Chapter Text
This is going to collapse quickly. He’s too stubborn.
Just buy time, that’s all we need.
---
Azami opened his eyes to blinding morning sunlight beaming down on his face. He blinked in annoyance and threw the covers off - if he had time to be irritated, then he was wasting it. Well, misusing it. Something like that, sure, whatever. There was no one here in this spacious mountain home to contradict or argue with him so he had to make noise in his own head as usual. Anyway, it was time to stand up and face the day.
He stretched and stepped over to the closet and fumbled for Kamunabi uniform parts in a sea of dark fabric with white dress shirts. How long had he been wearing this for? Ages, it felt as he carefully pulled a crisply ironed shirt off the hanger. Not long enough, it felt as he tugged yesterday's haori off the door where he'd hung it before going to sleep. His job was never done no matter how many hours he lingered past official closing time.
What would it be today, he wondered as he thudded down the stairs to the kitchen. Eggs? Eggs, but burnt? Burned eggs with a side of shell pieces? He put on an apron - plain dark grey, a bit of a theme in his decor choices too - and grumpily cracked open two eggs in the pan to scramble them. It would be nice to have someone cook for him but he wasn't about to waste money on a housekeeper. Paying for this place just to live in all by himself was already too extravagant. He hadn't even converted the old detached forge into a guest room like he'd planned yet, despite tallying the cost of labour and materials before he'd moved in…
How long ago?
He grunted when an irritating bit of white noise kicked up in his head. He'd had a huge tinnitus problem after swimming competitively in college for some reason. Swimmer's ear that didn't heal properly or something- not that it mattered. He just had to go back to the doctor and ask if there was something else that could be done now that it'd been about a decade and a half since he'd first inquired about his treatment options. He knew there was no hope of curing this, as if a miracle could happen and also ease the pain in his lower back when he sat at his desk for too long or remove an old scar that he'd earned when- oh, the clock on the stove was already reading almost 5:30. He'd be late if he didn't hurry.
He ate the eggs (lightly burned, not too shabby) and spruced himself up before leaving and locking the door behind him. He bitterly mused that someone probably would have nagged him about eating better or taking better care of himself as he headed to his car, but there was no one like that in his life. No one to teleport him to the office either, so he had to drive an hour each way. Why was he living out here, again?
Azami turned up the radio after the engine started to drown out the tinnitus and indulged himself with a brooding session on his long drive. He knew some of what was waiting for him in the office and the rest would be meeting after meeting after meeting until he wanted to scream and use his sorcery to fry everyone in the room to shut them up. But if they talked, he didn't have to think; if he was working, he wasn't dwelling. If he had to think about what he wasn't trying to think about he'd go insane, probably. So he listened to a radio jockey yammer on about the weather and some celebrity gossip while he got all his miserable feelings out of the way before he clocked in.
---
"Good morning, sir! The evil of the night hath been vanquished and the sun hath risen to smile upon us once more!"
"Good morning, Ikura."
He didn't let any of his exhausted irritation show as his subordinate greeted him much too enthusiastically about two hours after he'd settled in behind his desk. Azami cherished those early morning hours when it was just him and the paperwork. Not that Ikura was a bad kid, Azami reminded himself as he rattled off a run-down of what they needed to do today. The guy just unfortunately brought the taste of his preferred brand of antacids to mind whenever they interacted.
"It shall be done, my lord," Ikura intoned solemnly with a formal bow once he was finished. Azami waved him off with a suppressed sigh - normally people outgrew that phase of their life after middle school, but not his "most loyal servant" who had joined the Kamunabi to "fight against the forces of evil". At least he wasn't wearing an eye patch or muttering about being a servant of some goddess on a secret mission today. Azami would take this silly knight affect over those any day.
He shifted to a slightly less uncomfortable position in his chair - the dictator in charge of office supplies refused to give him one with proper lumbar support, damn her and her dyed bangs that changed every damn day - and finally let out a long groan of frustration. He'd risen in the ranks and gotten promoted to the pinnacle of paperwork. He made good money, sure, but he felt like there should be more to life than reviewing stacks of data and talking all day. More than getting up with the sun and staying up until the moon had risen high in the sky before turning in for a few hours of sleep. More than living alone in a huge empty house out in the mountains that no one ever bothered to visit him at.
But who would come and see him, he thought as he aggressively stamped his seal on document after document. He had no one after drifting apart from his college buddies. Even the two who he'd been closest with had fallen out of touch even though they'd started here at the same time he did. They'd always been less ambitious than him and he'd simply let communication lapse while he climbed the ladder. The invites to go drinking after work had gone from a few nights a week to once a month to never and he only had himself to blame.
Were they even still here? The blonde one that smoked, what was his name... damn, the tinnitus was awful today. The one that pissed him off half the time was never made for government work so it'd been a surprise when he'd announced he'd applied to the Kamunabi. The other one though, the silly one with soft black hair and crimson eyes - he'd been earnest from the start, and Azami's heart had squeezed at the prospect of being able to work with him. His days would have been full of mirth and sunshine if they'd been assigned together. If he hadn't let him go.
