Chapter Text
Satoru woke with a vague itchiness in his torso. Consciousness was hazy returning to him, registering a pricking sensation in his arm and the uncomfortable feeling of tubes lodged up his nose. There was something warm in his hand, curled around his palm and twined between his fingers.
Noise came next, the sound of beeping monitors and a TV on low volume reaching his ears. There was an awful taste in his mouth, which was terribly dry and fuzzy as if it was stuffed full of cotton.
Smell was harder considering there was something in his nose, but he could swear he scented vetiver and green tea.
He finally realized what the weight in his hand was, forcing his eyes to peel open.
Vision was the last sense to return to him, the blobs of white above him steadily shaping into the tiles of a hospital ceiling. He turned his head, blinking stickily as he looked over to the side of the bed.
Suguru was resting next to him, their cots pushed together so he could lay by him. Their hands were settled between their faces, Suguru’s wrapped firmly around Satoru’s as he clutched at him like a lifeline.
There was a furrow in his brow, eyes scrunched tightly shut and lips parted around soft mumbles. Even though he was asleep, peace was the furthest thing from Suguru’s expression.
Satoru wanted to reach up and smooth out the wrinkles, caress his cheek and drive away whatever demons Suguru was battling in his head. But he couldn’t bring himself to untangle their hands, not with how tightly Suguru was holding him.
He settled for gently stroking the back of Suguru’s hand with his thumb, content to just watch him. Suguru was dressed in a hospital gown just like Satoru was, matching gauze dressing peeking out from the loose collar.
Satoru knew he could wake Suguru up, but he didn’t want to deprive him of his rest, even if it did appear somewhat fitful.
However, Suguru being Suguru, liked to be contrary to Satoru’s wishes at the most inconvenient times.
Satoru watched as Suguru’s lashes fluttered, dark eyes dim at first but regaining their spark when he realized that Satoru was awake.
“Satoru?” Suguru whispered, looking so hopeful that Satoru felt his chest tighten.
“H–Hey.” Satoru rasped, wincing at how scratchy his voice came out. It almost hurt to speak.
Suguru rushed to sit up, flinching when he moved too quickly, but he reached over to the bedside table to hit the call button and pick up a cup of water. He slid gentle fingers into Satoru’s hair, cradling the back of his head so he could lift him up just enough to place the straw to his lips.
Satoru drank the water, slowly at first but then greedily as the liquid soothed his parched throat. Suguru shushed him, pulling the cup away.
“You’ll get nauseous if you drink too quickly,” Suguru said softly as he placed the cup back down. “How are you feeling?” he questioned.
“Been better.” Satoru admitted wryly, voice less rough than before.
Before Suguru could say anything else, a nurse entered the room, eyes widening when she saw Satoru was awake.
The next few minutes consisted of the nurse checking him over and taking his vitals, scribbling furiously in her clipboard. Satoru was compliant with everything asked of him except for letting go of Suguru’s hand.
Shoko walked in next, an invisible weight lifting off her shoulders when she saw Satoru. The nurse slipped past Shoko as the latter came over to Satoru and Suguru.
“Glad to see you’re up.” Shoko remarked as she pulled up a seat next to them. “Don’t ever put us through that again, asshole.” She finished, smacking Satoru’s thigh.
“Your bedside manner needs some work, Shoko-sensei.” Satoru huffed, cracking a smile at the brunette and receiving a small one in return. Her dark circles were worse than ever, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate him pointing it out even if it was out of concern. “Wanna fill me in on what I missed?” he prompted, looking between Suguru and Shoko.
“It’s a goddamn miracle that you’re both alive,” Shoko said bluntly. “Suguru got slashed, too, but yours were deeper. The blood loss alone almost killed you,” her lips thinned. “You died on the operating table, Satoru. It was sheer luck that we managed to revive you.”
“Oh…” Satoru swallowed, looking down at his torso. “I’m guessing I’m on a shit ton of morphine then because all I feel is just itchy.”
“That’s an understatement,” Shoko tsked.
“He cut you up, too, huh?” Satoru glanced over at Suguru, resting their joined hands against the latter’s chest. “Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” He murmured, unable to look his partner in the eye. “Guess I should’ve listened when you got on to me for being late all the time.”
Suguru ripped his hand from Satoru’s, startling him when he took his face firmly in between his palms. Suguru’s expression was thunderous, eyes narrowed into slits and mouth twisting.
“You fucking idiot,” he snarled.
Satoru stared at him, wide-eyed and completely out of his element because this was the first time he’d ever seen Suguru get genuinely angry at him.
