt good to lie.

Jakurai nodded, accepting the answer after watching Doppo’s face with the piercing intensity he always did. Right into his soul. Whatever he’d seen there clearly had satisfied him.

Doppo relaxed back against the tree with a relieved sigh. Hifumi patted his shoulder, though it was adjacent to a swat. Payback for the flail to the face, to be sure. Rude but fair.

“That’s certainly good to hear.” Jakurai put the bait on the hook in a swift and decisive movement. Something about it struck Doppo as aggressive. Like a threat.

Ooookay.

Jakurai didn’t bring it up for the rest of the evening. He did, however, catch two trout. Which would make for a really tasty grilled dinner, especially with some pickles. Hifumi’s pickles were amazing... and Jakurai was particularly skilled with a grill. If there was any question about his dad credentials, that would lay it to bed.

Doppo really hoped that skill wasn’t from anything sinister.

-----

Ramuda was conspicuously absent from Empty Candy Monday morning. The showroom of the atelier was clean, everything back in its place. No rhinestones littered the floor, there were no errant scissors nor dirty mugs, there wasn’t even a stray bolt of fabric. It was as if the craft typhoon never swept it. The only thing that wasn’t all tidied and fit for professional customer appointments was the presence of Dice, his feet kicked up on the front desk (Doppo’s desk!!) and a manga magazine held up in front of his face.

“Yo, good mornin’!” Dice grinned broadly, lowering his reading to his legs. Doppo tried not to look annoyed. Dice’s devil-may-care attitude meant that Doppo would never know if he succeeded.

Dice inclined his head toward the back of the shop. “Ramuda’s sleepin’. He told me to man the front ‘til you kicked me out.”

Doppo really, really hoped that no one had come in already. It wasn’t even opening time yet, but he didn’t really trust Dice to not just let someone in if they peered in the window. He rubbed gently under his eye, trying to soothe the twitch that threatened to appear. Regardless, he nodded.

“When did he go to sleep last night?” If it was anything like Saturday, it was probably sometime early this morning.

Dice shrugged. “Late? I dunno, Gentaro had the night shift.”

“Didn’t he tell you to...”

“Okay, Gen told me that Ramuda told him to tell me to man the front. Don’t make it complicated, man.” Dice heaved a sigh, tipping back precariously in the office chair. Doppo flinched forward, like he could stop him from keeling over-- then Dice leaned back forward, settling the chair back down flat.

“So... Mr. Yumeno went home this morning?” Doppo supposed it didn’t matter, but depending on when he and Dice had switched ‘shifts’, that could give him an idea of how much or little he could bother his sleeping boss.

“Nah. He’s also sleepin’.” Dice turned a page in his manga, focus back down at the panels.

Doppo took a second to figure this out logistically. He hadn’t found a bed or futon upstairs. There were two couches and a love seat. Were they each on a couch? Was there a secret bed? Had he missed a futon? Did one of them bring a futon?

Dice didn’t seem bothered by whatever set up they’d decided on. This gave Doppo no information at all, as he had it on good authority (if Jyuto could be said to be a ‘good’ authority) that Dice sometimes slept on park benches. (Why would he do that? Wouldn’t his friends let him stay, if he had nowhere to go?)

Maybe if he ever had the opportunity... he could at least offer a spot on his couch. It was rather comfortable.

“Okay.” What else could Doppo say? He wasn’t about to wake up his sleep deprived boss. “...I do need to kick you out. That’s where I do all my work.”

Dice pouted. “I just got comfy, though!” He whined. “And this is the good part!”

Both valid points. But Doppo prided himself in not being a push over in two matters, and two matters only; one of which was his friends, the other was his work. “Go slack off somewhere else. I’ve got things to do.” The ‘unlike you’ was unvoiced but palpable. Even Dice seemed to pick up on it.

“Lame.” Dice didn’t protest further, though, getting up out of the chair with magazine in tow. “Have fun with your... emails? Or whatever stuff you office types do.”

Dice’s only twenty, Doppo. That was nine years maturity difference. Calm down. “Yeah. I will have fun with my emails or whatever.” He sighed and took his place at the desk. His chair was warm, and he wasn’t sure if he was okay with that.

Dice, for his part, did go to ‘slack off somewhere else’. Somewhere else was up the stairs and disappearing into the lounge, presumably to read manga while his teammates slept? Which struck Doppo as an odd choice, but Fling Posse was an odd group.

Doppo logged into his computer and put all of that out of his mind. The email application didn’t have too many unopened messages. He had responded to much of the weekend build up Saturday night into Sunday morning. There were a few, though, one or two being spam adjacent, the rest looking like they needed replying to, but maybe not right away.

Huh. It was still. No deadline pressed upon them, not hectic energy buzzed. It wasn’t even tense in the stillness, like a great weight had been lifted. Ramuda and the rest of Fling Posse were upstairs resting. The work for Fashion Week was... presumably done? (If Ramuda going to sleep was any indication.) There was work to do, but it wasn’t tight, immediate.

Was this what it was like to actually finish a project and have a moment to breathe?

Again. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it.

He decided to answer the emails. Contractor invoice, media inquiry... oh, this one looked important. Confirmation for Empty Candy’s participation in events, it looked like. Fashion Show in Spiral Hall’s 3F, Fashion Professional Networking Event at TWO ROOMS Rooftop Lounge, Reception and Exhibition at Omotesando Museum, Sweet☆Cute Magazine After Party at... some address in Shibuya. Higashi 1-chome.

Ramuda was busy! Though most of these just seemed like parties. Maybe? Wednesday, Tuesday, Friday, Sunday.

Maybe it was a good thing Ramuda seemed to be an extrovert. Just reading this made Doppo exhausted on principle.

Doppo ended up sighing in sympathy, clicking on the pdf downloads for the tickets-- just in case. One set of hard copies, one set for the harddrive, one set in the email. Usually these kinds of things also had guest lists, so one way or another, Ramuda was sure to be able to get where he was going without hassle. It wasn’t like the little guy could bear any more stress, surely.

Doppo retrieved the printed ticket copies from the printer and straightened them, filing them away in a manilla folder on the desk.

Huh. There were multiple tickets for each event. Maybe Ramuda planned to take a date? Or his posse members? The tickets each had plus ones attached to them too.

The plan was probably to give them out to key people, then. VIPs and industry partners. Doppo hadn’t considered that Ramuda probably had a lot of networking work to do, even with the physical tailoring work done. If Rakuten Fashion Week was anything like Doppo’s overactive imagination said it was, it would be an excellent chance for connection-making, business deals... that kind of thing.

Doppo hadn’t ever needed to do that work. Ever the peon, the little worker ant. Never the butterfly. Honestly? He was grateful for that.

Fling Posse came downstairs hours later, well into the work day. Ramuda looked much better rested, although a little groggy in his attempted cheer, dressed in his typical wear, ribbon tied jauntily around his neck. It was as if he hadn’t done a multi-day project sprint and crash just the night before, and maybe had simply stayed up late.

Alright, there was one atypical thing to the scene, but it was less concerning than it was a touch silly. Completely disconnected from exhaustion. Nothing related to the creative insanity of the weekend.

Ramuda was happily bundled in Gentaro’s haori... cape thing. Gentaro was following Ramuda down the stairs, looking a touch cross and a bit bare without the dark outer layer to cover the white of his kimono.

He thought they’d been napping? What happened-- did Ramuda just steal it?

Dice, yawning, bumbled after them a second or so later, looking disheveled and normal. No hints there.

“G’morning, Docchi!” It was two pm, but who was he to correct Ramuda. His boss was smiling brightly, smug in his self-satisfaction.

“Ah--” Doppo got up and gave him a bow of greeting. “Good morn-- afternoon.” Damn it Ramuda had him doing it too.

“It’s clearly morning.” Gentaro chimed in, his prior irritation dissipating in the face of his apparent instinct to fuck with people.
“No, it ain’t. We were snoozing for a hot minute.” Dice protested, with all seriousness.

“Indeed! All the way into Tuesday morning. Alas!”

Dice’s expression was stricken with panic. “Wait a sec, Ramuda’s got one of those fancy events today, then! I saw it on the calendar and everything! Ramuda, you’ve gotta get goin’!”

Gentaro hummed thoughtfully, glancing over to his leader. Ramuda, clearly amused, tilted his head, then lit up. “Oh! I’ve got the mantle, so I’ve got the honors?”

A nod.

“Ah, but that was a lie.” Ramuda’s impression of Gentaro was actually somewhat uncanny, albeit overdramatized for effect. A cheeky wink and a finger pressed to his lips, his elbow akimbo on his hip. A tilt of the head. Too cutesy. The voice though, that was down pat.

Dice let out a long groan of exasperation, kicking out a foot toward Gentaro and Ramuda, the both of whom scattered out of the way. “You guys SUCK. I can’t believe I still believe shit you say.”

Ramuda laughed, skirting around and dodging Dice’s attempts to grab him-- and Gentaro’s quick and surreptitious try at snatching his haori back. “So what’s up? What did I miss?” He hopped over to the front desk, and then onto a clear space on top of it.

Doppo startled back, had a moment of conflict (to kick his boss off the desk or not to kick his boss off the desk, why did Ramuda always just do what he wanted), and then gave a resigned sigh. “Not much. I printed out your event tickets for this week. Someone named... Ah...ma... ri. Jen...oh?” Doppo squinted at the screen, carefully sounding out the katakana. “Wants to meet with you while they’re here this week. For coffee or drinks, either seems okay with them. And there’s a due date reminder for the Letters of Concept to SweetCute--”

“Sweet☆Cute?” First of all, how did Ramuda do that with his mouth? Second, some sort of expression flitted across Ramuda’s face. Eyes glancing up and to the right. Lips pursing.

“Yes. For the New Years Contest. It looks like you need to get that in by the end of the month, if you want to participate...” Ramuda nodded along. Doppo listed a couple of other things, none of which seemed to phase Ramuda in the slightest.

As he finished, Ramuda crossed his legs and leaned over to better peer at the screen, where Doppo had pulled up the week’s calendar.

“Okay. This week’s schedule is going to be irregular, so we’re going to need to move your hours around.” Ramuda pointed at the latter half of the week. Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday. Event days.
“I’m going to need you here... and here the most.” He pointed out Wednesday and Friday. “The show requires some set up, logistics, whatever, and I’ll need a second set of hands. The exhibition, too, has some prep we’ll need to do. So shift everything to the evening. Start at noon. It’ll be a long haul too, so you can take next week off. Maybe just come in one day for emails? What days is Hifumin off?”

Okay, a lot of information. Sounded like he needed to be Ramuda’s assistant for these fashion events-- the formal-er ones, anyway.The ones that probably needed models and clothes and... Doppo was just going to do whatever Ramuda told him to. He couldn’t start making assumptions now, he didn’t know anything about fashion events.

“Wh... why are you asking?” Seemed sort of weird to be asking for Hifumi’s schedule. Was he looking to somehow schedule around when Hifumi was available to Doppo or-- did he want Hifumi to model? It seemed short notice for that.

“Just tell me, or I’ll call Fragrance myself.” Ramuda huffed. Doppo thought hard for a second, trying to recall the schedule on their kitchen wall.

“Um... Tuesday...” He always had Tuesday. Then Hifumi was covering for someone else on Sunday, so they moved that day off to another weekend adjacent day-- “And Friday?”

“Perf!” Ramuda hopped off the desk. “Don’t have to cash in any favors then. Friday, at the reception. You take one of the tickets and bring Hifumin with you!”

Doppo blinked slowly. He had to be there anyway, so why did he need a ticket-- wait that meant bringing Hifumi as a plus one?

Wasn’t that usually for people’s partners.

“Why?!” His voice squeaked. Why did his voice squeak. “I mean-- why waste a ticket on me? I’m going to be working and it’s not like I’m a guest and, why are you telling me? To bring Hifumi?”

Ramuda shrugged, rolling his shoulders as he took a second to enjoy the fun and silky feeling of Gentaro’s mantle flop with the movement. “Okay first of all, you’re not a designer? So you can work set up and take down, but you should enjoy the event. Free food, music! I’m gonna make you get all buttoned up in a suit-suit, so you might as well get some use out of it.”

Oh. Doppo couldn’t say he’d ever been invited to some sort of... fancy function. It sounded fancy. An exhibition. A ‘suit-suit’.

“Second, don’t you think Hifumi might have some fun at a swanky event like that? Also, he can cover for any of your... uh. Social problems.” Ramuda waved a hand. “And! And. He’s so good looking! I put him in one of my designs, it’s great PR. I get to associate the top Shinjuku host with Empty Candy, Hifumi gets a free party, and you get a social buffer and time to spend with your--” He mulled over a word for a second. “ ‘Roommate’.” Airquotes and all. Doppo’s face matched his hair at this point.