"...Kunishige."
He said the name softly, suddenly. Kunishige. Kunishige... Rokuhira.
The paperwork was a blur as he moved automatically to file and sort and stamp. Kunishige . A strong, burly man with a booming laugh and a silly expression always on his face. An irreverent goofball with a huge heart that more than made up for his stupid jokes and lame T shirts. The light in Azami's life when times were so dark he didn't think he'd live to see his next birthday. The man he'd yearned for in secret for so long that the heartache became familiar and sweet. How could he have forgotten someone he cared for so much?
But what did he have left to cherish beyond things far larger than himself; duty, honour, country? Things so massive that they were impossible to hold close to one’s heart. The only thing that had kept him from checking out early these past few years was pride, yet even that was beginning to wane. Pride hadn’t saved what he wanted to love, after all - it had only led him here. To-
Azami paused and touched his fingertips to his lips. If he'd said something about how he'd felt before they'd lost touch, would he still be this bitter and empty while having so much that others aspired for?
“Salutations, milord! Lady Knight Hiyuki Kagari and her, uh, vassal Tafuku Mihara are waiting for your widsom in the chamber beyond!”
Ikura’s voice outside the door shattered his reminiscence. Azami collected himself and found the report he needed before setting out to give orders. He didn’t have time for this melancholic nonsense, not when there were petty sorcerers to wrangle for disturbing the peace.
Hiyuki was her usual flippant self while Tafuku listened carefully as he gave the description of who they needed to apprehend - an odd man of indeterminate age, probably in a suit, with short black hair and white eyebrows. His most notable characteristic were his bright yellow eyes that appeared to have rings in them as well as several facial piercings. And a flame-shaped tattoo on his right hand.
“So we just have to grab this guy and bring him in? Easy,” Hiyuki said, clearly thinking this was below her talents.
“Be careful of his sorcery. We know he can fight well in close quarters and teleport, but he may have other tricks up his sleeve. Some reports came in last night about him using pine trees to create walls and snare agents.”
“Now that’s more interesting. Is he strong?”
“We haven’t been able to pin him down since his organisation became active a decade ago. Apprehending his subordinates took almost everything we had and he’s evaded us time and again.” There was probably an informant in the Kamunabi’s ranks, Azami recalled, but he kept that information to himself. Tafuku was trustworthy but Hiyuki was renowned for accidentally blabbing state secrets in the heat of the moment. “We need you to subdue him in a duel and bring him in.”
“Sure, got it. Let’s go!”
“Alright. Thanks, Mr. Azami.”
Azami nodded them out. Hiyuki was fired up now, which was good. If she and Tafuku couldn’t catch this guy then no one could.
He shoved down the half-formed wish of wanting to duel the man himself - he’d been out of practice for years, there was no way he’d win - and told Ikura to go to lunch so he could have some more privacy. He spent his own lunch break finishing the last of the paperwork on his desk while a permanent sense of something missing settled deep in his heart.
He didn't always have so few people under him. He felt like he should have a competent team working for him out in the field and sending in reports, but he'd been bound to this desk years ago. That life was long gone now. It was just him, Ikura, Tafuku, Hiyuki, and the damn buzzing in his head lately.
The afternoon meetings dragged on through dinner as usual. Then through an “optional” drinking session, then another round at a different bar, and it wasn’t until close to midnight that Azami staggered through the front door. Living far away was a double-edged sword: he could beg off from the alcohol and leave early, but that still kept him with his coworkers until the deep hours of the night most workdays. The drive back was always a battle against weariness.
He didn’t bother announcing his presence to the gloomy house and tossed off his shoes before dragging himself upstairs to brush his teeth and collapse in bed. So what if he slept in his uniform some nights? He was allowed to after working so hard. For what, he wasn’t so sure of these days. But sleep pulled him under before the hole in his heart did and that was all he could really ask for.
---
How much longer? It’s not going to last.
Just do the best you can to buy time. Sorry.
---
A harsh alarm jolted him from whatever mundane dream he’d been having. Azami blinked in the early morning sun beaming on his face before rolling on his side. He spared a moment to spite the contraption for making the ringing in his head worse than it needed to be before addressing the reason it was going off.
“Hey. Turn off the alarm and get up.”
“Nnngh… five minutes…”
Azami gave the man laying next to him a nudge in the kidney. “You told me to get you up no matter what this morning. Come on.”
“Just… five…”
“You’ve got an important client coming today. The Sa-”
“Oh! Right!”
Azami gave Kunishige a kiss on the head and rolled out of bed to get dressed. He admired the way those strong blacksmith’s muscles stretched and rippled while the man who’d built them up one swing at a time tried to wake himself up properly. This was early for him, and he looked extra stupid with his bleary blinks and jaw-cracking yawns, but Kunishige could focus and get things done when it came to his job at least. It was the only thing he ever got serious about.
“I asked Hinao to make you an extra large portion today,” Azami said as he finished getting dressed. He checked the mirror inside of the closet. No hickeys above the collar, good. He didn’t need to check Kunishige; he was always far more careful about where he left evidence of their relationship.