“S–Suguru—” Satoru stammered, wanting to calm his partner down because he had clearly just stepped in it somehow.
“No, shut up and listen.” Suguru snapped, and Satoru’s mouth shut with an audible clack as he nodded. Shoko let out a low whistle at the scene. “He told me he killed you, Satoru. Do you have any idea how I felt hearing that? We’re partners and I just left you.”
Satoru wanted to argue that he’d told Suguru to, that they’d both had a mutual understanding it was the best course of action at the time, but Suguru’s glare kept his lips pressed tightly together.
“I’m alive right now thanks to you.” Suguru continued, the ire finally leaving him as the tense lines of his body slumped and he brushed a trembling finger against Satoru’s cheek. “So, don’t sit there and blame yourself for a damn thing. You saved me, Satoru. You saved me, because you fucking survived.” He whispered, having to look down to maintain the slivers of his composure when his voice broke.
Satoru reached a hand up, placing it atop Suguru’s as he leaned into the warmth of the other’s palm.
“Can I talk now?” Satoru checked in a quiet voice.
Suguru let out a wet laugh, peering at Satoru from under damp lashes. “Yeah,” he allowed.
“All of that, right back at you.” Satoru huffed, making Suguru blink in surprise. “Yeah, I know you, Suguru. How long have you been sitting there blaming yourself?” He raised a brow, and Suguru averted his gaze. “Thought so,” Satoru clicked his tongue. “Stupid, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you either.” He revealed, making Suguru’s dark eyes settle back on him with his full attention. “I don’t even remember much after he left me upstairs. All I do know is that you were the only thing on my mind. He told me he was going to kill you too and I…I knew that I couldn’t die before making sure you were safe.”
Suguru bit his lip, face twisted up with too many emotions for Satoru to even begin to name.
“You’re not supposed to die at all, idiot.” Suguru grumbled, leaning down to press their foreheads together.
“Suguru…” Satoru breathed, heart breaking when a warm tear dripped from Suguru’s lashes onto his cheek.
“Satoru…” Suguru sighed, staring into Satoru’s eyes as he inched just a little closer…
Shoko clapped her hands, reminding the two of her presence. “Well, that just made me want to down not one but two bottles of shochu.” She commented dryly. Suguru drew off of Satoru, settling into a cross legged sitting position next to him. He coughed into his hand to hide his blush while Satoru just pouted at his moment with Suguru being ruined. “God, everything about this makes me crave a cigarette.” Shoko muttered.
Satoru reached over to pinch her hand, making the brunette curse at the sudden pain.
“You promised Utahime you were gonna quit,” Satoru said disapprovingly. It was one of the few things he’d agreed with Utahime on. The irony of Shoko drinking and smoking as much as she did despite being a doctor was never lost on him, but he’d long since stopped finding it funny.
“I did,” Shoko grumbled. “I said I just wanted one. I’m not gonna actually do it.”
Satoru and Suguru exchanged looks, silently agreeing it would be the latter’s job to raid her office later to make sure she didn’t have any packs stashed away.
The door opened again, Kento and Yuu walking through this time.
“Gojo-senpai, you’re awake!” Yuu cried out, eyes immediately growing shiny as he rushed over to the bedside. “How do you feel?” he demanded. “You had us all so worried!”
“Pretty good considering I got slashed up like no one’s business,” Satoru flashed him a peace sign.
Suguru pinched Satoru’s nose, earning a yelp from the latter. “Don’t joke about that,” he snapped.
“But, Suguru, I deal with trauma through humor, remember?” Satoru whined nasally.
“You must be fine if you’re already back to your antics,” Kento huffed as he came over too.
Suguru let go of Satoru, sighing as he sat back. “You’d never know he was unconscious for the last five days with all the energy he has now,” he muttered.
“Five days?” Satoru blinked. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess that’s not so bad.”
“Try being the ones waiting for you to wake up, idiot.” Shoko tsked, taking her revenge for earlier by pinching Satoru’s arm.
“Wasn’t I the most injured? Why do you all keep picking on me?” Satoru complained, jutting out his lip as he glared at everyone.
“You’re not helping yourself, Gojo-san.” Kento rubbed weary fingers against his temple.
“Suguru, help me sit up. I’m tired of laying down.” Satoru demanded, making grabby hands at the other. Suguru rolled his eyes but complied, his exasperated expression betrayed by how careful his movements were as he lifted Satoru and sat him comfortably with a pillow behind his back.
“You should be thanking Nanami and Haibara. If they hadn’t shown up when they did, you two would’ve bled out underground and Fushiguro wouldn’t be in custody right now.” Shoko stated, giving Satoru a look reminiscent of a parent urging their child to remember their manners. A somewhat strange experience considering how hands-off Shoko tended to be, but it only showed Satoru how much the entire ordeal had shaken her up.