Doppo pulled at the offending locks in stress, as if it would make him less red. It did not. He also squeaked instead of responded, so.

“So. You tell Hifumin, get his measurements, get them back to me, and I’ll have suits ready for tailoring Thursday.”

Gentaro was whispering something to Dice. Dice laughed. What were they talking about back there?

“I’ll send you calendar invites with the exact times. The two of you should come in for fittings Thursday morning-- he doesn’t work mornings, right? Most hosts don’t.”

Doppo numbly nodded, watching Dice nod along to... something that Gentaro said. It was distracting. They were probably teasing him. Why were people always teasing him? Especially about Hifumi?

They were best friends! What was wrong with that?!

Maybe he should make sure they knew that. Make them stop whispering. But if that wasn’t what they were saying, then it would be incriminating-- incriminating? For what? It would give them ideas anyway? And how was it their business?

Doppo felt like he was going to burst a blood vessel.

“Sound good?” What? Whoops, not listening. Doppo nodded anyway.

“Great! Oh, we’re gonna go to a cat cafe and get snuggles because life is hard. You wanna come with? We can close for the day!”

The lackadaisical attitude of a boss that worked for himself. Doppo couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around it. It set him off-kilter enough to skew his anger over into confusion, his new normal emotion, at least at Empty Candy.

Well. There didn’t seem to be a lot to do. Maybe he should just... stay here, alone, to cool off. Find something to focus on. Like organizing the internal invoice files again.

...But kitties. And life was hard. Ramuda probably knew good cat cafes too. The ones with adoption and good animal care. Something about Ramuda’s all over attitude said he wouldn’t tolerate work-life balance abuse, even in cats.

He really could use a soft, purring ball of fur about then.

“...Yeah, okay. Let me get my stuff.”

Chapter Text

The cat cafe was more of a test of Doppo's restraint than he ever would have thought. No, not because the present company (Fling Posse) was too much for him, nor was it due to the state of the cat cafe (as it was very cute and pleasant, and the proprietor was a very kind, welcoming woman). No, no. It was because of the defining aspect of a cat cafe-- or rather, this specific cat cafe. 

The cats. All adorable. All adoptable. Playful kittens and sleepy older cats. White. Tuxedo. Calico. Tortoise. Tabby. Seal point! Okay, perhaps Doppo had spent way too much of his life watching cat videos that he knew the different coat patterns, but that didn’t matter. 

Cats.

Rescue cats at that, some that, as the owner pointed out, had a harder time being adopted because of age or disability. 

He wanted ten of them. Possibly more. One little lady with one eye had done a big stretch on his thigh as he sat on the floor, then circled into his lap for a snuggle. Not Ramuda, not Gentaro, Dice, or any other patron. Him. 

He nearly cried. He might have cried, actually, but no one called him on it, so he was disinterested in bringing it up.

He nearly went to sign the adoption papers right there and then, truth be told. She purred and looked up at him so sweetly with her soft green eye and softer black and white fur. She rolled on her back and wiggled and...

Honestly, thank god for his anxiety sliding in to talk sense into him. They didn’t have any supplies for raising a cat. He didn’t know his apartment’s policy on pets. He hadn’t even run the idea by Hifumi! 

Hifumi liked cats though. So was that a problem? Yes, of course it was! Getting a pet was a big decision! Would he even be a good cat parent? Surely this precious little creature wouldn’t want to live with gloomy, boring him. Then again, pets were supposed to be good for mental health! 

The fact was, he couldn’t make that decision right then, and he wasn’t set up for it, but. 

But she was letting him pet her fluffy little chest fur, curling her head around to press it into his stomach! And now another kitty, a tortie, was curling up next to his leg--

He couldn’t think straight. 

In some last ditch attempt to collect himself, he looked up and away from the cats on top of him to see how everyone else was faring. 

Ramuda had managed to get a small kitten invested in chasing a feather toy with all the energy and enthusiasm of a toddler on a triple shot espresso. Gentaro sat politely on the couch, a determined cat rubbing up against the fabric of his hakama, but not allowing him to initiate a pet. 

Dice... Dice somehow had a cat climbing his back, one settled on his shoulder, and several meowing around him demandingly. A kitten poked its head out of one of his deep pockets. Dice didn’t seem to know what to do with any of this, simply sitting on the floor and allowing whatever was happening to happen. Resignation was written across his face. Doppo could see where the climbing cat’s claws were snagging on Dice’s jacket. He wondered if they had gotten through to his skin... If they were, he didn’t look mad about it, instead giving one of his cat mob a pet on the head. 

The stray cat was a cat magnet. That made sense somehow. Doppo was sort of jealous. 

Or not, the shoulder cat hopped down directly into Dice’s lap and then out. The strangled, winded sound Dice made spoke volumes on what exactly had happened. To his credit, though, he didn’t disturb any of the other cats. 

He caught Doppo’s gaze, smiled in pain, and gave him a thumbs up. Doppo gave him one in return. 

If either of them had been okay with bothering the cats, they may have laughed. But both held it in, Dice’s lips wobbling and Doppo wheezing slightly into a cough. Gentaro gave both of them a mild look of concern and folded his hands in his lap, having given up on catching the little black cat playing keep away.

Doppo did not end up adopting the tuxedo cat who had monopolized his lap. (According to Ramuda, her name was Vivian, she was totally open for adoption, and ‘clearly loooves you’. This did not help him resist, but he held strong.) He did, however, buy a pin. And made a donation to pre-order a cat calendar for the next year. [For pick up in December, if he ordered now he would get an exclusive photo book!] And also got information for adopting cats-- 

They went to a little shop down the street after, apparently known for its... ‘cottage core vibes’, Ramuda’s words not his, and shaved ice. Considering the lingering heat, it would only be appropriate to get some, Ramuda reasoned, even though he was of the opinion that people who avoided frozen treats in the winter were weak.

It was honestly a good way to wrap up their impromptu... team building outing? Ramuda would have to figure out a good excuse for this being a work expense, if the charges showed up on next week’s financial report. 

Despite being a ‘kissaten’ style cafe, the shop was full of natural light and cute Parisian cafe tables. Not an inch of dark wood in sight, no cozy dark corners to tuck yourself into. It smelled of sweets and well-brewed coffee. 

The shaved ice dishes were towering in their height, and there were several specialty flavor options. Dice ordered some sort of thick toast topped with a spread, expressing distaste for having cold on his teeth. Gentaro got an espresso, ‘as black as his wicked soul’-- a line he had heard from Badass Temple’s second, and apparently found appropriately dramatic. Ramuda settled on a fruity mango monstrosity of shaved ice-- and Doppo gave in to pressure to order the icy confection as well (Docchi, it’s the specialtyyyy), but with houjicha and chestnut flavors. It was a lot both in sweetness and volume, but he found he didn’t regret it, especially when faced with the sweltering weather just beyond the cafe doors. 

The cloying taste stayed with him for a long while, following him on the train home and into his apartment. Considering the quiet, it would have to be his companion until dinner time too, as Hifumi had clearly already departed for work. It was almost sweet enough to be Hifumi’s stand-in, filling the room with the memories of summer days gone by. A touch more adult than a GariGari-Kun ice pop’s soda flavor, but nostalgic none the less.

Doppo next saw Hifumi in the morning. His blonde hair was mussed and his sleep shirt wrinkled. Barefooted on the linoleum but smiling, characteristically cheerful, albeit sleepy. He leaned over the kitchen counter to attend to the thin layer of eggs cooking in their tamagoyaki pan, poised with chopsticks to flip and fold at just the right moment.

Hifumi didn't appear to notice that Doppo had crept from his room, not turning or reacting to Doppo's presence but instead yawning wide and long until tears pricked his eyes. To be up this early meant that he had slept very little. There was no complaint, no furrow in his brows or frown on his lips, but the sluggishness of his motions spoke to how many more hours he needed to rest before he was fully present.

It was Hifumi's choice, Doppo knew, to wake up with him. Doppo had never asked him to, never asked him to cook or share sleepy coffee over their little dining table. The sight still made his stomach twist with guilt, wondering how pitiful he must be that Hifumi thought he needed company, that he couldn't feed himself. What a burden, to lack sleep for someone inconsequential like him.

(Hifumi would be right. He needed company. He needed the warmth of a home cooked meal. The kindnesses he didn't deserve were the only thing keeping him from forsaking this world.)

Doppo constantly wondered why Hifumi bothered.

With another yawn, Hifumi turned to grab for the extra egg mixture, then flinched with enough force that it looked like a hop, abandoned half way through the motion. Fair enough, Doppo was just standing there and staring like a particularly depressed wraith.

"Good morning! Yikes— You scared the heck out of me." Hifumi shook his head, dismissing the shock with a disbelieving smile. "Giving ninja a run for their money there. Maybe I should start calling you… uh…" There was a certain amount of nerves to how Hifumi was running his mouth.

Doppo really had startled him, huh. Hifumi had been a little jumpy for the past year or so— made sense. Stalker break in and all. And then there was that sudden corpse in their living room? And Honobono showing up whenever she fucking felt like it , apparently now backed by the fascist shadow government.

Yeah really, really couldn't blame him.

"Doppomaru. Ah, nah, that's lame… Sarutobi Doppo! Nope, that's bad too."

That 'I'm thinking too hard about this' face was adorable, though. Pursed lips and staring downward like the floor would give him answers.

"Doruto—?"

"Let's stop before you hurt yourself." Doppo huffed fondly, leaning against the counter at Hifumi's side.

"Yeah, I think I just called you a chip."

"No, that's Doritos. Do-ri-to."

"-Zu."

"Can't forget the 'zu'. The, uh. S makes things plural in English, right?"

Doppo remembered some of his high school English. He'd even tried to improve with night classes, once upon a time. He'd sort of given up after signing on with E.L. Medical.

Hifumi shrugged. "I think so?"

"You think so? Aren't you good at English? You're always throwing it around to look cool." At least, that had been what Doppo had assumed.

"Eeeeeh." Hifumi wiggled his hand ambivalently, focused back on his tamagoyaki pan. At some point, he'd finished the first egg roll and was starting on a second. "We get English-speaking customers sometimes, so my speaking's okay-ish."

So. What. He could do pick up lines?

"But I don't remember anything about grammar. I was a pretty shit student, remember?"

Instinctively, Doppo wanted to defend Hifumi's honor… from Hifumi's own self-criticism. To challenge and speak up to let him know that it was okay, understandable even. But he kept quiet, biting into the meat of his cheek.

Hifumi wasn't wrong, his grades had been abysmal. Too weak from stress and lack of sleep for PE, too distracted to parse through math. If his extreme anxiety hadn't been kept him from going university with Doppo, his marks definitely would have.

But that hadn't been his fault. Who could focus on schoolwork when your sadistic bitch of a girlfriend was systematically destroying your life? Sort of hard to care about English conjugation with Honobono wrecking your sister's marriage, and your relationship with your mother, and accusing you of every terrible thing under the sun. That didn't even begin to cover the physical terror she instilled in him— Hifumi had confided in him once. And only once, about what happened. Doppo remembered every word he'd said, every nervous glance away, the white tightness of Hifumi's knuckles as he gripped his elbows, hugging himself. Shielding himself.

Doppo never needed reminding to hold what she did, heavy and burning, in his heart. He wondered if that rage would just linger forever, or if he would ever get the chance to release it back on her. Either way, he would hold it, and hold it. Because Hifumi was too kind to do so, wondered too often what he'd done to deserve the treatment, or what Honobono had been going through to inflict that pain. (The answer was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing—)

Doppo took a deep breath. In. Out. He was going to a dark place. He didn't need to be. It wasn't the right time to be.

Realizing that he'd taken too long to respond, Doppo looked to Hifumi, who was watching him. Waiting. There was an odd look on his face. When they locked eyes, Hifumi looked away. What kind of expression had Doppo been making?

Whatever it was, he hated that he'd made it.

Deep breath in, and out. "It sort of seems like I'll have free time, now." What a concept! "We could study together. If you're interested! Then you could really impress your clients… and stuff like…that." Doppo trailed off into a mumble, shame creeping in without any concrete cause.

He was stupid. This was stupid.

Wait. No. His brain was stupid. Er— his brain was being stupid because of anxiety and depression and things that Doctor Jinguji definitely reminded him of often. Yeah. That.

…That didn't make it better.

Hifumi smiled and gave a weak laugh, reaching over and poking Doppo's nose. "That could be fun, yeah! Might be useful for traveling, too."