“Thanks! At least one of us is on top of things,” Kunishige said with a sleepy laugh. “I’d be helpless without you.”
“And Hinao.”
“Yeah, her too. We’d probably starve without her.”
“And live in a pile of dust and dirt.”
“Yup. Man, the sun’s bright today. Alright, I’m up! I’m up! Stop tellin’ me to get goin’ already.”
Azami smiled while Kunishige griped to himself and made his way downstairs. Hinao had already finished breakfast - a spread of miso soup, tofu, rolled eggs, kale, porridge, and seaweed - and was cheerfully humming to herself as she tidied the living room. They waved hello to each other and he took his time to savour the home-cooked meal he’d never have the energy to make himself. Kunishige always said she should be running her own restaurant and Azami agreed - the young woman knew her business in a kitchen.
He dithered just to see Kunishige finally stomp down the stairs in his best craftsman’s clothes. He looked fine as hell, of course. Especially now that he was awake.
“Wow, looks good! Thanks Hinao!” Kunishige’s voice boomed through the whole house. Hinao’s laughter from the other room faded out as she moved on to the back. Azami stayed at the table - it was only 5:30, he could afford to waste another fifteen minutes or so.
“Are you going to be working before they show up today?”
“Of course! I’ve gotta show ‘em I’m the real deal,” Kunishige said through a mouthful of egg. “If I can impress the head of the Sazanami clan, I can impress anyone.”
“And sell your swords to anyone and everyone for any price you want,” Azami said. They were comfortable - definitely well-off between both their incomes - but Kunishige’s pride as a blacksmith was always driving him to greater heights. It was one of the things Azami loved so much about him.
“Damn straight. And I can sell them at the Rakuzaichi instead of keeping a list of who asked for what and retire early. Maybe I’ll take cooking lessons! Or travel the world!”
Azami laughed and earned himself an annoyed expression from Kunishige before he was joined in his mirth. They both knew the man’s greatest love in life was forging ceremonial swords. If he didn’t live with Azami, he’d forget to eat and wash himself before he collapsed into a rank heap in front of the anvil. So he’d admitted several times over the eighteen years they’d lived together.
“Yeah, no chance. But it’d be nice to relax a little more. This place gets a bit lonely during the day,” Kunishige admitted as he dug in to the double serving of tofu and porridge. “It’d be nice to have someone around to make some noise you know? Hinao’s great but she leaves before lunch.”
“Hmm. Maybe we could get a dog,” Azami said thoughtfully.
“Oh! Great idea! I’ll go into town today-”
“Not right now!”
“Why not? We’ve got the space and we want the critter. Let’s do it!”
“Not today. You’ve got the Sazanami Patriarch himself coming over. And we’d need to prepare a lot to make this place ready. Besides, neither of us really have the time… speaking of.” Azami stood up and shook his head a bit to clear out the noise. “I’ve gotta get going.”
“Your ears bothering you again?” Kunishige asked as he started on the last of his breakfast.
“Yeah, just the usual. I’ll try to be home early tonight.”
“On-time, you mean!”
“On-time. Yeah.” Azami smiled warmly. “I’ll be here.”
Kunishige gave him a sunny grin in return before blowing a kiss. “Good! I’ll get takeout from the good sushi place!”
“I’m counting on it,” he said as he pushed his chair in before making his way to the entryway. Kunishige called after him to wish him a good day and Azami wished him the same before stepping out into the brisk autumn morning. Life could get better than this, he thought, but not by much. The long drive from this mountain into the office was worth it and more.
---
“Good morrow, my liege!”
“Good morning, Ikura.”
One of the few irksome things about living made his presence known as soon as he arrived, but Azami greeted his assistant with a neutral smile. He wasn’t a bad sort, just incredibly embarrassing to be around. A consequence of losing a battle among his peers for headcount and competent resources during the recent reorg. At least he was wearing the proper uniform without any custom accessories today. Azami had the patience to explain to the kid why he couldn’t wear an eye patch he didn’t need in the office for the sixth time, yes, but he was glad he didn’t need to.
“I rose with the sun and broke my fast upon the bounty of the fields this morning to sustain myself for the arduous tasks ahead. What essential deeds to defend the realm lay before us this day?”
“This stack of paperwork,” Azami said as he pushed the smaller of the two piles towards Ikura. “Please review these security reports for accuracy then summarize all of them for me. I need the first four done before lunch.”
“As you command, my lord!” Ikura said with an enthusiastic salute. Azami’s smile remained fixed in place and he waved his assistant out, just in time for his other two subordinates to barge in past him as he left.
“Yo. What are we doing today?”
“Good morning, you two.” Azami returned Tafuku’s nod while Hiyuki crossed her arms to wait for orders. She was as grumpy as always in the morning. “I need you two to apprehend a wanted criminal that’s evaded the rest of the force.”
“Hell yeah,” Hiyuki replied with a fierce grin, all irritation seemingly forgotten at once. “What’s the deal?”
