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Long Time Coming

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For the past month the question of this day has been asked by almost everyone that was involved in the AD-9 case. He had wished that in 5 years that whole ordeal could’ve been left in the past, to vivid, too strong to ever be considered a distant memory. The death of Emi still stings his soul more than AD-9 ever did, and if Yagami was being true to himself, he could’ve just lived without everyone reminding him of it.

Not that they were reminding him out of spite; like people tended to do when Emi was killed. Likewise they didn’t remind him because he had done something right for once in his short lived career as a lawyer. People called his office asking if he could be their lawyer for their divorce hearing, to which he would promptly forward that call to Hoshino. It was annoying, like a snooze button on an alarm going off every 9 minutes. He wants to forget, but he knows he can’t. It was marked on the wall calender in his office for fucksake.

It was a complicated feeling. Wanting to forget but knowing he couldn’t even if he wanted to. It was messy and hard to think about, just like his relationship with that man. It always had been a mess, a fiery mess that couldn’t be summed up with a simple world like hate.

And when that day came, it went by like any normal day would. For once people were quiet about it, perhaps they could see the agitation on Yagami’s face. He knows what day it is. Kaito and he went about their usual work day together, scouting the hotel with Pigeon for leads on their upteenth cheating case this week.

It was well in the evening when he came home, the sun set early, feeling later than it is. Yagami felt more fatigue than he’d like to be at 6 at night, but his body can’t help it. Cold and dark, it’s only natural to find warmth and rest your eyes. The ocre light in his office flowed out the slats of his drawn down blinds, like a street light on a lone country side road. The neon lights of Kamurucho barely touched the alley way he lived in. He hadn’t heard a word from anyone all day, or at least anyone that held anymore significance than a potential client or Kaito.

He wondered if it even mattered anymore. It was 5 years, he was pushing 40 and for once in his life his brain was catching up to his body. Normally he’d be fine with staying up well into the night, but those nights were becoming far and far less frequent. Opting to turn in early, sleeping fully clothed on his beaten up couch. Some things in his routine change and others stay the same, he supposes.

It was far too quiet, and his eyes fell onto the record player, a quick solution to his mental complaint. A record was still there from the last time he had used it, and he moved the needle to the very edge of the record player and let it go on the spinning vinyl. A few pops of static accompany Yagami as he makes his way through the tight squeeze of his dresser and the couch to his tiny kitchen space before starting up.

City pop. Right, this was that record Hoshino had given him. Kid has a taste for the old, if his thing with Saori told him anything. He turns on the hot water machine and sits down at his desk. Tea and bed. God he was starting to sound like an old man.

The catchy rift of synth and the hum of his old water heater as he taps on his phone. Life could be stable.

There’s a knock on the door, almost humorously matching the beat of the bass of the song. Yagami raises a brow before looking back at his phone. His water was ready, but he figured if he was silent they would go away. It wasn’t his landlord, she would make her presence known beyond a simple knock.

It couldn’t have been Kaito. He would just walk right in.

A cilent, maybe? He would’ve gotten a text if they were coming over.

Two more knocks, quicker in succession. Yagami rolls his eyes.

“Closed today.”

Yagami was never one to turn down a client. Deep down he knew it wasn’t that, either.

Yagami’s eye twitches and he sits up from his chair, walking over to the door. It was only then he noticed how heavy his heart felt as it pounded in his chest, or the way his blood felt like ice running through his veins, gooseflesh spreading over the back of his neck.

“I never took you for someone who knocks.” Yagami says once the door is open. It’s easy for him to make his face betray what he was feeling on the inside, even when it felt like his face was under the affect of botox when he did so. It felt stiff and heavy as he looked at Hamura. “Did prison teach you manners after all?”

Hamura looked different to say the least. Yagami found it strange seeing him in something other than his usual white suit silk under shirt. He looked far more casual, like any other man you’d walk by in Kamurocho. No one would think to look twice at him. Plain white shirt and dark pants like an aging salary man.