Like. International travel? He had some free time now, sure but that was sort of a stretch. Doppo wasn't going to tell him that, though.

"Yeah. It'd be useful." Lame, lame, lame.

It was too early for Doppo to be failing quite this hard but here he was.

"Now that you mention it…" Hifumi dished up the tamagoyaki with a small salad that Doppo hadn't noticed on the counter. There were bright red cherry tomatoes cut up into it.

"We could totally do a lot of fun things now. My schedule's pretty flexible, and you don't have to work super late anymore… all the time, anyway. You even get weekends off! We could do a lot with weekends."

If Fragrance could handle being without their number one host for that long, maybe. Doppo felt doubtful.

"We could go fishing with Jakurai, day trip to Hakone… Um…" Hifumi set the dishes on the table. He moved to go and start coffee, but Doppo shook his head.

"I can do that. Unless you want tea?"

"Hm… nah, Coffee's good. Thanks, Doppochin." Hifumi plopped himself onto one of the dining room chairs. "Now what was I… right. Activities. Outings. Excursions!"

"I got what you meant the first time. What's up with all the synonyms?" Doppo muttered, starting up the coffee pot and taking down a couple of mugs. One faded kitty cat and a matte black one. No longer matching.

Hifumi didn't deign to answer his question. "Well… what would you want to do?"

A loaded question out of context. Doppo wouldn't be able to start expressing 'what he wanted to do', overall. But if they were talking about weekend plans, maybe he could come up with a few ideas.

"Biking might be fun." Even though it had been a passing train fancy, some exercise and fresh air couldn't hurt. In fact, it would probably help… something. His back pain? His anxiety? Exercise was supposed to help with plenty of things.

"Not sure if I remember how." Hifumi tilted his head to the side in thought. "But there's a saying about that, pretty sure, so I can totally relearn!" He was quick to clarify his meaning, but Doppo's expression had began to deflate immediately.

No biking then. It didn't matter how quick on the draw Hifumi was with his positivity, Doppo had readily discarded his idea as trash. All of his ideas were probably trash. Hifumi still looked expectant anyway.

Oh god, that was even on the assumption that he had more ideas. Doppo's mind was blank. Completely blank. He glanced around the room, eyes settling on their empty mugs.

"P…Pottery? I mean like making pottery. There's classes?" Why did he sound so unsure? If there was any sort of higher power, he hoped it would strike him down here and now, because this morning was a disaster.

"Ooh! Yeah! I've always wanted to do a craft class!" Hifumi nodded brightly. "Those are usually kind of popular with girls though, so going alone…" He glanced over his shoulder at Doppo, shy smile on his face. "We'd have to go together. Ooh! We could do a cooking class too? Or flower arrangement?"

Doppo couldn't help his own smile, baffled as it was. Hifumi would feel safe around women if Doppo was there?

And if he was also wearing his work blazer of protection presumably, but the sentiment was still there. Hifumi would feel safe.

Doppo didn't know if he deserved that trust, but it felt so good to know he had it.

"I'll see what's around. Tuesdays are good for you, right?"

Hifumi nodded. "And if there's anything exciting and you tell me ahead of time, I can just request that day off."

Exciting, huh. What would Hifumi consider exciting?

Oh wait. Speaking of which.

"Ah— remind me. You've got Friday off this week, right?" Doppo was sure he'd seen it on the kitchen calendar. He'd even been confident enough to tell Ramuda that was the right day off. But as was usual, there was a moment of doubt. As the coffee percolated, he sat down across from Hifumi in his customary chair.

"Yep. Covering for Hanazawa all of Sunday." Hifumi pulled a face, nose wrinkling up in displeasure. Hifumi had talked about this particular coworker before, but not with… disdain? Annoyance? Could go either, or both ways. "He was supposed to be doing brunch and evening service to make up for his vacation last week."

Doppo considered the implications for a second. Too early to call ahead sick. "Maybe it's a family emergency?"

"…I shouldn't say 'I wish', but it would've been a better reason. Here I am as his senior, and he's got the guts to ask for me to cover for him for— for— guess why."

Hifumi was really starting to scowl. Doppo reached a hand out toward him, and before he could think about the action, smoothed his thumb over the crease between Hifumi's eyes.

The expression didn't suit him at all, like creases in a freshly laundered shirt.

Hifumi went a bit cross eyed to see what he was doing, then laughed, swatting at his hand. Doppo recoiled, cheeks feeling a bit hot in shame at his odd action. He squeaked out an apology, or at least a noise that sounded like one. What had possessed him to do that?

"Okay, okay, but seriously. Guess." More wrinkles, but these were at the corner of Hifumi's eyes as he smiled. Much better. There was no need to straighten those out.

So it wasn't Doppo's first guess of a family emergency, and he'd already ruled out sickness. Hifumi had said that Hanazawa had been out on vacation the last week too, so he couldn't have been going on another one so soon, right?

What other reasons were there to take off of work?

"It's… his birthday?" Doppo knew a few coworkers who had enough resolve to take their birthdays off to do something fun, but they had been in the minority. Doppo certainly had never gotten the courage to ask. How could he? His birthday was right after Golden Week. He couldn't just take a whole week off and then immediately take another day a week after.

He and Hifumi could just celebrate it during Golden Week anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. Doubly so because Doppo didn't like making his birthday a big deal. What was there to celebrate? His continued survival? Yes, one more pathetic existence in this god awful world.

And back to the conversation. Hifumi was shaking his head with a huff.

"Not even something like that. He got invited to a fancy party by a client he's into."

Oooh… that was a definite no-no in the host world. Hard to keep up the illusion of being available if you were showing favoritism. Sure, hosts could have girlfriends outside of work, so long as they were discreet about their personal life, particularly at the club, but… a client?

"Is it an escort thing?" Some hosts did that. Hifumi, of course, didn't, but it wasn't uncommon; a host being hired outside of work hours to be a date. It was extremely good pay and a great side hustle, at least according to Hifumi.

"Nope. And even if it was, it's not an excuse to push all your work on someone else. He's got some devoted Sunday regulars, too. They're gonna be uber disappointed."

Having to keep all those women happy… the life of a host wasn't one Doppo could lead. That weirdly fine line between professional boundaries and some kind of parasocial relationship between the character of the host and the client, it seemed both way too thin to tiptoe upon and impossible to get back on after falling off.

And people thought hosting was an easy job. Hifumi's position as Fragrance's number one really spoke to how masterful his social skills were.

Ah. Maybe Ramuda had a point about Hifumi as a social buffer.

"Why does he need the whole day off, then?"

Hifumi audibly scoffed. "Cause he needs to get a new outfit and do his hair and do his makeup and do his skincare and whatever."

Didn't Hanazawa do that for work anyway? Why would it take the whole day? Hifumi's primping routine was extensive, and it only took him an hour, tops. (Ignoring his bedtime lotions and how long it took him to bathe. Also his manicure appointments. And his hair appointments. And that one appointment that Doppo had no clue the purpose of. What was an esthetician anyway? Wait, how much time did Hifumi spend on his appearance out of work? How much money? How much effort? Between all of that and the ever-looming concern of liver disease, was the money and exposure therapy really worth it.)

"Anyway, why didja ask? Want to do something on Friday?" Hifumi leaned on the table, looking at Doppo expectantly from under his eyelashes. They were always so long and pale, just dark enough to be visible. Unfairly pretty, as always.

"Ramuda invited us— well, really invited you— to some fashion industry event." Doppo was working it, after all. He'd been more conscripted than he'd been invited.

"Me?" Hifumi tilted his head to the side, puppy-like. "Huh!" Outside of mild surprise, Doppo couldn't read any deeper into Hifumi's reaction. Well, he supposed Hifumi's sort of weird…rivalry? Beef. Was with Yumeno and not all of Fling Posse. Doppo still wasn't sure how that had sparked so quickly over clothing of all things.

Doppo shrugged. "He put it as a plus one, but he sort of had ulterior motives, seeing as he told me to ask you specifically." Hifumi's eyebrow raise caused him to backtrack with a flustered blush. "I would have invited you anyway! It's more, uh… I think he wants to dress you up. And said that you could… cover for my… y'know…"

"Your…?"

"Social anxiety? I guess." Doppo put his head in his hands, rubbing at his forehead. "My lack of… social skills?"

Hifumi hummed thoughtfully. "You're really not that bad. But if it would make you feel better, I can come."

It would. It would make him feel better. But he didn't want that pressure on him either. Doppo opened his mouth to say so, to assure him that he'd be alright! It would be fine if he didn't want to go.

Hifumi held up his hand to stop him. "We just talked about this, Doppochin. We're here to support each other. I might end up sort of 'host-mode'ing it, but I think I can survive a party where I'm not the focus."

Ugh. Doppo hated when he was like that. It was disingenuous. Saccharine. It was like Hifumi wasn't there at all.

This must have shown on his face, because Hifumi continued.

"I just said I might. If Ramuda wants to dress me up, it's not really the host uniform, so… that's different. And again. It's an event where women… are. Not where women are glomming onto me for attention."

Yet he put himself through that for work. Fuck, did Doppo hate that Hifumi felt like he had to face it that way. That he had to be brave to the point of not being present. There had to be a better way.

Making friends at a craft class, for example. Or maybe starting with the old neighborhood association ladies. Hifumi didn't seem to react so harshly with them. They could trade recipes and do crochet or something. It would suit him better than trying to brute force his fear deep down under champagne and low lights.

"If anything happens, my gallant Doppoknight will come rescue me, right? This could be fun!"

Doppo nodded into his hands, sighing heavily. As if he hadn't done so for over a decade now. Not that Doppo had had much power against someone like Honobono.

"Okay, so Friday! What time? What do we need to do?"

"I'll have to check the time." Doppo'd forgotten already. Whoops. "But Ramuda just wants your measurements—"

"Oh~!"

Doppo leveled him with a flat look, getting a sheepish little laugh in return.

"And for you to stop by Thursday morning for tailoring. He's… uh. Got mine at this point."

Hifumi's smile widened, just a little.

"Because he makes me wear his shit! Not— ugh. You're impossible."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Innocuous as the statement was, Doppo still spluttered, stumbling over words and a blush. He stood, returning to the coffee pot to pour the now ready drink into their mugs. "Yeah, unfortunately." He mumbled, holding Hifumi's mug out to him while already hiding his face behind a nice, long, WAY TOO HOT sip.

Hifumi laughed, taking the mug and blowing on it like a sensible person. Doppo made direct eye contact and took another drink.

Ow. OW. Now it was burning his throat too, not just his tongue. Why did he do this to himself. We involuntarily winced.

Hifumi laughed harder, bracing the bottom of his mug on the table.

Asshole.

He shoved the delicious breakfast said asshole made into his mouth. The vegetables were nice and chilled. Less delightful was that they'd let the tamagoyaki get a bit cold too. It was still amazing.

"This is great." Doppo mumbled, although his sour glare didn't lessen. Hifumi simply smiled brighter.

Beautiful asshole.

The sleepy calm of Monday all but collapsed about midday Tuesday. Empty Candy didn't get a ton of phone calls on a daily basis, outside of the occasional spam or inquiry, most of its business base seemed either to call Ramuda directly, preferred email, or just messaged through Instagram. Today, however, the damn receiver wouldn't stop ringing.

Apparently, no one was getting through to Ramuda.

Weird, Doppo thought. He could see the pink hair bobbing around the shop busily, mainly running up and down the stairs from one set of sewing supplies to… assumedly the other?

But no, according to some very flustered event organizers, models, and hair/make up artists, Doppo's mercurial boss had gone completely radio silent.

Thankfully, their questions were nothing he couldn't handle, but he was almost tempted to go chew Ramuda out. What if there'd been an emergency!?

Ah. Wait. Doppo suddenly remembered.

It was his job to handle this, wasn't it?

He'd been spoiled by an orientation period of quiet and spreadsheets and not having to face other human beings.

But Ramuda had said it. Doppo was his assistant… aide? It was his job to apologize for him, to handle admin while Ramuda focused on his job as lead designer.

A job Ramuda was probably doing at the moment. Last minute touches, planning ahead, finalizing certain designs and choices for the fashion show the next day. Doppo was sure he'd seen that feverish focus on his face earlier, the same type he'd seen during the frankly terrifying, sleepless craftmaggedon.

Better to not disturb that. Doppo was a professional. He was used to dealing with frustrated customers. The mask of the office-working salesman was unbreakable.

So just as Ramuda was putting his nose to the grindstone— so to speak— Doppo did as well. Firing off emails, taking messages, answering questions. A paid invoice to be filed here, dismissing a prying journalist there.