Azami pulled the field report that had been forwarded up to him off the top of the stack. “A young man about eighteen to twenty years old with short black hair, red eyes, and a distinctive curved scar on the left side of his face. He’s been acting as a vigilante and cutting down criminals before we can get to them - and him.”
“Noble beliefs, huh…” Hiyuki mused darkly.
“Sounds like a kid who thinks he can do better than the law,” Tafuku said.
“That’s the assumption we’re operating off of. He’s considered armed and extremely dangerous, though he hasn’t shown hostility towards the Kamunabi itself. He escapes us every time instead of fighting.”
“What’s he fight with? I wanna take a crack at him if he’s strong!”
Azami smiled to himself. It was worth getting saddled with Ikura to have Hiyuki and Tafuku under his command. “A katana. By every account, it seems to be encha-”
Blinding pain pierced through him from tip to toe and Azami fell forward on the desk.
Goldfish manifested from an enchanted blade wielded by a stoic boy on the cusp of manhood. His red eyes gleamed with determination that Azami knew masked endless grief, though both feelings were vital to helping the kid stay on the bloody road he’d chosen to walk.
The shooting star scar on the boy’s face never let those involved forget what happened that day. There would be no solace for anyone until he settled the debt of death he was owed by his father’s killers.
Azami gasped as it wracked him and he fought the urge to vomit. He hadn’t experienced anything like this, ever - not even when he was on the front lines getting in scraps with criminal sorcerers every day. All he could hear was a single piercing note that shook him to the bones. All he could see was this strange-yet-familiar tragic figure dominating his vision.
Then he was younger, with shorter hair, brighter eyes, and a deadpan look that belied all the strong emotions underneath. Azami knew him well, though perhaps not as well as he would like given how often he chose to stay late at work. He’d known him since he first saw him as an infant swaddled in strong arms. This child was worth more than all the precious ores in his name - more than anything, even his father.
The boy slowly turned to look at him. “Mr. Azami,” he said in a soft voice, polite as ever. “Mr. Azami, you’re not where you need to be.”
“I’m-!”
Azami found himself sitting up alone in his office. He carefully looked around and the pain receded as suddenly as it had struck, leaving him shaking. What was that? What the hell happened to him? Who was that boy he felt he should know?
And why did he look so much like Kunishige?
A sharp rap on the door was the only warning Azami got before Hiyuki barged in with Tafuku following close behind.
“Yo. What are we doing today?”
Azami blinked. He could have sworn he’d just seen this a moment ago - Hiyuki crossing her arms and looking grumpy like she did every morning, Tafuku apologetically greeting him.
“...Good morning, you two,” he said hesitantly.
“You alright? You look sick,” Hiyuki said, blunt as always.
Azami mentally shook himself. He needed to keep it together at work - it wouldn’t do for the staff to see leadership looking so fragile. He could worry about whatever that experience was later. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache. I need you two to apprehend a wanted criminal that’s evaded the rest of the force.”
“Hell yeah,” Hiyuki replied with a fierce grin, all irritation seemingly forgotten at once. “What’s the deal?”
Azami pulled the field report that had been forwarded up to him off the top of the stack. “A young man about sixteen or seventeen years old with medium length black hair, slightly heavy-set, wearing the uniform for the local high school and usually with a crescent-shaped drawing done in black ink on the left side of his face. He’s been acting as a vigilante and putting down criminals before we can get to them - and him.”
“Noble beliefs, huh…” Hiyuki mused darkly.
“Sounds like a kid who thinks he can do better than the law,” Tafuku said.
“That’s the assumption we’re operating off of. He’s considered armed and extremely dangerous, though he hasn’t shown hostility towards the Kamunabi itself. He escapes us every time instead of fighting.”
“What’s he fight with? I wanna take a crack at him if he’s strong!”
This conversation felt like déjà vu in the weirdest way to Azami. Had he talked about this guy with someone else before somehow? Impossible, he’d just gotten the report this morning and had waited for Hiyuki and Tafuku to show up before taking it off the stack. No one else had talked to him since he arrived either, he was sure of it. It was just a funny feeling after that migraine he’d had.
“He fights with an old-fashioned key, average size for the ones used in hotels and hospitals for staff-only utilities. It’s been described as part of his sorcery- anyone it touches loses all their memories and sense of self, essentially turning them into living vegetables. We don’t have the means to bring the victim’s minds back yet so be careful when fighting him.”
“Some high school punk with a key won’t be much of a challenge,” Hiyuki scoffed.
Azami looked towards Tafuku and a silent understanding passed between them. “We’ll be careful,” Tafuku promised.
“Good. Hiyuki, you’re authorised to use Rikuo up to the spinal column. Any costs that you incur will come out of your end-of-year bonus.”
Hiyuki almost complained but seemed to remember her manners towards her superior at the last minute. She settled for clicking her tongue instead. “Alright. Let’s nab that guy and come back for lunch.”