Satoru decided to deal with it later. If he thought about how close he’d been to dying let alone anything directly involving Toji, he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep it together.
“I think I remember hearing your voices,” Satoru looked at Kento and Yuu. “So, it wasn’t my imagination, huh?”
“You were the one who told us to meet you at the temple to go out after the mission,” Kento reminded. “Quite pushily, but I suppose it ended up being a good thing we showed up…”
“We came in and found…” Yuu swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, we just followed your trail, Gojo-senpai. By the time we got there, Getou-senpai had just managed to cuff Fushiguro.”
Satoru took a moment to study his juniors. Kento’s eyes stayed steady on him and Suguru, cataloging every one of their movements. Yuu kept glancing at their bandages then back up at their faces, brow furrowed as he fiddled with his hands. The concern in their body language was respectively subtle and loud.
Admittedly, Satoru was surprised by it. He’d been growing attached to them, but he hadn’t expected the same in return considering how disgruntled Kento got in his and Suguru’s presence. Yuu was a different story; the man was a golden retriever personified and he liked everyone he met.
“Well, Shoko’s right.” Satoru began.
“I’m always right,” the woman in question clicked her tongue.
“Thanks for saving our butts, you two.” Satoru grinned, patting Yuu on the arm since he was the closest. “Suguru will treat you to dinner to show our gratitude.”
“I was planning on doing that anyway, but the way you’re pushing it off on me pisses me off.” Suguru scowled. “You’re paying for yourself, Satoru. You literally have more money than the four of us.”
“But food tastes better when you pay for it, Suguru.” Satoru batted his lashes at his partner.
Before Suguru could let loose on Satoru, the door opened and Yaga was the one to step inside this time.
Yaga’s sunglasses slipped down his nose as he adopted a surprised look. Relief came second, shoulders slumping as he let out a deep exhale.
“Satoru,” he greeted.
“Hey, sarge.” Satoru returned, aiming for a cheeky smile that ended up more sheepish than anything else. “Long time no see…”
“When I said to take the mission seriously, I didn’t mean for you to go pull a stunt like this.” Yaga tsked.
“Why does everyone keep blaming me and not the actual killer we have in custody?” Satoru crossed his arms, sulking.
Shoko stood up. “I need coffee,” she said flatly. “Suguru, you’re coming with. It’s almost time for your walk anyway.”
“Let me help!” Yuu went over to the other side of the bed, letting Suguru balance against him as the black-haired man planted his feet on the ground and slowly stood up.
“When do I get to do that?” Satoru pointed at Suguru while addressing Shoko. He knew if he tried to get out of bed without her express approval, she’d most likely follow through on some drastic measures.
“Not for another two days at least. You both might have the same amount of stitches, but you lost more blood.” Shoko replied. “Try to even stick a foot off the side of the bed, and I’ll cuff you to it.”
“Kinky.” Satoru waggled his brows at Shoko, receiving a bonk to the head for it. It was lighter than usual, meant more as a reflexive warning than an actual scolding.
“We’ll be back in a little bit,” Suguru promised.
“Bring me back snacks,” Satoru ordered. “I’m starving.”
Kento and Yuu bowed to Yaga before they left with Shoko and Suguru.
It was just Yaga and Satoru now.
The older man came over, scooting Shoko’s chair a little closer before he sat down. He even removed his sunglasses, sliding them into the breast pocket of his uniform. “How do you feel?” he asked gruffly.
Satoru blinked, not having expected the question. Usually, Yaga liked to get right down to business. Then again, this wasn’t how assignments normally ended for them either.
Yaga visually checked Satoru over, the worry so clear in his naked gaze that it made the latter feel a pang of guilt. Yaga kept hovering between the stitches on Satoru’s forehead and the dark, mottled bruises covering his throat before remembering that Satoru’s eyes were between them.
“Shoko hooked me up on painkillers so I’m okay.” Satoru finally answered with a shrug. “So, he’s really in custody?” he questioned.
Yaga nodded, hands settled atop his knees. “Yes. Suguru’s statement revealed that Fushiguro Toji is the hitman otherwise known as the God Killer. We’re currently trying to track down all open homicides that could possibly be his work in addition to the ones he left his signature at.”
The perfect segueway had just dropped into Satoru’s lap and now he just had to take it. He took a breath, looking down as he considered how he was going to broach this.
“Yaga…” Satoru said quietly after a beat.
“What is it?” The older man questioned, voice going equally as low.