He didn't even fumble when one of the make-up artists cancelled, too sick to make the fashion show the next day. He simply took her suggestion for a replacement, contacted them, got them the contract, and filled the space.

Not so shabby, if he said so himself.

After ordering in lunch and forcing Ramuda to sit down and eat it, he had this confirmed by Ramuda himself, who gave him a bright but maybe a touch dazed thumbs up.

Ha, take that depression. He did a good and helpful thing at work and didn't fuck up.

Dealing with the same amount of panicked hassle the next day was equally as easy. Without that stupid baldy boss piling things on and existing in the same space as him, Doppo could really get things done! He'd gotten a full eight hours of sleep and everything. Plenty of energy and focus to spare. What overtime? He didn't need it when he was in such a flow.

Ramuda… gave him a weird look at one point, but didn't say anything about his performance, so he assumed that he was still doing well?

Admin, filing, returning messages, making Ramuda eat. Rinse, repeat.

Before he knew it, he was stood in front of the tri-fold mirror at the back of the shop, Ramuda having pulled him forcefully away from his desk to fit him in a suit for— oh, right. It WAS Wednesday. Fashion show time.

Hold on, he had no clue what that was like. Or what he was supposed to do. No, his confidence! So short-lived.

The suit was pretty understated, actually. Doppo felt a note of relief about that. He'd expected something more ostentatious. Like what Hifumi would wear.

"The models are the focus today, Docchi." Oh, had Doppo said that aloud?

"Yep." That too, apparently.

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance to shine on Friday! I put a whole lot of thought into what you're gonna wear. Gotta match Hifumin, and I'm not gonna dress him in anything boring." Great, terrifying. Ramuda was right though, it wouldn't do to put Hifumi in anything less than clothes as stunning as him.

For today, though, Doppo got to wear a dark navy suit with a tan vest and tie. White shirt. Brown shoes. Did Ramuda just have this laying around, or did he buy this specially for Doppo? He didn't have to do that, Doppo's wardrobe wasn't… as bad as before.

With how self-satisfied Ramuda looked, though, maybe it was more of a control thing. Per usual, Doppo found himself regretting even questioning. What an absolute mystery, Amemura Ramuda.

"I'm gonna get dressed, print some things off for the both of us— don't worry, you don't need to know anything today." Ramuda smoothed out Doppo's lapels and gave them a slight tug. "Just do whatever I tell you to. That's your job. And don't be embarrassing! You can be honest if someone talks to you. Don't make things up. Who are you there representing?"

Doppo blinked slowly. Pop quiz? "Empty Candy."

"Great! And what do you think about Hermes' chain motif that they chose for this year's spring/summer collection?"

A totally blank look. What the hell was he asking about? "Uh. I don't… know?"

"Great! Perfect. Maybe elaborate a little more. 'I'm new to the fashion industry and—'"

Oh. Got it.

"I don't know enough to form an opinion… but I'd like to hear about what you think?"

Ramuda clapped. "Nice! So you aren't hopeless!"

Rude. Doppo sighed. "I can handle the professional stuff… it's anything past small talk that gets me."

Ramuda hummed and nodded along. "If anybody gets that deep... Pretend you got a text message from me and excuse yourself. We can't risk you babbling about something and being embarrassing."

Fair.

"So take a deep breath. No more calls or emails today. Drink some tea or water or whatever. We've got this."

Doppo was sure Ramuda had it. This was his world, the fashion, the art, the models. Doppo's was behind that desk, as he'd been doing that morning. Stepping into this unknown, he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't mess things up. Make Ramuda look bad. Ruin a business relationship. Spill a drink on a model. Say something that the media could quote out of context.

But this was his job too, now. And if nothing else, Doppo was good at being a worker.

He would just have to learn this part too.

Chapter Text

Fashion show set up was an entire production of chaos. Models, hair stylists, make up artists, all of them everywhere, all at once wanting Ramuda's attention. Where was the shape-wear for this outfit? Was this the right part for this hairstyle? This shade of purple or this other one (that seemed identical to him) for the eyeliner? Ramuda himself wasn't much better, telling one person to take off a jacket, another to put it on, digging through a bag of clothes to find, hopefully, a smaller size of heels so that one of the models wouldn't twist their ankle and eat shit on the runway.

Doppo was left mostly just trying to stay well out of the way. Ramuda did send him with a packet of documents for a show-runner, and asked him another time to get him more coffee, but for the most part, yeah, Doppo was just trying not to be a obstacle for the professionals running around. It was enough to make him feel vicariously flustered, overstimulated by the sounds and movements, and why was it so hot back here in the staging area?

Despite the frantic rush, Ramuda didn't even bead of sweat, dipping and weaving with his smaller stature to get wherever he wanted without so much of a ruffle to his suit. Doppo was unsure if he'd ever seen the designer wear anything that was modest, simple, like this. Just a suit, navy like his own, and a white button-up. His hair was pushed back with a band out of his face, but it was so thin that it was difficult to see. The only pop of color was a little yellow and silver pin on his lapel, glinting in the intense stage lights, a small wrapped piece of candy that Doppo remembered as one of Empty Candy's design motifs, as well as one Ramuda used for his role in Fling Posse; Easy R.

This different side, this professional one that kept peeking its head out over the past few weeks, it sort of clashed with Doppo's main impression of Ramuda. It probably clashed with everyone's main impression of Ramuda, actually. There was no whining or loose-limbed draping, no childish moods or whims. His voice remained sweet and high, his language still had a cute affect, but he spoke differently. Directly, quickly, politely. He only reverted to his silliness when he spoke to a few of the models, hugging them around their shoulders and chirping something about how 'uber adorable' they looked. Notably, these models were the tensest, the people sitting the most dead still or squirming with the most restlessness. Doppo could see even from where he was standing that their faces were stuck into terse grimaces, their breathing was quick.

They relaxed a bit after Ramuda's attention. Shoulders dropping, expressions becoming more lax or brightening into something more confident. Even his antics served a purpose here, were just part of the great flurry of pre-show preparations.

Somewhat distantly— all of Doppo's thoughts felt distant in this clamor— he wondered if this was ever a side Jakurai had gotten to see. Unless they'd just run into Fling Posse or something similar, Jakurai didn't really talk much about Ramuda. Not as an ex-team member, not as an annoyance, not as someone who was a friend, but no longer. When he did, it was mostly in complaint or warning. Why couldn't Amemura be mature? Why did he have to be antagonistic every single time they saw each other? Amemura was so vapid, so superficial, who knew what he was thinking. They couldn't take Fling Posse at their word, look at who their leader is.

It was some of the angriest… no, most frustrated he'd ever seen Jakurai while he spoke. Hot emotion that usually sat behind a pleasant, calm facade. Whatever had happened between him and Ramuda, it had to be significant, maybe even painful. A relationship that Doppo knew nothing about, but had to be something.

Even in just the handful of weeks Doppo had worked with Ramuda, there was more to the man than Jakurai complained about. Did he know about those aspects? Did it ever come up? Or did Ramuda not prove himself above his flaws.

It hardly mattered. Doppo wasn't even sure why he was thinking about his doctor and his boss's strange interactions. It just— with Ramuda spending so much effort to care for his models, with how meticulous he was, how much his brand and fashion and the happiness of people mattered to him, he couldn't help but think of the question Jakurai had asked him when they'd gone fishing.

'Work isn’t too much for you? They’re treating you kindly?'

He'd answered that things had been fine, then. Maybe he should have said they were actually…good? Just to tell the truth.

"Docchi! Can you get Megumi some juice? She's feeling a little lightheaded."

Doppo snapped to attention, looking over to Ramuda, who was fussing over a young woman in the corner, a small-portable fan in hand.

"Yes, got it!" Low blood sugar always struck at the worst times. If Doppo could do this one little thing to support the whole show, maybe he wasn't as in the way as he thought.

Things were ready. The models were fitted with their initial ensembles, their second and third ones neatly hung and in order for quick change. Everyone's hair was perfect, every line and blot of make up neat. Every model had water, every face got an extra mist of setting spray, just in case. Doppo could hear the bustle of sound grow outside the staging area too, people filing into the space, mingling and chatting and looking for seats or a good place in standing room.

It wouldn't be long now. The show would start, and if Ramuda was to be believed, and he was when it came to these sorts of things, it would end in less than a half an hour. So much work for a brilliant flash of inspiration shown on the runway. That's how it seemed to Doppo, anyway, from all of the glamour he'd seen in movies and on the posters plastered across Shibuya.

He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes.

What else was there to do besides wait? Looking around, there was nothing that stood out.

Except. Where was Ramuda?

There was a lot of color in the room, the spring collection dialed up slightly for the drama of the stage. Green, blue, yellow, white, purple, pink. Chaotic, hard to figure out what he was looking at all of the time.

But he'd been able to pick Ramuda out easily all evening. The vibrancy of his hair was pinker than anything the models were going to wear, and he moved quickly and eye-catchingly, like a squirrel, maybe.

Ramuda wasn't there. That wasn't a reason to panic. Doppo took a deep breath. He could have been talking to someone outside of the room, or getting some air, or, as had happened a couple times, was being hidden by a long skirt, huddled under it to pin a hem that had come loose. It was fine. Doppo wasn't alone with all of, well, all of this.

Breathe. In. Out.

"Is Ramuda-chan okay?" Doppo looked over to find Tomoe, having stepped out of line to approach him. They were absolutely elegant in those gray jeans and lace white top that Doppo had chosen for them. Ramuda had clearly added some things; a loose knitted purple shawl, chunky heels that made Tomoe even taller than typical (giving Jakurai a run for his money on that!), a purse in the shape of a gray moth, dangly earrings, the shine of a hair stick in their raven hair, pulled high in a ponytail.

Doppo couldn't help some sort of weird surge of pride over his minor contribution. Somehow his instincts about clothing of all things had been right. Ramuda had trusted his intuition enough to use it for his show.

Ah, question. They were asking a question. "Huh?"

Tomoe nodded gingerly over their shoulder, careful not to disturb the pieces of their hair held in place by hairspray and dreams. "I saw him rush out a couple minutes ago. It's not like him to leave so close to curtain."

Huh. That was weird. Maybe it was an urgent phone call? Ramuda had slipped out of the office to take a few of those. Or some other emergency? Doppo checked his phone. He hadn't gotten anything yet…

"He hasn't said anything to me." Doppo confessed. "But I'll go try and to find him if—"

Doppo's phone lit up in his hands with a little sparkling chime. Ramuda had changed it to that at one point, annoyed with his default tone. Apparently Ramuda's own ringtones were custom and different for every contact. Dice had called once, and he wasn't sure how Ramuda had gotten it, but an instrumental of Dice's own '3$EVEN' had played. Dice wasn't about to put that much effort in, but he let Ramuda fuss with his default ring settings anyway, and so far it hadn't brought him any strife.

Doppo flicked open his cell, Tomoe gave him one hell of a look for that, though he wasn't sure if it was impressed or critical (it was old fashioned, he knew that just fine okay), and pulled up his text messages.

Ramuda. Doppo's stomach sunk and churned.

[Ramuda <3] I'm gonna need you to do something for me

[Ramuda <3] Like a big something. But don't freak out. You can do it.

Doppo was panicking. If it wasn't the whole-ass sentences with correct punctuation, spelling, and capitalization didn't do it, the fact that Ramuda said to not freak out did.

[Sure]

Of course he wasn't going to say no. Job. Desperation. People pleasing.

[What happened? You ok?]

[Ramuda <3] Typing…

[Ramuda <3] Typing…

There was nothing for a minute, just Doppo chewing his lip and hoping that it wasn't iron he tasted on his tongue.

[Ramuda <3] I'm fine! I think I musta caught a stomach bug (－‸ლ)

[Ramuda <3] Pukin in the bathroom! Lmaooo

That was sudden. Ramuda hadn't seemed unwell at all. He'd been downright bouncy, actually. Did he eat something bad? Or was it that he wasn't eating properly at all?

[What can I do to help? Do you need a doctor? Medicine?]

What would get him back in shape and out here in the next twelve minutes?! Doppo would do anything, at this point. There was no way they could delay something like this.

[Ramuda <3] Nah but I can't exactly go out there

[Ramuda <3] The stage manager's got the run of the show. She can cue the models and whatever

[Ramuda <3] But

Tomoe, person of enigmatic expressions, looked extremely concerned behind Doppo's raised cell. How obvious was he being? A bead of sweat ran down his neck.

[Ramuda <3] It's in the program that I'd give a little intro speech. Nothing big! Just thanking people and giving a preview of the themes and inspirations for the collection and stuff.

[Ramuda <3] I'm gonna need you to give it

Wait wait wait wait wait hold on one second.