Tafuku’s world-weary expression as he and Hiyuki both bowed before they left to get started resonated in Azami’s soul. Hiyuki was extremely talented but it was difficult to rein her in enough to avoid being snowed under by accident reports and claims for damages. There was no room left in his budget to hire an assistant despite Tafuku’s best efforts to contain her. Azami had lost the staffing battle earlier in the year by being saddled with her, but at least it kept him interacting with the front lines he longed to go back to sometimes.
He heaved a sigh when the door clicked shut. Well, these reports wouldn’t correct and summarise themselves. It was the type of work he’d left behind about a decade ago but he told himself not to gripe- he just needed to treat the next discussion about headcount like a life-or-death battle. He also needed to get cracking if he intended to be home in time for the sushi dinner he’d been promised.
---
He was home in a flash even with the detour to pick up the sushi that Kunishige requested at the last minute, as usual. The trip was a total blur but it couldn’t have taken more than thirty minutes, tops. Longer than he liked but that was life with a man who could only really function in the forge - Azami had gotten used to acting a bit like a parent a long time ago. It was one of his strengths to be organised and on top of things so he didn’t mind much.
He parked and stepped out to the warm spring evening with the to-go bag in hand and walked towards the house. An extremely luxurious town car of foreign make was also parked nearby, so he figured he’d head straight into the kitchen instead of disrupting the deal with the Sazanami patriarch.
Kunishige’s laughter rolled across the yard and Azami looked towards the forge when he reached the door. He smiled - seemed like things were going well. The man he assumed to be the Patriarch was wearing a polite smile that was as crisp as his immaculately tailored suit and holding a manila envelope in hand. Azami recognised it right away as the papers that were given to clients who agreed to a contract. Things were going very well indeed.
He also noted the presence of four rather strong sorcerers scattered about in strategic vantage points. Guards, most likely. He could only see one - a tall and bored-looking young man with two thin strands of long white hair tied over his left eyebrow - standing near the Patriarch. The other three were on watch in the nearby trees, behind the forge, and the side of the house. He silently praised them for their poise, whoever they were. Lesser bodyguards would have accosted him at his own house, but they recognised him as someone who lived here. Or perhaps he was no longer a threat with how soft he’d gotten-
Azami shook his head despite it making the ringing in his ears worse. He was more than a match for anyone except that teleporter he’d tied with back in college. What had happened to him, anyway?
“Hey, Mr. Azami! Can I have a sec?”
He blinked. Suddenly there was a kid in a suit standing next to him. He had the same white hair as the rest of the Sazanamis, but his was cut lopsided with a bunch of long strands gathered up on the left side of his face with black hair ties. His big blue eyes seemed out of place somehow, too innocent almost, since a family famous across the nation for auctioning the finest wares one could buy probably had a few shady secrets or two. This kid probably wasn’t nearly so naive as his appearance might suggest. There was something else that nagged at the back of Azami’s brain, but he couldn’t place it right now.
“Who are you?”
“What, you- oh. I’m Hakuri Sazanami. ...Heir to the Sazanami clan,” he said, though for some reason the last bit came out quite forced.
“I see. What can I help you with?” He assumed Kunishige had mentioned him at some point and that’s how he was known. “Do you want to come in? It’s a bit chilly out here,” he said. The snow piled up nearby from the recent midwinter storm made him want to shiver just looking at it, and he was wearing a heavy coat. Hakuri was probably freezing in just his fancy suit.
“No thanks, the deal should be done soon. I just need to tell you something.” Hakuri’s expression was suddenly deadly serious as he said: “Come back.”
Another thunderbolt of pain hit Azami and he collapsed to the slushy ground. Why, why -
“You’ve gotta come back, please!”
Was this kid reading his mind? Was he screaming his question? He tried to endure the pain to check if Kunishige had noticed he’d collapsed but only saw Hakuri.
This time the boy looked a bit different in his mind’s eye, though- he was wearing a hospital gown and looked too exhausted to stand. His eyes were rimmed red from crying as he talked about something gravely important while staring at the bed sheets clenched in his trembling fist.
Azami knew he needed this information and he was glad to have it; he just wished he could let the poor kid sleep first. After all he’d been through yesterday, today, and losing his sorcery on top of it - it was too much for a seasoned fighter, let alone a kid who’d just lost everything he had. But Hakuri Sazanami was made of some stern stuff, apparently. His account was a bit rambling but it was also detailed in a way that spoke to some familiarity with witnessing tragedy and violence. Spying a jagged scar that peeked out from under the gown’s collar, Azami’s heart nearly broke for him.
The world lurched when Hakuri turned his face to look at him.
“ Mr. Azami,” he said tiredly, all of his usual exuberance completely gone. “Mr. Azami, you’re not where you need to be.”
Azami was blinded with a sudden jolt of pain greater than any he’d ever known. He lost his sense of self and writhed in empty whiteness with only torment from beginning to end. This was surely Hell in its purest form: agony, and the burden of feeling .
He knew this wasn’t right.
But it was all he wanted to know.
“Hey, thanks for picking the food up! Sorry about the late call,” Kunishige said. His face drooped a bit in remorse but Azami knew better - the man had learned absolutely nothing about informing people of his needs ahead of time. He sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples while Kunishige unlocked the front door.