Most of all was his hair, reduced to nothing but a buzz cut. Yagami bites his tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, say what you want.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

He steps aside, allowing a clear path into his office.

Hamura is silent as he steps in, looking around like one of the many stray cats that somehow got into Yagami’s apartment. And in a way he supposes that comparison is valid. If the law system was fair 100% of the time, Hamura wouldn’t be in front of him right now.

“Noticed some new shops open up along Nakamichi.”

Yagami raises a brow, “Oh yeah?” He walks away, back to the hot water maker. He can guess someone like him would be dying for a decent hot beverage.

“A flower shop on the second floor of Cafe Alps. A few new bars.” He trails off. All of which is correct, stores come and go in Kamurocho.

“Yet this place looks the damn same.”

Yagami’s eye twitches. Yeah, same old Hamura. Suppose that little glimpse of humanity would’ve looked more like a charade more than ever but, come on, Yagami wasn’t the shallow. He wasn’t going to write off the human condition with one dumb comment, even if Hamura didn’t deserve any of his hospitality.

“What’s the saying, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?” Yagami asks, “I only got tea.”

“Got oolong?” The fabric of the couch shifts as Hamura sits, making himself at home.

“Yeah.” Yagami figures he’ll settle for that too, while he has it out.

“Good, shit they serve in prison is basically boiled water.” He chuckles a little, “Never was much of a coffee guy anyway.”

Yagami raises his brows, “Never would’ve guessed.” He says, filling two cups with steaming water and with oolong. He sets it aside, letting it steep. The floral, almost bitter scent of the tea leaves quickly rises to tickle Yagami’s nose.

“There’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me, Tak.”

Yeah, that’s obvious, and being locked away for 5 years didn’t help. Yagami keeps that to himself though. He turns around, leaning his tailbone against the counter with his palms pressed on the surface, watching Hamura light a cigarette. Strangely enough, he had the same lighter. One of a kind zippo that could be hard to mistake for anything but something only Hamura could find appealing. He wouldn’t be surprised if those were the same cigarettes he had before he was locked away, too.

“So, no thank you for getting your sentence reduced?” Yagami talks over the click of his lightler as Hamura lights his cigarette. Hamura scoffs a little, strumming his fingers over his thigh.

“Yeah, thanks for getting me back into the big mean world, Yagami-sensei.” Hamura chuckles, writing off his very dire circumstances as a joke, drumming his palms against his thighs as his eyes dart around the room, the same way a five year old would when they entered the fancy office their parents worked at. Overwhelmed, maybe a bit nervous too. The world seems a lot bigger when a select few rooms are your entire life for a few years.

Hamura’s hands continue to patter against slacks to the tune of the song that was playing, before one goes back up to cup the cigarette between two fingers as he takes a drag. A little more peppy, contrasting the slow, almost melodramatic song about love in the glittery city or some shit.

“You know I had 5 years to think of it, but I’m gonna be honest with you, Tak. I’m fucked.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You know better than anyone else how convicted felons are treated after they get out.” Hamura’s eyes slide cooly over to Yagami, still holding that same reptile like coldness to them, “Even when they’re innocent.”

Yagami suddenly feels a little less guilty. “Well you were guilty, that’s the difference here.” Yagami looks at the cups, the water in them now a warm amber. He can see his reflection there, and focuses on that instead.

“Yeah, well aren’t I a little worse off if that’s the case?” Hamura asks quickly, voice high and manic, a grin on his face betraying the clear nervousness that had him asking such questions in the first place. He taps the ash out into the tray on the coffee table.

“Hell, a fuckin’ Smile Burger wouldn’t hire me.”

“They also want people with a good lookin’ smile there too.”

“Are you kidding? My teeth are as white as pearls since they had me brush them every damn day.” Hamura throws his head back with a laugh, from the angle Yagami was at he’s able to see the gold cap of his molar glint ever so slightly with the dim lighting.