Ramuda had said just hours before that he didn't need to know anything! He didn't know anything! And public speaking… he didn't do a lot of that. Public rapping, yes, but he was never a presenter of any kind. The last time he'd given a speech had been in a college class, and his grade had been a little embarrassing. The teacher had said he 'stumbled over his words', and 'spoke too fast', and 'fidgeted noticeably', and 'forgot the last quarter of the essay'. Things like that.

No way. He couldn't.

As if reading his mind, Ramuda continued.

[Ramuda <3] I have the whole speech written out in my folder on the bag table. It's white leather

[Ramuda <3] Just say you're giving it on my behalf because of an emergency, read it word for word, and get backstage again

[Ramuda <3] You can do that, right?

Fuck. White leather folder. Bag table. Doppo scrambled over. There it was, next to Ramuda's Fling Posse branded bag. That was one way to tell it from the others. He opened the file, flicking through documents.

Model info, stage marks, specifications for lighting and sound, some other documents that he didn't have time to figure out. Ah, there it was. A speech.

It was indeed little. About a page long. Short, sweet, to the point. Surprisingly formal. Doppo swallowed thickly.

He could do this much, right? Read a page in front of people? He tried to remember what he'd learned in that college class, desperately clawing at his memory, and maybe physically at his head in his distress.

He felt too hot. He felt too cold. Now he was nauseous. His heart was beating a staccato against his chest, it skipped a beat in time with the music being played in the venue. Was breathing getting kind of hard, or was that just him?

Doppo gripped the file folder like a lifeline. It shook along with his hands.

His cell tinkled with another text message.

[Ramuda <3] I'm counting on you!

God damn it, when he put it like that.

Doppo shakily typed a reply.

[I have the folder. I can do it.]

Much more confident sounding than he actually felt, but if Ramuda was sick enough he had to miss giving a speech, then he was sick enough to not need to worry about anything going wrong.

[Ramuda <3] Just treat it like reading a report aloud, you don't have to try and be me. Just be you

No, no, no, being himself was not something Doppo could do. Not to Empty Candy, not to Ramuda. 'Himself' was no one that anyone should want to be associated with. Unlikable, incompetent, anxious, awkward, nervous.

But he'd come this far as 'himself'. Maybe with a veneer of professionalism, but himself all the same. There was no one else to him except for Kannonzaka Doppo.

It would have to be enough.

[Ramuda <3] Dice is coming to get me, so don't worry

[Ramuda <3] I'll be just fine by tomorrow but I've been told that I shouldn't work while I'm puking my guts up

A deep breath in… and out. He and Ramuda, they were a team in this. When one person fell, the other stepped up.

[Ramuda <3] You can go home after it's done, don't feel pressured to stay and handle PR or anything. If anyone asks, they can just email me for statements later. Apologize to my fans?

He hadn't responded to any of Ramuda's recent texts. Doppo collected himself as much as he could to type.

[Good. Don't worry about a thing. I have it handled, I promise. Feel better.]

Somehow, none of that felt like a lie. Breathe in… Breathe out. His head was still spinning, and his sweat felt cold on his back, but he was standing, and his hands weren't shaking.

He might have to also puke later, but for now… for now he would be alright.

Doppo returned to his spot near the lined up models, glancing around to look for the stage manager. He'd met her before, a woman in all black as if she were in a kabuki play and not a fashion runway. Tomoe caught his eye and raised a thin eyebrow.

"Um. Ramuda's feeling very sick, so he's going home." Doppo explained, his voice only trembling a little. "So I'm going to do the opening speech in his place. And… I think I need to talk to the stage manager about that."

A grimace. "Oof. You okay, man?" Tomoe raised a hand to pat his shoulder. It was sort of overly familiar to just touch him out of the blue like that, but Doppo found he didn't mind. Tomoe's hands were sort of cold.

"I'll be fine. Do you know where she is? The… um. Stage manager."

Tomoe nodded and gestured past themselves, toward where a calm-faced woman was talking to a man in some sort of utility outfit. They were in front of an open door, a supply closet, it looked like.

Doppo nodded and rushed over to explain everything.

As he stepped out onto the floor, Doppo noticed a couple things in succession. One, that a tech was adjusting the podium mic and scooting a stool out of the way. The stage had been prepared for Ramuda, petite and grandiose as he was. They had to quickly scramble to change things up for a man twice as soft spoken, and over half a foot taller. Another, that the lights were blinding and hot. Panic had started him sweating, but the direct glare was a whole other sensation, like being directly in the sun. Lastly, that beyond the lights, he couldn't see anything. The crowd was dark and obscured, the angle of lighting not showing even the face of a person ten feet away, let alone in the back.

Outside of the techs, Doppo was alone. Just for a moment, while a hush fell over the animated conversations of attendees. It became so quiet, it felt like he could hear a pin drop, that surely everyone could hear his breathing. Someone coughed softly. Doppo couldn't even begin to know where it came from.

There was a long moment where that silence reigned. His heart slammed in his ears. So many close, but so far away… he could feel anticipation in the air.

He approached the podium anyway, moving the mic slightly to better be in front of his face. It made a bit of a loud thud, his finger coming in contact with the small foam cover. Doppo flinched, freezing in place for a second, put Ramuda's folder down on the angled surface, and opened it.

He cleared his throat.

"Welcome. Due to an unexpected emergency, Empty Candy's Lead Designer, Ramuda Amemura, cannot be here to address you all today. However, he has given me a statement to read on his behalf, as he wanted to give you these words."

Doppo leaned back a little so he could breathe. Slow. Deep. His palms were clammy with sweat. He hoped his voice wasn't shaking noticeably.

"I will try to deliver this faithfully, but there is no imitating Amemura." Considering the first sentence was Ramuda's signature 'hey how's everyone doin', he… definitely had to give that as a disclaimer. Distantly, he heard some stifled giggles. He hoped deeply that it was at the joke and not him. Doppo looked down at the speech.

…Yeah, he couldn't even attempt this amount of energy. Time to translate into something he could manage to squeak out.

"Hello everyone. I hope you are all doing well. It is the energy of people like all of you that allows Empty Candy to continue its creative exploration of fashion and self-expression that has become its signature…"

Huh. Ramuda was right, it was like reading a report. A messy one that he had to interpret, but otherwise, it wasn't any different. Doppo's voice steadied in confidence as he continued.

The spring/summer collection was a chance to bring brightness, fun, and activity to people, regardless of their shape, gender, or physical fitness, allowing the warmth of blooming flowers and the endless blue skies to manifest for everyone. The designs channeled the wings of butterflies, the buzzing of bees, of flowers reaching to the sun. Comfortable days on soft green grass with a breeze cutting through the humidity. The first buzz of cicada wings, richly brown and shimmering in the spotted sunbeams of a shady tree.

Doppo wasn't sure how much of this was bullshitting, and how much was actual inspiration, but it all sounded good. Respectably artsy, at least to his ears. Each point did seem to connect to one thing or another that he'd seen on the models, whether it be an iridescent poncho or embroidered dandelions on a hairband… so if it was wholly bullshitting, Ramuda was terrifyingly good at it.

There was a long list of people he wanted to thank. Designers Doppo had never heard the name of. Fling Posse. Some specific person he'd met in Yoyogi park.

Doppo Kannonzaka?

Oh. Oh.

He almost choked over that, emotion surging. Shocked? Moved? All he knew was that it was sudden and tight in his chest.

Not the time to unpack all of that. There was more to say.

"And a big thank you to all of our fans who support us, whether they're here or online."

This was online?! Of course it was.

"Fashion wouldn't be anything without the people who wear it, the people it makes smile, and feel like themselves. So I hope that you all keep supporting us now, and into the future, whatever it holds."

Doppo squinted at a note at the bottom, and sighed, hopefully not loud enough to be heard by the microphone. He wasn't sure if he knew how to convey this in any normal manner. Was there one?

Fine.

"Lead Designer Amemura would also like everyone to remember that 'you are my sunshine, and this collection is for you'." He paused, shook his head and, as instructed by the speech notes, crossed his thumb and pointer finger into a little heart toward the audience.

Doppo bowed and thought he would be sick right there and then. It was over with, but he wasn't off the stage and dear lord, he was on the internet, and he'd just done a stupid little heart in front of—

The venue was quickly filled with polite clapping. Not too loud, as was the way for professional events and, honestly, for most Japanese events in general, but great in volume. There hadn't been an awkward pause or any whispering or anything, just… clapping. Doppo couldn't see what was going on, but it wasn't immediately negative. It was more like what he saw after a Mantenrou show, albeit tamer. Applause.

Somehow he managed to straighten up and walk himself into the back. Mariko was near the front of the line of models, she gave him a shy smile and a thumbs up, mouthing a 'good job' in his direction. Tomoe gave him a solid thump on the back and a smile.

Doppo collapsed into a chair, and gave them both a thumbs up back as they were filed onto the stage. The fashion show had begun.

Doppo did not end up throwing up. Of everything, he thought that might have been his proudest achievement tonight.

Nothing more went wrong, nothing broke, nothing failed. The stage manager had handled everything, getting the models on and off the stage, cuing what needed cuing. Doppo just needed to rest a bit, and hopefully not lapse into another panic attack just out of principle. (What principle? That his brain couldn't let him feel relief for more than two minutes, of course.)

"You look wiped out, Mr. Kannonzaka." Mariko was holding out a bottle of water to him. She'd gotten to take off her jacket, too hot for the crowded building, and change into more comfortable shoes, but she was still in the third outfit of the walk: a sun dress with light pink, watercolor-like patterns. She too, seemed somewhat exhausted.

Doppo offered her a smile and took it. "It was just nerves. You did all the hard work out there." Ooh. Cold water. With a contented sigh, he pressed it to his forehead.

Mariko couldn't help a little laugh, covering her mouth with her hand demurely. "…So, I'm guessing Ramuda-chan isn't coming back for the… um… mingling. Or the after party everybody is talking about."

Doppo shook his head. "He'd eaten something bad, I guess."

"That's too bad." Mariko sat in a chair next to him. "Are… you staying for those?"

Fuck no.

Well, actually. At least for the mingling, he probably should stick around to be some sort of point of contact for Empty Candy. He wasn't going to an after party, though. Not his thing. It wasn't like he was the one who had to do social networking, right? Right??

The conflict must have shown on his face, as Mariko reacted. With relief. She looked more relaxed than he'd seen her all night.

"Because… I don't. But I also don't want to be the only one leaving early." Mariko hung her head with a release of breath.

"Everyone else is staying and going out, and I just. That's too many people."

Doppo nodded his agreement. Totally right. Way way way too many people. Exhausting night.

What was her angle, though? Was there an angle?

"Ramuda did say that it was okay for me to go… Did you… want to go do something? You should celebrate a successful show….and… all that." Seemed polite to ask.

Mariko's eyes flew wide. "Just us? I—Like a date?"

WAIT NO. "It-it could just be us, but it wouldn't be a date!" He wasn't interested in her like that. Absolutely not.

"Oh thank god." Mariko slumped in her chair a little. "I didn't think so, considering—" Considering what? "But at Karaoke, I think Ramuda-chan was trying to push us together and… you're very nice, and you are cute, but I'm not looking to date anyone right now?"

Doppo wasn't sure he believed her, praise wise. He tried to be polite and all, but cute? Even without the cushion of compliments, He wouldn't have felt insulted. Considering his lack of… dateability, he just naturally expected refusal.

"Okay."

"Also, I'm exhausted. My feet are killing me. I want to go home." 

Fair. "I can walk you to the station? Or call you a cab?" Or was that overstepping?

"Going together to the station would be nice. Thank you."

Doppo rubbed the back of his head bashfully. "Gives me an excuse to leave anyway… Can't let you go alone in the dark."

"Oh no. Wouldn't be gentlemanly to let a girl go home by herself this late."

Doppo felt himself smiling. Mariko smiled back.

"Let me go get changed and we can head out. I want to be back in comfy clothes ASAP."

And off she went, grabbing her bag, a warm brown leather backpack, from the table on the way to the changing room. Doppo took the opportunity to drink the entire bottle of water in one go.

The night was comfortable as they stepped out of the Spiral Hall venue. Not too hot, not too cool. The balmy start of autumn, and blessed with clear weather despite the ever-looming threat of typhoon. Shibuya, much like the neighboring Shinjuku, was busy even on a Wednesday night with a hazy moon hanging in a heavy crescent in the sky.

The walk wouldn't be a very long one, a couple minutes at most. Spiral was centrally located in the Omotesando neighborhood and the subway station was a block away. Everything was well-lit too, several stores still open, some just shutting down for the night. Unlike Doppo's previous shopping adventures on the weekend… the flow of activity was less of a river and more of a gentle stream, people going out for a late dinner or a drink, heading home, making a convenience store run… anything that a nice night in Shibuya could offer.