“If I hadn’t had a splitting headache I wouldn’t have left the office so early,” Azami grumbled. “This time was lucky, got it?”
“Yeah. Thanks. Go get comfy, I’ll fix something up!”
Azami didn’t bother asking what Kunishige was going to try and make since it probably wouldn’t resemble what it was supposed to be anyway. He kicked his shoes off instead and lugged his heavy body up the stairs to the bedroom. Sweatpants and an old long-sleeved shirt would be fine for the warm autumn evening, and some painkillers would be doubly so.
He squinted against the harsh vanity light and felt his way through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom before taking four extra-strength caplets out of the bottle. Screw his liver, he wanted this headache gone . He downed them two at a time with practised ease - office life could get surprisingly stressful and taxing on the back - and gave himself a look-over in the mirror after shutting the cabinet door. He looked better than ever, despite how he felt. The very picture of health if he didn’t have a migraine that he wouldn’t wish on anyone except a select few enemies. It was odd, but also a good thing. He wasn’t going to question not looking as rough as he was feeling.
It hadn’t taken him long to change but by the time he came downstairs again Kunishige had already set up for dinner on the back porch. They had the same mind, as usual. Azami smiled and sat down to lean against a warm, broad shoulder.
“Here.”
Kunishige passed him a warm mug of tea. Azami took a sniff and smelled hibiscus, his favourite.
“Thanks,” he said softly as he took a sip.
“Hope it helps.”
“It will. I’ll feel better soon.” The tea had no curative properties whatsoever, but Kunishige had made it for him, and that was all that mattered. “What are we having tonight?”
“A feast!” Azami winced a little and Kunishige covered his mouth. “Oops, sorry. I got all our favourites,” he said in a much quieter voice. “Here, start with the tuna roll.”
“You know me best,” Azami said with a small laugh as he accepted the take-out container and the flimsy wooden chopsticks it came with. He always started with tuna and ended with eel.
“Of course I do! We’ve been together for ages,” Kunishige said as he dug into what looked like an eel roll. He always picked one at random from start to finish.
“Mhmm. ...It’s been nice,” Azami said.
“What, you’re getting sentimental! That’s super rare! SSR Azami!”
“I’m surprised you even know that word. But yeah, I guess.” He snuggled a little closer. “Just feeling like I finally have everything I want.”
“Aside from a dog,” Kunishige reminded him. “And I kinda want an assistant.”
“If I can’t have one neither can you,” Azami teased back.
“Yes I can! I just feel like it would be a waste, y’know? I’ve gotten good enough to make a deal with the Sazanamis, but no one to pass on everything I’ve learned to.”
The mention of the famous trader clan made Azami’s headache worse for a brief moment, but it passed. He wondered what the Patriarch looked like and if he’d brought any security. Not enough to ask, though. “Maybe a kid from the village nearby would be willing to hike all the way up here to learn,” he suggested.
“Hmm. Maybe.”
Azami smiled when Kunishige’s face scrunched up as he thought about it. “Or, you know… we could adopt a kid instead of a dog.”
“WHAT?”
That successfully derailed Kunishige’s thoughts alright. Azami chuckled. “You say you want a dog, but I know you really want a kid. I saw the list of baby names you wrote the other day, and, well… I guess I wouldn’t mind keeping track of one more person.”
“Oh, uh… sorry? I think?” Kunishige flushed a bit in embarrassment and looked away. “You sure you’re up for it? I mean, I’m… not great at lots of stuff parents need to be. You know that better than anyone.”
“I think you’ll be just fine at the stuff that really matters,” Azami said as he entwined his arm around Kunishige’s. “I can handle the rest.”
“Oh! Well, then… let’s do it! Let’s get ready for a kid!”
Azami shifted just enough to see Kunishige’s smile. He was beaming brighter than the sun, the happiest a person could possibly be. Azami felt the same as the painkillers finally kicked in and his headache started to fade. This was bliss, surely.
They talked for a while about all the things they’d need to do to get ready, with Azami having to give many reality checks- no, they couldn’t just go down to town and ask for a kid; yes, they had to do a ton of paperwork before they could even be considered for adoption; yes, there was a chance they’d be denied despite how much money they made; no, “Chimine” for a boy and “Chiko” for a girl weren’t good names. But Kunishige might be on to something with the last one- Azami thought that something similar would be perfect, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
They decided to sleep on it and cleaned up while Kunishige kept up a stream of excited babble about all the things he was looking forward to about adopting a kid at last. Azami didn’t have the heart to remind him that the process could take over a year and just let himself go with the flow for once.
It was fine to feel this good, right? It’d been ages; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so full of good cheer. He’d lost so much, but life was more than constantly having to let go- and this was proof. There was always a way to make a bit of happiness.
---
I tried to stabilise it, but if those two reappear, he’ll-
Keep it going. That’s all we can do.
I can’t make it make sense from the next iteration on.
You’re doing your best, I know. Just hang in there a little longer.