“You working retail is a hard thing to imagine. Maybe you’d be better off as a janitor.” Yagami has his turn to laugh at the thought of Hamura mopping up the bathrooms of some fast food joint. Or even worse one of the many dance clubs that had far lower standards of bathroom cleanliness.

Hamura didn’t seem as amused, his laughter died down and replaced with a heavy silence. Yagami wasn’t completely apathetic, going from boss of an albeit tiny yakuza clan to that must be a blow to the good ‘ol self esteem.

“You got friends, right Tak?” Hamura asked, “One dude in there, really fucking likes hamburgers, he said you were the talk of the town. Everyone loves Tak. Good fighter, friendly, smart. Never knew you were so popular.”

Yagami smirks, huffing some air through his nose, “In this business a good reputation goes a long way. ”He takes the two cups of tea and walks over to the couch. He sinks down on the spot right next to Hamura, not caring about their hips brushing together. Hamura didn’t seem to mind much either, not making an effort to move away even after he took his own cup.

“We got a reputation to uphold too, don’t talk like I don’t get it.”

‘We?’ Yagami holds back the urge to ask who’s ‘We’. “The reputation a yakuza holds and a little detective like me are very different.”

The song fades to a close and Yagami continues speaking as the next one starts up slow. “You think my detective agency would still be afloat if I was known as ‘Yagami the dumb detective who’s also kinda a dick’?”

“Not that you ever had any when you’re not seen as that, right?”

Yagami rolls his eyes with a scoff, “Asshole.” He brings his lips to the rim of his cup, the warmth quickly flushing his lips to a dark pink as he drinks. Brewed strong, and still scalding hot, just the way he likes it.

“Well, you still got the place. Bet that trial really gave ya a boost, huh?”

With the cup at his lips again, the only response he could muster was an affirmative raise of his brows as he sips his tea. Without a detective the Kamuro police had to put him on pay for a little bit for cases they’d normally have Kuroiwa take care of. It didn’t last long, but they offered some jobs that had a little more meat than a missing cat. He places his cup down, “You’re having me talk about myself a lot, Hamura, that ain’t like you.”

“What, can’t be curious?”

“I didn’t think you’d be so interested in me.”

“Throw me a bone, Ta-bo. I’ve been in jail for 5 years.”

“That all it takes for me to seem like the most interesting man in the world?”

“You’re the first person I’ve seen since I got out.”

“Really? Not even Kengo was there when you got out?”

“Well… who do you think drove me here?”

“So I was right.” Yagami smirks. He hasn’t seen that boy in a while, but he supposes the loyalty between yakuza, thought defunct, lasted far longer than he ever could’ve guessed.

“Can it.” Hamura sips his tea, sighing deeply, “But if you’re so damn popular, may as well ask for a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Can you get me a job?”

Hamura spat that sentence out, wincing like he had slammed his toe against the table. Yagami hums, scratching his chin.

“Well, it won’t be easy but I think I can snag you a job wiping tables at Beef Zone.”

Hamura winces again, taping his leg nervously, “Fuck… well, whatever. I won’t be picky…”

Yagami chuckles. There’s a certain charm seeing Hamura like this. All dressed down and pathetic looking. His cheekbones stand sharper than ever, face all sunken in and tired looking. Yagami can’t say he prefers the shaven head over what he had before, long black locks slicked back and shiney with expensive hair gel that smelt of cashmere.

Yagami grabs the back of Hamura’s neck, “Grow your hair, okay?”

Hamura blinks, surprised, before grabbing Yagami by the hips, leaning closer. “I was planning to, don’t worry.” His smooths his hand over his head, chuckling thoughtfully. “Might take a while.”

“Good… you’ll look better.”

“You seem to like it just fine, Ta-bo.”

“I like your hair out better.” Yagami moves himself, planting his ass on Hamura’s thigh. 20 or 40, Yagami felt right at home there, like a cat in a box or on its masters lap. Yagami was half tempted to purr. “Grow it out for me then.”