“There’s…something I’ve got to tell you.” Satoru admitted, hands fisting in the thin material of his medical gown.
Yaga was silent for a moment, and then there was a large hand landing atop Satoru’s head, careful to avoid the stitches.
“We’ve got time, Satoru.” Yaga assured him, and Satoru’s next inhale shuddered into his lungs.
Satoru swallowed down the lump in his throat, taking comfort from the older man’s presence. With Suguru, they gave as much as they took from each other. With Yaga… Satoru couldn’t help but feel like he was safe.
Right now, Yaga wasn’t Satoru’s superior officer. Right now, Yaga was the man who had picked Satoru up and pressed his face into his shoulder so that he didn’t have to keep looking at his parents’ bodies as the older man had carried him out of his childhood home.
“Fushiguro’s the one who orphaned me,” Satoru finally revealed.
Yaga took a deep breath, exhaling forcefully through his nose. “Goddamn,” was what he settled on.
It wrenched a laugh out of Satoru, startled at first before it veered toward hysterical.
“Goddamn.” He repeated in agreement, voice cracking along with the last threads of his composure.
✧•✧•✬•✧•✧
“A fucking promotion.” Satoru finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them after Yaga had left.
It had barely been three weeks since their failed assignment. Less since Satoru and Suguru had been discharged from the hospital and allowed to return to their apartment.
“He did say that he was recommending us a couple months ago,” Suguru reminded dully.
“Yeah, okay, but giving it to us after this assignment? They died.” Satoru growled, starting to pace the living room.
Suguru’s gaze fell to the newspaper on their coffee table. Both of their departmental headshots and Toji’s mugshot were on the front page. The article delved into how a hero cop and his partner had arrested one of Japan’s most elusive assassins, solving the fourteen year old murder of his own parents in the process.
“They made Amanai and Kuroi-san into a single byline.” Satoru muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
He couldn’t get over the fact that Riko hadn’t wanted to go through with the ceremony after all. She’d just wanted to go home with Misato. Both of their deaths had been for nothing.
Suguru had nearly broken down telling Satoru the details of what happened between him, Toji, and Riko. It had been their first night back from the hospital, holding each other as they laid in bed, voices hushed in the cover of darkness. Suguru only cried at night, too exhausted during the day.
Satoru hadn’t cried once. He’d shake, find it hard to breathe, and feel physically ill, but a single tear had yet to fall from him.
“I’m not accepting it,” Satoru decided after a moment. “They’re just promoting us because of the good publicity. Fuck that.” He snapped, crumpling up the newspaper and throwing it into the trash can.
“Satoru,” Suguru said quietly. It was all he needed to say to make Satoru stop pacing.
Satoru crossed his arms, glaring at the stain on the coffee table as if it was the true villain here. “It doesn’t feel right,” he bit out. “‘Sure, you failed your assignment, but good job on catching the killer. You’re detectives now.’”
“You’re right,” Suguru said.
“Suguru, you don’t— wait, what?” Satoru began in a huff before he paused, bewildered at how easily Suguru had agreed.
“I said you’re right.” Suguru repeated, his eyes knowing and gentle as he looked at him. “But becoming a detective is your dream, isn’t it? You shouldn’t be so quick to throw it away, Satoru.”
Satoru swallowed thickly, arms falling back to his sides and softening under Suguru’s tender gaze. He let out an aggrieved sigh as he went back over to the couch and plopped down next to Suguru, resting his head against his partner’s.
“Don’t abuse your ability to make me listen to you, Suguru.” He grumbled. “It’s underhanded.”
Suguru chuckled, wrapping an arm around Satoru and pulling him closer. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Satoru was quiet for another few moments before he shifted, peering at Suguru’s profile. “So…detectives, huh?” he murmured. “Think they’re gonna split us up?” he questioned, trying to keep his tone casual.
Suguru went quiet too, squeezing Satoru’s side. “Even if they do, it’ll be alright. I have your back no matter what, remember?”
Satoru relaxed, letting out a deep breath as he leaned against Suguru even more. Sometimes, being close was never enough. Even rarer was being able to solve the problem with words. This time, what rolled off his tongue was…
“And I’ve got yours.”
Suguru’s hold on him tightened, firm enough that Satoru knew he’d find impressions of his partner’s fingers on his skin later.
“It’ll be okay,” Suguru whispered. “It has to.”
Satoru had the distinct feeling that Suguru was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Satoru.
✧•✧•✬•✧•✧
Satoru waited until Suguru was asleep before slipping out of bed, sliding his pillow into the other’s arms and carefully sneaking out into the living room.