Fine. Saving lives is such thankless work...
---
A loud clap of thunder jolted Azami from blissful sleep. He checked on Kunishige - still dead asleep, no surprises there - and checked the time. It was a little after 5 in the morning.
He yawned and carefully got out of bed before feeling his way to the closet. May as well get up; it wasn’t like he could get back to sleep with all that rain pounding against the windows. Wasn’t much earlier than he normally woke up anyway. The extra time would give him a little more leeway on the drive in, too. People drove like idiots in bad weather.
Azami dressed in silence then padded over to the door to Ikura’s room. It was quiet within, which meant that he was probably still asleep too. He smiled; like father, like son. They could sleep through just about anything.
He went downstairs and sniffed hopefully at the delicious scents coming from the kitchen. Hinao was making breakfast, so he gave her a wave and went to let Shiba out. The little dog looked at him reproachfully when he slid open the door to the back porch.
“Yeah, I know. He’s still sleeping so you have to deal with me. Sorry.”
Shiba the shiba inu ignored him and stepped outside to do his business. Azami left the door open and watched the rain pour down, wishing they had a doggy raincoat for days like this. But if he didn’t remember little details like wanting to buy something for the dog, then no one would. He made a mental note to write a list of things he and Kunishige had mentioned wanting knowing full well he’d forget to do it by the time he was in the office.
“Hey, sit. Paw.”
He caught Shiba on his way back in and dried the creature off as much as he could tolerate, then slid the door shut and checked on the kitchen. Hinao put down a small plate in front of him with raw eggs, a full rib-eye steak, a frog’s sticky tongue, and something that might be a rotting green vegetable. He ate it without comment since it was as excellent as ever then found himself at the door ready to go to work.
“I’m off,” he said quietly to the sleepy house.
The sky was a gorgeous kaleidoscope of colours despite the downpour, lifting his spirits a little bit. It was pretty rare to see such a spread of green, gold, and blue at this time of year; autumn usually had more brown and red in it.
He was in the office as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat of the car. He was faced by his PC and the leftover work from the day before and he sighed to himself. The screen was full of static, of course - he always had to hit the ground running. He needed to wrap this up before everyone else came in and the day started for real, so he set to reading the report his subordinate had given him right before he left last night. He waited a few seconds for the letters to swim into place so he knew who to thank - Hagiwara, right. Always dependable and to the point even if he could stand to show a bit more respect for seniority.
Apparently two prisoners had been captured last night in connection with the alarm bell noise in his head, that group they’d been chasing for ten years now. Interesting. He’d deal with that later today.
Daylight broke through the windows behind him and he was still in his car seat looking at the paper. No good, he’d wasted so much time - Azami skimmed the report and started answering emails with the bit he had left. So many stupid and impossible asks just like always. He was definitely paid the big bucks to say no in the politest and most indirect ways possible, just like Shiba always said.
The world around him shuddered. Did dogs talk?
---
I can’t hold this for much longer.
Sorry, but do whatever it takes. We’re almost there.
---
He supposed he met another person named Shiba somewhere before. The Kamunabi was a huge place, after all.
His team of corpses and dismembered invalids showed up around 9 am as usual. Hagiwara was being held by Hajime this time, his intestines dangling down to the ground and dragging along the floor. He looked awful. They all did; they were dripping blood, missing limbs, staggering in with chunks blown out of them, their faces ghastly pale and accusing. They were dead or gravely hurt and it was his fault. He should have been there with them when they fought-
Pain in his head again, knocking him into oblivion.
---
Hold steady.
I told you I can’t!
Well, find a way!
You don’t get it! He’s going to fall through!
I’m going as fast as I can so just hold on, damnit. Almost...
---
Azami woke up. He was on fire, his heart was lead. He got dressed and said good-bye to Kunishige and the shadow they called their son and took a step backwards to find himself at work. He had forgotten to eat, but that wasn’t unusual. He was always busy yet if he didn’t make food, no one did, and they all ate Shiba’s dog food until he cooked again.
Work was overwhelming as usual. He’d stayed here for Kunishige’s sake so they had eyes and ears in the Kamunabi despite secretly wanting the freedom Shiba had - it would be nice to be a dog and laze around all day. But Shiba got to quit first since he got himself into a fight with their coworkers and left before they could fire him. He bit that asshole that was always ragging on Kunishige real good before he went, though, so Azami couldn’t complain about the way he went out.
He sighed and thought back to their college-war years. Kunishige and Shiba had always been so free-spirited compared to him that he thought they’d be the ones to get together and tell him years later. But he’d won. Somehow, Kunishige had chosen boring, serious Azami to spend the rest of his life with and Shiba had become a dog.
The college-war years were rough on all of them and Azami was sure back then that none of them would ever smile again. He certainly didn’t have much occasion to when he was away from Kunishige, the man that made him believe life was worth living. This office was so soulless despite the important work he thought he was doing. If only he could be home…
He was home at last, sitting on the back porch and watching the last of the leaves fall through the ground in the late afternoon gloom. Shiba was at his side for once since he couldn’t stand the heat and noise of the forge while his preferred person was working.