“Self centered as always.”

“I’m finding you a job. I don’t want you bumming around my place.” Yagami’s thumb trails over his cheek. He saw color coming back to Hamura’s face and into his steel grey eyes that honest to god were sparkling having a pretty boy back on his knee. He was far more lively then when he first walked in.

He could get used to him without the hair.

“After all the dinner and night ins at fancy Love Hotels, this is the thanks I get?”

“I got you a generously reduced sentence. Don’t complain too much.”

“Hmph, fine.” Hamura leans closer, breath pulsing against Yagami’s lips. Yagami can feel his heart rate pick up to a marathon sprint as his brain goes haywire, a mix of lust and nostalgia surge through his veins. He doesn’t even need to ask when he presses his lips to Hamura’s.

Sure enough Hamura’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him closer, the drag of his thigh against Yagami’s crotch gets a light moan out of the younger man. There’s an awkwardness in the way he kisses, that’s for sure, but Yagami can excuse that. He doubts he had pleasant company in prison, and there’s an eagerness in his ministrations that Yagami can read clear as day.

Hamura nibbles on his bottom lip when he parts slightly for breath. Eyes closed, savoring the moment like a man parched for water. Yagami tilts his head, letting him feel more of him. Hamura’s tongue is quick to slip out of his mouth and bump against his bottom lip with a wet squelch of spit.

Now it’s Yagami’s turn to call him fucking eager.

That is, if his mouth wasn’t occupied. He lets his tongue slip out as well, brushing against Hamura’s. 5 years and they aren’t skipping a single beat. Yagami’s tongue swipes over Hamura, hand tightening around the nape of his neck while the other rests on the course stubble on his scalp.

“Nnn…” Yagami tilts his head the other way and presses their lips back together, doing nothing about the mess of drool that had already seepe out between their lips that shine underneath the ceiling fans light, dripping down their chins, sticky and warm. Messy wet squelches of spit mixing with the city pop that seems almost like a whisper in comparison.

Hamura leans back, cupping his cheek in his hand, tipping his head up, letting his tongue slide right into his mouth. The taste of Hamura was still so fresh on Yagami's mind, nostalgia making his heart flutter in his chest. He holds them there, huffing through his nose like a tea kettle of boiling water before parting with a huff.

And they look at each other for a few moments. Neither of them knew what the other was thinking, if they were thinking of anything at all, but there was a mutual understanding that things have changed, for better or for worse. Yagami licks the mixture of their spit off their lips before leaning down to kiss him again in place of saying actual words.

“Fuck… Hamura…” He mutters between rough kisses.

“You’re the one still on me.” He chuckles, “Didn’t know you missed me that much…”

“Shut up…” He mutters, “Don’t go ruining the moment.”

“You must’ve been lonely.” Hamura rubs his nose on Yagami’s cheek, holding him even closer. “Back on my lap like nothing had changed.”

“Yeah yeah, savor it.” Yagami snips before going in again, letting their lips suction together before parting again. His eyes closed, his voice dripped with adoration. “Such an asshole.”

Did it really take five years to forgive him?

Hamura probably never forgave himself either. Matsugane’s blood was on his hands and he knows it. He’d still be alive if it weren’t for him. Amongst all the bullshit it was easy for Yagami to forget him and Hamura both owed their lives to Matsugane.

No, Yagami never could forgive him, but he never did grow to hate him either.

Yagami parts again. His breaths shaky as he tries to take in as much as he can within short ragged inhales through his nose. His hands are trembling. He thinks of the time, and the shape of his phone in his pocket becomes a little more prominant than usual as he instinctivly goes to check the time.

“Fuck…” He mutters. Maybe his shakiness has more to do with the fact he’s been getting less and less sleep because of the very situation he’s stuck in right now. “We’ll talk more about it in the morning. Grab some good coffee, maybe?”

Hamura’s lip twitches into that half smirk Yagami recognizes so well. “Sounds good, boss.”