Mariko didn't seem much up for talking, quietly looking around while trying to suss out the best way to start walking. Unwilling to jaywalk, it looked like they would need to backtrack, just a little, to take a pedestrian bridge. The station was on the other side of the thoroughfare, if Doppo remembered correctly. Easy enough.

He was about to tell Mariko this, when his eye caught a familiar figure.

A head taller than the rest of the pedestrians around him, cutting a sleek silhouette in the soft, warm light of Omotesando's twilight was Jinguji Jakurai.

Jakurai didn't appear to be paying active attention, leaning on nearby white-tiled wall and looking at his phone screen.

He was also directly in their path, not twenty feet away from the door they had exited from.

Well. Fuck him. He'd avoided a full-blown panic attack by a hair, and now here was Jakurai, the one person he wanted the least to stumble upon his little… employment secret. He was planning on telling him! Really, he was. At some point. When he found a way to broach the topic.

Maybe if Hifumi slipped up, for example. Or if Doppo felt he'd collected enough evidence of 'this is fine, really' to present to Jakurai and assuage his worries.

Neither of these things had happened yet! But here was Jakurai! Right outside of the venue. During Tokyo Fashion Week.

What was he doing there, actually.

But, it was not the time for 'why'! Jakurai was there, Doppo was walking out of an arts venue with a woman, he was dressed nicely, and all of these factors brought up too many damn questions.

Goddamn it. Was he going to have to pretend to be dating Mariko? This misunderstanding had already happened once!

Besides, would having a secret girlfriend really be better than having a secret job?

No! But, he was desperate, especially as Jakurai looked up at his phone and noticed him with an easy smile. "Oh, good evening, Doppo."

"Dr. Jinguji! Hello, I mean, good evening!" The words came out in a rush too quick to be anything but panicked.

"My apologies. Did I startle you?" Or he was startled! Thank you, Jakurai, for your magnanimous nature.

"Ah… haha. Not too badly…" Doppo looked to Mariko and back. She had straightened up a little, as if to fix her tired posture.

Oh! Right, introductions! Do or die, here. Doppo had to decide on his course of action.

"Doctor, this is—"

Jakurai smiled knowingly, though he had the decency to look apologetic. "Ah, did I interrupt a date? My apologies. Jakurai Jinguji."

OH OK. Guess they were doing this now. Doppo could hardly believe that Jakurai would even consider that he would have a date… ever. He was actually pretty sure that if he'd gone down that route, he would've been seen through immediately. Doppo Kannonzaka? On a date?

Guess it wasn't as implausible as he thought.

Doppo gave Mariko a look, face pinched uncomfortably as he fought against the clock on what to say. She looked back with intense directness. Reading him. Studying him. She gave a minute shrug of her shoulders and looked back to Jakurai.

"Something like that...? Mariko Numaue. Mr. Kannonzaka was just… accompanying me back to the station."

"Yeah, something like that." Doppo parroted, body still tense from his lingering fear.

Jakurai continued to have that beatific expression, not a muscle wavering. "Of course. Doppo wouldn't let a young lady go unaccompanied. He's very polite and upstanding."

"I— I don't deserve such praise, it's just something anyone would do." Doppo stammered, turning slightly red.

"Still." Jakurai hummed softly, studying the two as they stood awkwardly side by side, albeit with a good amount of room between them.

"It's not too late for young people such as yourself. Have you eaten already? I would be happy to treat you both to dinner. To wrap up such a… successful evening?"

Doppo blinked owlishly and looked to Mariko. He couldn't get a read on what she thought. "We haven't. But Ms. Numaue needs to be getting home. Don't you?"

Mariko looked like she was considering, her lips pulling up into a smile of anticipation. "I can sleep in tomorrow. If Dr. Jinguji is insisting, I could eat. But only if it's at his insistence, naturally."

The allure of free food spared no one. Least of all exhausted models, it seemed.

Why this.

"Naturally. I am insisting." Jakurai nodded politely. "So? Would you allow me to treat you? It would be lovely to meet someone that Doppo has spent some time with."

The phrasing felt off, somehow. Doppo couldn't place it, but he felt it deep within him as a directionless unease. What was going on?

If Mariko was saying yes, then he couldn't say no. Who was he to deprive her of post-show free food? Who was he to deny Jakurai's generosity? He didn't have any good reason to refuse and rush home. Even if he pulled the 'early work' excuse, it wasn't like he hadn't gone in after two AM mandatory drinking parties, so a late evening dinner was nothing, and Jakurai knew it! On top of that, with Hifumi working, he would just be going home to an empty apartment.

Trapped by the most insidious trap of them all. Social conventions.

"Ah… If you really want to. I wouldn't mind." He was hungry too, after all. The looming challenge of keeping up a lie, though, to Dr. Jinguji? It felt impossible. Doppo could only hope that Mariko could make up for his clumsy attempts. In return for the free food, of course.

Hopefully, she had actually picked up some on what was going on here. They literally had just clarified that there was no dating interest at all, so the only reason he would agree to 'something like a date' was a situation where he needed a bit of backup. He watched Mariko for confirmation or denial, but got only the mild confusion of someone willing to go with the flow.

"Excellent. Ms. Numaue, are you familiar with this area? I can't say I know Shibuya restaurants that well."

Mariko looked up, tapping her chin in thought. "There's a Thai place nearby that's open late! Their food's good too. Monsoon, I think… let me look it up on maps."

"Excellent. Thai it is. Thank you." Jakurai turned his gaze onto Doppo. While he still smiled, still pleased by the coincidental run in— and maybe with Doppo being out on a date? His eyes were sharp and searching, filled with intent. Doppo felt like a mouse being watched by a hawk.

He swallowed thickly and tried to avoid eye-contact. Even as Mariko moved to show them the map, he could still feel the weight of Jakurai's attention on his back. 

Chapter Text

Everything was perfectly pleasant and peaceful. As Mariko had said, Monsoon Cafe was both open and nearby, and while a little busier than what one would expect on a weekday night (possibly owing to Fashion Week), they were able to get a table without much fuss. It was easy enough to make a reservation for 9:30, and by the time they got to the restaurant, a short wait on a balmy night was all they endured before they were sat down.

The interior had a warm, woody feel, full of houseplants, fancy jars of what Doppo would guess were pickles or otherwise suspended fruits and vegetables, and incandescent light bulbs in copper ceiling lamps. Somewhat upscale, certainly trendy, and surprisingly, rather comfortable, even for someone as awkward and unfashionable as Doppo.

It was probably the sheer amount of palms and succulents. They looked healthy too, he noted with a smile. As they were being seated, he'd seen a long, draping string of pearls with bright green, spherical leaves, each looking plump and watered, but not drowned. He imagined they would be nice and firm to the touch, if he was about the business of touching other people's plants.

After a moment of debate between if it was comfortable enough outside for terrace seating or not, they were sat at a four person table on the patio, which had window-like screens around it anyway, and heaters ready to go. It was comfortably quiet with the low hum of conversation in the background. Mariko plopped herself down on the side of the table with couch-like seating without hesitation. Jakurai chose the side with chairs. Knowing him, he was being conscientious of his spinal health.

Doppo was momentarily torn on where he should be. On one hand, if they were pretending to be dating or the like, he should sit by Mariko. That being said, it was sort of improper to be so much in her space when they weren't actually that close. Besides, it meant that Jakurai's eyes would be on him the whole dinner. On the other, he could sit next to Jakurai, which he was more comfortable with, and prevented the good doctor from staring him down. It didn't lend much credence to their 'date' lie, however.

He supposed they'd never said that they were 'dating', just that it was 'something like a date'. So maybe going with the proper option would be fine?

His eyes darted between the two spots. Jakurai smiled at him, amused, while Mariko seemed to be once again trying to figure out what he was thinking with little success. This wasn't a place where he could move a chair to the end of the table, was it? Too cramped.

"Doppo." Jakurai started gently, taking on the tone he often used in the therapy parts of Doppo's medical care. "I believe that either choice is okay, here."

Caught. Was he that obvious?

Mariko nodded her agreement. "You can sit next to your friend, it's not going to hurt my feelings."

Somehow, that didn't assuage his quick descent into decision paralysis.

Jakurai gave him a somewhat indulgent smile, almost the start of an eye-roll. "I see. Well, how is this, then." He stood, circling around the table to sit at Mariko's side on the bench. "If this is alright with you, Ms. Numaue?"

Mariko's eyes widened, her comfortable posture straightening in surprise. "Oh! Um. Yes, that's fine?" She shot Doppo a look, lips curling up into an apologetic smile.

"That way, the two of you can still be face to face." And Jakurai could watch Doppo. That part was unspoken.

Doppo swallowed, nodded his agreement, and slunk down into the open seat next to him. If he just ignored the sets of eyes trained on him and just pretended he wasn't there, surely his presence would just disappear, right? Especially once there was food! Everything was a-ok.

Doppo had to physically stop himself from hysterical laughter.

Why wasn't Hifumi there. If Hifumi was there everything would be fine for certain. He would take up the attention of both Dr. Jinguji and Mariko in one fell swoop.

Hifumi wasn't there. Hifumi was at work.

Oh god, things were so awkward.

Okay, things were awkward for Doppo. Mariko had quickly become interested in the menu, and Jakurai seemed content to generally watch everything happen, including observing other tables. Typical, typical. The only one suffering was himself and it was self-inflicted in every way.

His brain buzzed, the static of his anxiety overriding his attempts to think and plan. What would he say if Jakurai asked about himself and Mariko? He didn't know! What would he say if Jakurai so much as asked how he was? He didn't know that either! Saving face, masking emotions, those things Doppo could do. He was helpless in the face of needing to improvise.

At least initially, dinner conversation stayed light. Did he still flounder when Jakurai asked him what he wanted to eat? Yes. Did he manage to pick something? Also yes. Did he entirely know what it was? No. At least he managed to order a beer. For his nerves. Not that it would actually settle them.

By the time they all had their food, not much had actually been said. 'This looks tasty', 'have you been here before', 'what nice atmosphere'. Small talk, empty talk. Just how Doppo liked it. Nothing his brain couldn't handle.

The cold noodle salad he'd apparently ordered was nice. A little spicier than he would have wanted, and he'd needed to pick out and separate cilantro off to the side, but it was refreshing and flavorful with a slightly sweet and sour sauce. It paired nicely with the chill bitterness of the beer.

Jakurai had some sort of green curry, Mariko had some hot noodle dish. Doppo was not familiar enough with Vietnamese food to know what they were called off the bat, but both looked delicious. The smoothies they'd both gotten, one orange and one pink, those looked really good too. He did suspect that Mariko's was alcoholic, but seeing as Jakurai of his had taken a sip and not gone off the deep-end drunk… his was not. At least one thing could be taken as a genuine relief.

"So." Jakurai gave them some time to start their food before resuming conversation. "How do you two know each other?"

All that time, and Doppo hadn't been able to come up with a decent cover story. He'd had so much time. His mouth dried as he tried to find words.

"Work." Mariko was the one who answered for him, nonchalant as can be. She brought another bite of flat noodles— oh, Doppo remembered now, it was called Pad Thai— to her mouth, chewed, swallowed, then continued. "Work event. Just happened to meet at one of those socially required drinking parties." She flashed him a smile. What a saint. Between dragging his sorry, drunk ass home and now covering for him? He wasn't sure how much he owed her, but it was beginning to become a lot. At least two big favors. Or maybe a solid oseibo gift. That gave him a couple of months to factor her into his end-of-year giving, so—

"Oh, I see." Jakurai's eyes crinkled up in a smile. He leaned his elbows onto the table, resting his head on his hands in interest. "What do you do, Ms. Namaue?"

"Sales." Technically not a lie. The best kind of truth obfuscation.

Wait, actually that was bad. Doppo had been in sales. Jakurai knew that.

"And you didn't meet before? How peculiar."

Mariko raised an eyebrow at him. Doppo stared into the middle distance to try and keep himself calm. "You know me… not… um. The most social." Doppo managed to squeak out, lifting his beer in an attempt to hide behind it while he took a drink.

Jakurai hummed thoughtfully, then acquiesced with a nod. Sort of hard to argue that logic, although part of Doppo wished Jakurai had at least tried to defend his character.

"I suppose this all is just somewhat surprising. I can't say I've ever heard of you going out with a lady friend before." Right for the jugular. Surprisingly brutal, Doctor. Was it really that surprising that he was being accompanied by a pretty young woman?