He went over to his bag, pulling out the folder Ijichi had put together for him. He headed to the couch next, pulling his Cinnamoroll throw over himself as he clicked on the lamp.
[CONFIDENTIAL]
RE: FUSHIGURO TOJI
Satoru took a steadying breath before he opened the folder to look at the files inside.
Toji was thirty-four, born to a maid who worked for the Zen’in family. His father wasn’t listed on his birth certificate, but his mother had put down Zen’in as his birth name and multiple sources confirmed that Toji’s father was a prominent politician who had passed away some years ago.
Ijichi’s sources went on to talk about abuse so horrific that they refused to go into detail. What they did admit to was witnessing the regular beatings, dehumanizing language, and severe neglect that Toji was put through for the entire duration of his childhood and adolescence.
Satoru closed the folder, swallowing down the nausea bubbling up in his throat. He hated this. Toji was someone he should be able to curse and despise completely. Reading about how terribly he was treated growing up—to see that he’d started out as a victim who’d never been given a chance—only served to humanize him.
It wasn’t fair. Toji had taken so much from him, and Satoru had every right to hate him. He did hate him.
However, a very small part of him was coming to understand Toji.
It was a sickening realization to have about someone he considered his own personal boogeyman.
Satoru took another breath, reopening the folder and beginning to read again.
Toji had run away from home when he was fourteen, alternating between stays in juvenile detention and living on the streets. The older he got, the less he tangled with the law.
Satoru knew it just meant he was getting better at not getting caught.
At twenty, Toji had killed Satoru’s parents. Satoru skipped over the case report, having long since learned the details by heart.
Not to mention, the memories from that night had been plaguing Satoru’s nightmares and leaving him jolting awake in Suguru’s arms like clockwork for the past three weeks. With his luck, reading the case report again would just make the dreams more vivid.
He was upset at himself for still being so affected by it. After all, it had happened years ago and while Satoru had loved his parents, it wasn’t as if his life was so bad now. He had Yaga and Suguru and Shoko. Kento and Yuu had started to wiggle their way into his small circle, too.
Satoru had thought he would be able to find closure after catching the killer. Somehow, he felt even more lost now than when he was searching for clues in the dark. And Satoru just couldn’t bring himself to stop searching now.
Toji was an enigma and there was still so much Satoru didn’t know.
The matter of Toji’s clients was the biggest mystery of all. Specifically, the one who’d hired Toji to kill Satoru’s parents and leave him alive.
If there was a single hint to their identity that could be found by diving into Toji’s history…
Satoru kept reading.
Surprisingly, Toji became inactive at age twenty one. Satoru remembered Toji telling him killing his parents had only helped his hitman career, so then why did he stop after just a year?
Satoru realized why when he saw the marriage certificate. Toji had stayed off the radar for the next four years.
Then, his wife died in a car crash and Toji had returned to the underworld with a vengeance.
He remarried less than a year later, but this time his work as the God Killer didn’t slow whatsoever, let alone like it had with his first wife.
God Killer. A demon who slayed gods without fear or repentance. The title given to the elusive assassin who used the Inverted Spear of Heaven to kill the rich and powerful no matter what type of security they tried to use to defend themselves.
Satoru read over the dozens of cases Toji had been involved in: ten years’ worth of criminal activity of a very prolific, high in demand jack of all trades.
By the time Satoru finished, he felt nauseous again. Thankfully, there was only one page left. However, when Satoru read over it, his brain blanked, unable to comprehend what the information was telling him.
Toji had children.
✧•✧•✬•✧•✧
“You’re certainly not who I expected to be calling. Too busy to come down to the prison to ask your questions?”
“I’ve seen enough of your face to last me a lifetime.”
“If you’re trying to hurt my feelings, it’s not going to work, but keep beating around the bush. You’re not wasting anyone’s time but yours.”
“The worms.”
“What about them?”
“You left one behind on everyone you ever killed. You tried to leave one on me. Why?”
“Do you really wanna know? I told you everything has a price, pretty boy.”
“…I am not putting money into your commissary account.”
“Tell you what… When I get out of here, I’ll give you a repeat demonstration. I owe you for making my arm unusable. Imagine how much one of my limbs costs, let alone my dominant arm.”
“Firstly, you’re not getting out of prison for a long, long time. Suguru and I are gonna take the stand at your sentencing to make sure of it. Secondly, it was your arm or your head. You’re lucky I wanted you to rot away behind bars and live with everything you’ve done.”
“Enjoy your peace while it lasts. Don’t forget, I always collect on my dues.”
“Yeah, well, don’t forget not to drop the soap. Good luck in gen pop with one good arm.”
CLICK.