They had a tacit understanding of sorts, as much as a dog and a person could anyway. Kunishige was the glue holding them together and they connected mostly over how much they loved him. So they sometimes spent time together when the loneliness away from him would be too much to bear.
It wasn’t all bad with Shiba though. They got along well enough on their own if Azami didn’t push too hard and Shiba didn’t rile him up him too much. They could even sit and contemplate things too, like right now. Friendly companionship sometimes looked like two polar opposites getting along despite it all.
Azami broke the silence first.
“I don’t hate you, you know. But you do piss me off sometimes.”
Shiba put a paw on his leg and looked up at him with soulful eyes. They seemed to be saying, “I don’t hate you either, even if you’re boring and care too much about the rules.”
“Someone has to since neither of you do. I worried after both of you back then, and now. Always.”
Shiba’s expression seemed quite sentimental for a dog. “You always worry so much but don’t bother. I don’t need the concern. ...Not as much as they did,” he might have been thinking.
“You’re right,” Azami said heavily. “I was worried about the wrong people and the wrong things… and they paid the price.”
“We both messed up,” Shiba said with a gentle bump of the nose on his arm.
“At least you visited them more than a few times a year. Showed you cared.”
Azami sighed and leaned back with his hands on the charred remains of the porch, letting ash swirl around and hopefully bury him. All his hard work and anxiety, all the nights he worked late, all the rules and regulations he’d upheld in the name of good since the war… all he had to show for doing the right thing was an empty ruined house in the mountains that belonged to a dead man and his traumatised son.
“Kunishige, Chihiro… I’m so sorry.”
The pain that struck him down was welcome this time. Azami was feeling and he shouldn’t be. He needed to be strong and follow orders like the good soldier he’d been. He could cry when he was dead alongside almost everyone he’d ever known and loved.
---
???
!
?! !!!!!!
…
No!
---
He woke up at the top of some stairs leading to a shrine. He knew this place from his youth - it was a terrible place to take a nap since it was constantly bustling with visitors and staff. Everyone around him was walking through him like he didn’t exist though. A ghost, was he? He felt unpleasant; he shouldn’t be like this. He didn’t belong with all these normal people doing normal things… he’d left that right behind deep in his past.
No, just over three years ago. When he lost the last bits of light he’d tried to cling to.
The komainu statues flanking him on either side seemed to agree while passing kindly judgment on all who passed between them. They were too radiant to look at directly so he stared blankly ahead at the crowds buzzing with happy chatter around him. He could stay here as a ghost, probably. If no one knew he was here there would be no one to kickstart his heart either.
“Mr. Azami, you’re not where you need to be,” said the black komainu suddenly, its red eyes boring deep under his skin to pierce his heart with guilt. Azami withered under its stare. He should have been a better friend-companion-lover to its maker and protected them both. Now it had a gouge cut out of its face and the craftsman who’d made it had been taken from the world before he finished his finest creation.
“Chihiro, I’m sorry… I can’t.”
“We can still do this! Come back!” The white one’s blue eyes shone dramatically as it offered words of hope. Despite its weathered appearance and many cracks and pits in the stone, it was still standing proudly. He felt ashamed in its presence. It was so resilient and here he was willfully sinking into the gaping void he had for a heart.
“I can’t. Sorry, Hakuri.”
He didn’t want to. He wanted to fade out and drop into the earth’s core to be melted into useless slag. He tried to let his ghostly presence free-fall beneath the flagstones but the statues wouldn’t let him go.
“Mr. Azami, you’re not where you need to be,” the statues intoned as one. The words resonated in him and threatened to shatter him from within. They wouldn’t break him the right way, though. He needed to be obliterated .
“I… let me go!”
“COME BACK!” they roared.
He was folded into a thousand paper cranes and set adrift on a river before it dropped him into a sea of stars as a shapeless mass of misery.
His ego, sadly, was still intact like he knew it would be, yet death was creeping in here. The universe enveloped him in a cold and uncaring embrace while he half-heartedly considered reassembling himself into something vaguely human. He wanted to let go and go back to what he knew before he was found. He was already dangerously cold though; his blood was boiling while he drifted aimlessly in this dreamy wasteland. He gasped for air that didn’t exist. He’d die here soon if he didn’t find an exit, he was certain.
That was alright. He’d wanted to do more in life, but if this was to be his end, at least it was an end to everything.
“Mr. Azami, please…”
“Mr. Azami, please!”
He twisted his consciousness around and faced the komainu statues, now looking like two boys who had been forced to mature into men too quickly. They were always going to hunt him, he realised as they trained their intense gazes on him. There was no running from the beginning and end of all things.
“Why?” he asked. The void swallowed his words but they seemed to understand.
Both of them reached out a hand and he touched his essence to theirs. He felt the warmth of their divinity drive away the bitter cold that was wrapped around him and smiled. Of course. He was an idiot, ten times more than Kunishige and Shiba were combined.
“Take me back,” he said.
Then he knew nothing.