It was, wasn't it. What if Jakurai thought this was one of those compensated dating things? Was he really that pathetic, that even his friend couldn't fathom that he might have a social life, let alone a love life?

Yeah probably.

"What were you two doing this evening? Were you attending one of the Fashion Week events?"

Doppo hadn't been cross examined this intensely since he was in high school. He'd truly thought his mother was the final boss of interrogation at the time— how foolish he was. Of course it was Jakurai who reigned supreme, he had that way of staring down Doppo until he squirmed, just like his mother did, but he also had a good 20 centimeters of height on him. His mother, while fearsome, was only 157 cm in her prime, and was beginning to slowly get smaller as the years wore on.

He met Mariko's eyes, quickly deciding on how to answer. If he said no, and Jakurai knew which event they'd just exited, then he would immediately be clocked as a liar. He had to say yes, then. But what was a good excuse?

The truth, or some of it. "Mariko also models. She was in a fashion event tonight, so I was there to support her." Good! Excellent. Not a lie. He was there to support her. And also Ramuda. And all of the other models.

He hoped Ramuda was alright, speaking of. His phone had been blessedly silent.

Mariko nodded in agreement. "He was a big help. He's really a reliable presence to have around."

"He is, isn't he." Jakurai gave Doppo a fond look. "That's truly wonderful. Supporting your friend like that."

Doppo looked down at his food bashfully, taking a couple of bites to collect his thoughts. "It seemed important."

"I have noticed that you have been paying more attention to your clothing lately, Doppo." Of course Jakurai did. It was hard to miss. He just hadn't said anything about it before now. "Would that be on the account of Ms. Numaue?"

Well. No. Though she was part of the equation, in a way.

"He seemed pretty knowledgeable about fashion by the time we met, actually. I think he underestimates himself." Mariko gave Doppo a bright smile. Traitor. Her sincerity probably meant it as a real compliment, but wow if that didn't sound like the weirdest thing to accuse Doppo of.

"You seem to understand him rather well." Jakurai agreed, not hesitating for a moment. "Tell me about the event. How did it go?"

The conversation lapsed into an energetic retelling of the evening from Mariko. She didn't mention any of Doppo's part in it, of course, but she was more than forthcoming with every other detail. She told Jakurai about her outfits, about how she was sure she would twist her ankle while walking, about how hot the dressing rooms were. Apparently she had quite a bit of stage fright, but Doppo hadn't noticed any.

Jakurai asked about the collection and the other outfits. Doppo would have thought that he would react, at least a little, when Mariko mentioned Empty Candy, but he simply continued talking, as if she had said the name of any other brand. A sparkle of genuine curiosity glittered in his eyes.

Doppo could almost hear the 'well, isn't that interesting?' that Jakurai was surely thinking.

They chattered long after they were done with their food, and even as they subsequently made their way out. Jakurai directed a question his way once or twice— 'what outfit stuck out to you' for example, or 'did you enjoy the show'— but otherwise had left Doppo to be a quiet listener.

Doppo could feel the tension begin to drain from his body, his shoulders relaxing, his limbs feeling shaky and a little weak. It seemed like there was an end in sight, and there hadn't been anything that he and Mariko couldn't answer.

If…Jakurai asked about her in the future, he could just say they decided to stay friends, and then the whole situation would be cleaned up. No fake girlfriend, no suspicious outings. Everything seemed to be falling into place with complete plausibility.

He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was flee home, get into bed, and not move until the next morning. Sure, he would have to drag Hifumi to Empty Candy for their suit fitting pretty early, but he had a feeling he would be getting some of the best sleep he'd had in a while in the meantime.

They waved goodbye to Mariko at the Omotesando station. Doppo logically would follow after her— he could take the Chiyoda line and transfer to the Fukutoshin to get him directly next to his apartment building. It would only be around twenty minutes, and he could finally be done with this nightmare of a day.

He was stopped by Jakurai's voice, just as he was about to say goodnight.

"Why don't I drive you back? You look tired." Jakurai placed a hand on Doppo's shoulder, firm, but still gentle for how large his hands were.

"It's not that bad of a trip. I don't want to inconvenience you." The hand tightened its grip slightly, holding him in place. Doppo could probably shake him off, but the insistence to stay was impossible to defy.

"Nonsense. I drove here. You're on the way. I parked in venue parking as well." Jakurai urged him to turn around and walk forward. Doppo followed obediently.

Huh. Wasn't that convenient. Way, way too convenient.

"By the way, Doctor." Doppo said slowly, glancing to Jakurai's guiding hand. "What are you doing around here this late?"

"Hm?" Jakurai moved his hold from Doppo's shoulder to place his palm on Doppo's shoulder blade. No longer confining, but still solid. "Oh. I was attending the fashion show. I also enjoy supporting my friends, after all."

Doppo froze, an ice cold feeling lancing into his chest. He couldn't get his feet to move. He couldn't breathe. Jakurai's hand on his shoulder felt as hot as a brand.

He couldn't mean the same show. But it was the only one in the building at the time.

What did he mean? What did he mean?

Jakurai continued speaking, but what had been nonchalant was suddenly gentle, warm. That parental tone he always took when someone around him was in distress.

What was he saying? He couldn't understand.

Doppo isn't sure if he heard what he said at all, honestly— he only distantly picked up on the tone— his ears were buzzing and hot, all sound unable to penetrate the sheer panic. The Tokyo city lights seemed to halo and blur, everything around him in a haze. It was as if he'd been plunged into glacier water, everything muffled while he was trapped under the ice.

Was he going to pass out? It felt like it. He was so light headed. Everything swayed. He didn't fall, though, his knees locked. Ah, actually that might have been part of the problem.

Jakurai was in front of him now. He was the one holding Doppo up. It was sort of a blur, but Doppo could tell that he was frowning. Of course he was angry. He had every right to be angry and—

"Doppo. Breathe." Jakurai squeezed his shoulders. "In through your nose… one…two… three… four… out through your mouth… good. Again..."

Doppo gasped for air. He felt starved of it. But still, he tried to listen to the instructions. In. Out. He was woozy.

"Can you name anything you sense around you? It doesn't need to be said aloud. Try for three."

Jakurai's hands on his shoulders. Sounds of people close by, talking. He couldn't make out the words. Didn't need to. In. Out.

What else, what else— Doppo's fingers found the edge of his suit, worrying the fabric. It was smooth. No, he could sort of tell how the threads rubbed together. It wasn't very thick.

He glanced down. Tan fabric. Blue fabric. One. Two. Three buttons. Oh, there was a yellow pocket square. Somehow he hadn't noticed that in the several hours he'd worn the suit. Had it only been a couple of hours?

He could feel the wallet in his pocket, how his socks slid against the leather of his shoes. His watch was cold against his wrist.

He could smell a whiff of sewage. Ew.

Doppo blinked slowly, focusing on breathing evenly. It wasn't easy, but his mind was clearing.

He was sitting on a curb. When had that happened?

Jakurai was crouching in front of him. The doctor's thumbs rubbed circles into his clavicles. The repetitive motion was somewhat soothing.

"Back with me?"

Doppo nodded, albeit somewhat distantly. He wouldn't say he was entirely situated in reality yet, but the ground was solid under his feet, his heart was beating hard but slowing down. It had been a while since he'd had a true panic attack— the nauseating shakiness of coming back down to earth was worse than he remembered. It always was.

"Good." Jakurai's face pinched a bit, eyes glancing down before coming back to Doppo's face. His lips were pursed. "My apologies. That was all a bit cruel of me, wasn't it?" Jakurai released Doppo's shoulders, shifting to sit next to him.

"Wha?" What was cruel? Jakurai hadn't done anything; well, outside of springing the confrontation on him maybe? Also, the awkward dinner.

Oh, okay yeah, maybe that was a bit much.

"I'm afraid I was having a little bit of fun at your expense. I was… aware of the true situation, after all." Jakurai folded his hands in his lap and looked right ahead.

Doppo stared down at his knees. What did he say to that? "I… since when? How?"

Had Jakurai just been at the fashion show and seen him? That seemed unlikely. So when—

"Some time now. I'm not very active on social media, but I do keep tabs on… well. I keep tabs. It's reassuring to know what is going on with friends and other divisions."

Doppo hadn't put anything on his own socials, though? And Ramuda had assured him that no one they both knew (outside of the rest of Fling Posse) followed Ramuda's accounts. Was that a lie?

"That does include keeping an eye on Amemura. His business account is rather enlightening on what he's up to."

Business account… so Empty Candy's page? Wait, hold on.

"That was weeks ago!" Doppo had only been featured on there once, he was pretty sure, and that was back when he first started, subjugated to the horror of Ramuda's neon decora dress up time.

Jakurai nodded.

"You didn't say anything?" Doppo's voice cracked, to his horror. He hung his head in an attempt to hide.

"I was going to allow you to come to me with it in your own time. However, it was causing you undue stress during our team meetings, and it is very clear that Hifumi knows." Jakurai sighed softly. "I was a little hurt, to tell the truth. Thus the dramatic method of confrontation. I thought that perhaps, catching you in the act, so to speak, would make you more willing to talk honestly about what has happened."

"Why did you let me embarrass myself like that, though—! You put Mariko through all the awkwardness too!"

At least Jakurai had the tact to look ashamed. "A bit of a punishment for further lying."

Doppo groaned and slumped fully. Maybe that had been deserved. Outside of the gray hairs he probably had grown, dinner was harmless. And tasty. Mariko looked happy about being treated, anyway.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Doppo braced himself for whatever came next, but it didn't come.

"…Well? Aren't you gonna tell me off? Tell me how stupid I am?" Doppo mumbled into his pants, unwilling to lift his head.

Jakurai patted his back and heaved another weary sigh. "No, of course not. Am I a little angry that you chose to keep several large life changes from me? Of course. But I would never call you stupid."

Doppo felt stupid. Everyone around him probably knew how stupid he was at this point. Even strangers. Or maybe they thought he was drunk! Who knew.

"Furthermore, I am… not concerned." It sounded like Jakurai had to think to pick his words. "While it is true that Amemura and I have our differences—" That was an understatement. "And I am frequently worried about his motives. And methods. And treatment of others. He is also often unpredictable, childish, selfish, and generally difficult to handle."

Not instilling a lot of confidence there. Truly. That was a lot of concern in his voice.

"But I am not concerned. You are a man of conviction and professionalism and—"

Also a pushover and a weakling, but Doppo would let him finish.

"And I talked to Amemura already. To ascertain his motives. And also to let him know what the punishment would be, should he cause one of my friends undue torment."

Doppo looked up. "You gave him a shovel talk?!"

Jakurai gave him an awkward smile and chuckled. "More or less. I confronted him as soon as I was able."

Which would have been— Ramuda had left for a business meeting the afternoon of his second day. Was that—

"Please, allow me to explain. And then maybe you can clarify a few things on our way home, hm?"

If asked, Jakurai would never admit to how much time he had just spent on his phone. It was a morning during work hours, after all, he was still on call and had appointments to attend to soon. He should have been using his scant free moments on post-visit paperwork and preparation for the next patient— but no, it was a full half an hour he'd spent staring at his phone with a mix of intense focus and agitation.

It had started with a phone call. Hifumi sometimes called him during his breaks, if only to talk about nothing while he did his chores. It was something of a routine, one Jakurai didn't mind particularly, allowing his teammate to chatter while he wrote session notes. If something was pressing, Hifumi would let him go without fuss or much warning, and they would just promise to talk later.

He'd taken one such call roughly a half an hour ago, immediately going into autopilot listening mode so that he could attempt some productivity.

Something about Doppo and a scarf, separate bank accounts, a date? (Preposterous, Doppo didn't have eyes for anyone but Hifumi, even if neither had said anything of it yet.) And then… a sugar daddy?

Alright, maybe he should have listened more closely and been a better friend. A touch too late now. Especially since Hifumi actually did seem rather concerned.

Well, Jakurai was nothing if not perceptive, he would just have to put it together from what he'd managed to caught. After comforting Hifumi, of course.

"Hifumi. I’m sure if anything important has come up, Doppo will tell us in his own time."

"But—"

“No ‘but’. If you’re worried about it, talk to him when you two have a moment. And I’m sure to notice anything strange at our next appointment.” 

This was enough to soothe Hifumi, as their conversation naturally closed afterward. Errands to run, evidently.

Jakurai put down his phone on the table and stared at it for a moment. What had Hifumi actually been talking about? A very expensive scarf that Doppo was wearing. One that he couldn't afford, or at the very least would not be comfortable buying.

Hm. It brought to mind a panicked conversation he and Hifumi had had the day before, actually. He'd paid better attention then, if only because that had been true hysteria on Hifumi's end. Doppo's clothes had gone missing. Doppo's routine was different.

Jakurai hadn't noticed a behavioral difference or a sudden need to pack up and flee from Doppo, but he could concede that Hifumi was right that Doppo getting home early was an abnormality. Just not a particularly impossible or concerning one.

That conversation had ended with both he and Hifumi getting clarification a bit later. A rage and self-hatred filled closet purge had been the source of that particular oddness. Or at least Doppo had said. Not out of the question with his moods but also sort of a strange reaction to being called unfashionable. Doppo may have had quite a lot of rage, but it wasn't directed at his own situation. Something like a critique was more apt to put him into a depressive slump than impulsive clothing destruction.

The point was, there was clothes again, showing up as a main actor in this Doppo-based mystery.

The fact that there was now a very expensive scarf in Doppo's collection brought up questions. For one, when did he become concerned enough with his appearance that he would A. Throw his clothing out to start a new wardrobe, and B. Come into possession of a designer accessory. For another, why did he feel comfortable receiving such an item? Was it a gift, and he didn't know its price? Or had he purchased it due to some sort of outside pressure?

Maybe Hifumi was on to something with being a touch worried. Doppo was easily pressured and shamed, his people-pleasing personality lending to a bit of fawning in high stress situations. So logically, something was going on that put pressure onto him to care about clothing of all things, possibly change his schedule, and keep whatever it was secret.

Jakurai couldn't help himself. He almost instinctively went to see what Ramuda Amemura was doing.

It was uncharitable, perhaps. He knew Amemura was working to change, to become independent of the ties that bound him, that despite his attitude, there was little reason to hold him as purely an enemy. (It was hard not to acknowledge that, not after what he had seen in Chuuoku.)

But his impulse was still to check. Amemura had a bit of a track record for enabling harm to come to Jakurai's friends— his family. Also, the obvious fashion connection.

He had several dummy social media accounts to follow the divisions. Just ways to keep track of the city's goings on without the pressure of the other teams knowing that he was, in fact, keeping track. One of them was solely for Ramuda— not stalking, no of course not stalking— check-ins. To see what he was up to, see what chaos Fling Posse had caused. If such things made him feel certain things, that was a different problem altogether. One he would deal with by himself on his own time.

Right. Checking on Amemura's activity. Nothing of note was on Fling Posse's feed, nor on Amemura's personal account (although he had to fight to keep a small smile off his face at the sight of ice cream on Ramuda's nose). Empty Posse's business account, however…

Jakurai spent a long moment just staring at the latest post. His expression was neutral, but that may have been because he was too stunned to emote. What was the most surprising aspect of what he was seeing? He couldn't begin to choose. Was it that apparently Doppo had gone to work for Amemura in fashion? Was it that Doppo must have quit his job at E.L. Medical, when he had not despite years of power harassment and encouragement from those around him to leave? Or was it that Doppo somehow pulled off the most garish bit of Harajuku fashion Jakurai had ever seen?

Neon green really brightened up Doppo's eyes. Or was that the image touch up…? The alien hair clip was a nice touch, very cute.

That was beside the point.

There were quite a few parts to this that needed processing. Doppo keeping something like this from Jakurai. Doppo being in potential danger around Amemura. Doppo both being brave enough to quit his previous job— ah, was that the day he cut his hand? It would line up— but also apparently cowardly enough to allow Amemura to play dress up.

He chose the most pressing of the three to act on.

Jakurai had never deleted Amemura's number. (He also knew that Ramuda had never deleted his.) So he called it.

It rang exactly once before being hung up on.

He frowned and tried again. Denied.

Really. Of all times, this was when Amemura decided to be childish? This wasn't boding well.

He tried a text message.

[Answer the phone, Amemura.]

He was almost about to text again to insist when a message came in return.

[Amemura] no <3

The most infuriating man alive. Jakurai wasn't sure how he'd ever stood the little gremlin. (He knew exactly how.)

[Then please, would you care to explain why my teammate is on the Empty Candy site?]

[Amemura] cause he's parta my team now lmfao

Jakurai didn't need to know text terminology to figure out he was being laughed at.

[I see that. I mean why is he working at Empty Candy?]

[Amemura] hired him?? duh? i needed a personal assistant?

[Amemura] pay him the big bucks to get me sweets n stuff <3

Jakurai wasn't sure if that was better than what Doppo was doing for E.L. Medical. He couldn't imagine the horror of being beholden to Amemura's whims. (He could imagine, he remembered the fun they had with 'rap training'. He couldn't say he'd gone bungee jumping since.)

[We need to talk about this.]

It took a moment for a response to come. He could just picture how Amemura must be rolling his eyes.

[Amemura] he didn't tell you about it?

[Amemura] well, Docchi's a big boy, doesn't need you nosing in on his whole life

Jakurai's eye twitched.

[Forgive me for being concerned.]

[Amemura] all forgiven <333

For the love of— brat.

[Amemura] i promise it's on the up and up!! I might hate you, but your posse's a-ok with me

That didn't stop him from causing Yotsutsuji's condition.

[I can't take you at your word.]

[Amemura] you don't believe meeeee? (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

[No.]

Surely he could understand why.

[Amemura] Fine

[Amemura] you wanna talk? we can talk but i'm not gonna argue with you over the phone

Jakurai raised an eyebrow.

[So you want to argue in person?]

[Amemura] i mean that maybe i can convince you im serious irl

[Amemura] i've got the paperwork and everything

[Amemura] sides, i just hate phone calls

Jakurai considered this. Developing a hatred for phone calls would be a new development in Ramuda's ever evolving persona, but he supposed it wasn't unreasonable. Also, it wasn't as if Jakurai couldn't defend himself if this was some sort of strange trap. A little talk would be at least mostly harmless.

[Very well. Over lunch?]

[Amemura] ew i'm not going on a lunch date with you old man

He wasn't offering. [I meant over the lunch break. Around noon. I will meet you somewhere outside our divisions of your choosing.]

[Amemura] Roppongi station, Roppongi hills exit

[Amemura] Dice is doing some weird shady job and I gotta pick him up

…Where did Ramuda find his teammates?

[Noon, Roppongi station, hills exit. I will see you then]

[Amemura] don't stand me up.

And that was that. Maybe a bit of a hassle, but he'd gotten Amemura to agree to talking. Or maybe a rap battle, knowing their encounters. Roppongi wasn't the worst commute either. He could certainly get there by noon if he took his lunch break right after his last morning appointment.

Amemura was there at the appointed time and place when Jakurai arrived. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything, fidgeting with his cellphone while leaning up against the station's wall. From how fast his fingers were moving, he could guess he was either typing or playing a phone game.

He looked up when Jakurai approached, however. Without a greeting, Amemura put his cell away, took a packet out of his yellow shoulder bag, and thrust it into Jakurai's hands.

"Hello to you too."

"We both know this isn't gonna be civil if you come in thinking I did something bad."

Fair enough. Jakurai flipped through the papers.

"I redacted stuff, cause it's not professional to be handing out employee info out, even to friends, but it's all legit. It's all there."

He had to admit, it did look legitimate. Jakurai was no expert on legal documents, that would be Hitoya at this point, nor on employment paperwork, but he could tell that if this was some sort of ruse, it was awfully elaborate.

"This does look like a real employment contract…" Amemura had Chuuoku contacts, of course, so he could likely fake documents, but… well, that seemed like too much effort to put in to fuck with Jakurai specifically.

"Told you so. Believe me now?" Amemura put his hands on his hips, somewhat defiantly. Jakurai could see his fingertips twitch, like he would have rather done another motion.

"This doesn't prove your motives." Jakurai closed the packet and handed it back to Ramuda, who stored it back in his bag.

"I dunno if I can 'prove my motives', Jakurai." Amemura scoffed. "But the fashion business is hard and hectic. I've been doing everything with just contractors for a long while now. Do you know what a pain that is? Gentaro's been bothering me to get a personal assistant for like, ever."

Alright, that was reasonable.

"And believe it or not, I don't get off on other people's pain." Could have fooled Jakurai, but he let Amemura continue. "I ran into Doppo at a bar a week or so ago. Since my posse ditched me, we hung out. God, that guy was miserable! Working way way too much for too little, not getting any breaks, being treated like trash."

Jakurai knew that very well. It was what he pointed out to Doppo more than once.

"I know a thing or two about… rough work conditions. So I just kinda went 'oh hey, I need help, you need to not be in your current job, come work for me'! It's not like he's unqualified. Office workers are always crazy good with boring admin, and I know that he's gotta be a master at doing the whole… business thing? You know. The apologizing and gift giving and respect and whatever. Which I'm trash at. So it seemed like a good idea."

…Was it that simple? Jakurai studied Ramuda's face. He'd missed his duplicity once, he would not again.

Ramuda at least seemed sincere.

"So I gave him my card in case he got fed up with his, like, super awful job. Told him that I'd hire him if he said the word. Guess something did end up getting to him."

"…And that's it?"

"Okay, and I thought it would be funny to make you squirm. But yeah, that's it."

If Jakurai had had doubts before, this cleared them, at least a touch. Something so simple and straightforward in personal motive, but also so petty, that was Ramuda's character in a nutshell. The kindness in it was less expected, but Jakurai couldn't deny that it wasn't out of character. Not really.

"Alright." Jakurai let out a sigh, leaning on the wall next to Ramuda's shoulder. He felt tired from all of the tension and worry. Rarely did things pan out so easily. He was happy that this was the case, at least for Doppo's sake.

"Huh? You accepted that real fast."

"It makes sense with everything else I know."

"So… all of the 'we have to talk' and 'I don't trust you', you're just putting that aside."

"Not aside. I did need to talk to you. And I do not trust you."

Did Amemura flinch just then…?

"But, I believe what you're saying right now. And I hope that you believe what I'm about to say."

Amemura eyed him warily, then nodded.

"If you cause him any trouble. If I find this is any sort of ploy for power or manipulation of my precious teammate for your own gain. You will regret it."

To Amemura's credit, the iciness of Jakurai's glare didn't visibly phase him. He simply stared back.

"I know."

Doppo and Jakurai had long since parked in front of Doppo's apartment building. The van was comfortable, and Doppo didn't feel like moving.

That was a lot to take in. But he wasn't actually surprised. He should have known that Jakurai was smart. That he would pick up on anything strange around him right away.

The doctor has just been waiting on him to bring the truth forward. Doppo had totally failed him on that. Assumed that Jakurai would judge him or berate him or even hate him for colluding with Fling Posse, for making such a crazy choice without his input. None of that had happened.

Honestly, that felt like a betrayal to Jakurai in and of itself, to assume that of him.

"And that was that, really. Amemura did indeed have to go pick up Arisugawa in the neighborhood. I bought lunch on my way back to the office. So. Is there anything you would like to add or explain, or was what Amemura said the entire truth?"

Doppo thought for a long moment, staring at his hands as he picked his cuticles. "He got most of it… Remember when I broke my mug? That's… that was sort of the last straw. I was so tired, and I loved that damn thing so much. I threw a fit. I couldn't save face from that even if I grovelled. I couldn't go back, but I couldn't be unemployed. I figured whatever Ramuda had in store for me couldn't be worse than that."

Jakurai nodded. "And? Has he put you through worse?"

"…No. It's been nice, actually. He's a lot, but he seems to respect me in a certain way. He relies on me."

"That's good to hear." Jakurai smiled softly. "I was going to say, it seems like you've grown a bit in the past few weeks, Doppo."

Doppo looked up, grimacing in confusion.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I came to the fashion show to support a friend. You did admirably. Your hard work seems to have really come through for Amemura's brand, not only in terms of how organized the show seemed… but Doppo, you gave a wonderful speech."

"Ramuda wrote it. I just read it."

"Giving a speech, even one fully written, isn't easy. I'm proud of you."

Oh. Was he going to cry? Doppo's eyes prickled with hot tears. First Ramuda thanking him in the speech, now this. When had he last heard someone say they were proud of him? Had he heard it ever?

"Now, it's very late. You should get some rest before whatever Amemura has you doing tomorrow." Jakurai gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Would you like me to walk you up to your apartment?"

Doppo shook his head and hid his face in his sleeve. He was going to get snot on his new suit, and he couldn't stop it.

"Then goodnight, Doppo. And don't hesitate to involve me in difficult things in your life, alright?"

Doppo couldn't even squeak out a proper response. Just a watery 'ok, goodnight' before he slid out of the car and toward the apartments' lobby. When he looked back, Jakurai was seated in the driver's seat, giving him a slight wave. Doppo waved back before taking refuge inside, where he would hopefully be able to deal with his tears.