Chapter Text
“If that happens I can’t protect you.” – Ochi Fukuchi
Fukuchi Ouchi taps his shoe impatiently as he and Jono wait outside of the building. Fukuchi does not like waiting. He likes fast-paced moments, drinking games, and taking the piss at his friends, but he does not like waiting. Jono knows it, he’s angling his head to listen to the tapping of his boss’s shoe with rapt attention. They’ve been out here for barely ten minutes, but Fukuchi is already quite done with the day. He’s tired, hot, and sweaty, with the sun beating on his back. He wants his bed, his sake, and his comfortable chair, but the day isn’t over yet. They have one more thing that needs to be done.
Finally, the door opens with a buzzer that startles Jono but sends relief washing down Fukuchi’s spine. He immediately grabs the door and swings it open, slamming it into the opposite wall with a bang and marching into the hallway. He doesn’t wait to see if Jono is catching up with him. He doesn’t particularly care, either. Their footsteps are loud on the concrete floor and people scamper out of their way as fast as they can.
Fukuchi isn’t sure if it’s because of his demanding presence, or the thundercloud on his face. It could be both, but again, he doesn’t care. As long as nobody gets underfoot he will not pay attention to them in the slightest. They’re not of interest to him. Nobody is but her. They walk further into the building and it gets darker by the second, weak lamps illuminating the hallways and guards at every door, left and right. Slits in the doors reveal the sounds of begging prisoners and screaming men. Someone is crying.
Eventually, they come to a door that is heavily guarded and one of the guards demands their identification. Fukuchi gives the man his and Jono does as well. They receive them back and get clearance to enter the room. Fukuchi can barely contain his excitement, but he has to play it cool. He has to fool all of these people here, after all.
They make their way through more tightly guarded hallways and eventually come to a stop outside of a small office. A guard opens the door for them and Fukuchi tells Jono to wait outside as he goes in. The white-haired man nods and leans against the opposite wall as his boss enters the office. The room is sparsely decorated. There is a dark oak wood desk, backlit by a window that looks out over the facility behind the building. Before it stand two rigid chairs and in the corner is one plant, sadly drooping to one side. The walls are gray and there isn’t a single picture frame in sight.
There’s a woman behind the desk. Her stature is strong and she sits upright, reading some documents with a red stamp on them. She motions her hand to one of the chairs and Fukuchi takes his seat in it. It takes several more moments before the woman looks up. She regards him with icy blue eyes and they shift over his body, examining him. Her blonde hair is done up in a neat bun and she tugs on the bottom of her jacket to straighten it before laying down the documents. She folds her hands on the desk and clears her throat.
“You’ve come with a request, I suppose?” she asks softly.
Her voice echoes, the limited amount of furniture doing nothing to dampen the sound. She doesn’t speak loudly, but it is as if she is sitting right next to him. Fukuchi nods. She knows why he has come and is just conversing politely before getting to the topic. She sighs, clearly sensing his need for urgency.
“Your asked permission for her release has yet to be granted, but I think it’ll go through,” she says, picking up another document and sliding it toward him. “I’m not sure what you want her for, but you know she’s dangerous, right?”
Fukuchi nods and grabs the document, gazing at the words and the picture of the woman he is here to retrieve. The process takes such a long time and he doesn’t nearly have enough of it. There are only a few more days before he has to make an appearance and he can’t be here anymore. He needs to do this now or he’ll have to fly all the way back for only this. That won’t do, no matter which way he looks at it. It would be such a drag.
“She’ll be at my disposal?” he asks curiously, flipping the document to read the other side.
The woman nods, “Yes. She’ll be outfitted with a nanite bomb in her neck. It’ll explode on your orders whenever you want. When you press the activation button, it doesn’t matter where you are or where she is. The signal will be received and her head will be blown off.”
Fukuchi hides a smile. This is perfect for his plans. If that’s the case, he can take total control of her, and she won’t be able to resist him no matter what he asks of her. His goals will be achieved in no time at all. He’s greatly looking forward to it, though he won’t tell anyone. It’ll be his little secret.
“Good,” he says instead. “Can I take her with me right now or is there still something else I need to wait for? I need to catch a flight back to Japan in a few days.”
The woman hums and messes around on her desk, looking at some more papers in silence for a few minutes before she is ready to answer him. Fukuchi is patient as she works and fiddles with the corner of the page he has, making a dog ear on it. His nails scratch the paper, the feeling unpleasant but the sound so satisfying.
“You can take her,” the woman says eventually, gazing at the with those blue eyes that seem to penetrate all the way to his core. “I’ll clear it with the higher-ups.”
Fukuchi nods, “Thank you.”
He stands and takes his leave, greeting Jono happily and announcing that their plans can now move forward. They make their way to the Gifted cells and a guard lets them into the block. Another guard leads them to the right cell and opens it for them, letting Fukuchi and Jono in slowly and carefully. Fukuchi has to say, the security is very tight. But that might be a good thing. There are some pretty dangerous Gifted in this prison, after all.
In the back of the small cell they enter sits a woman. She’s wearing a straight jacket and has a blindfold over her eyes. Her hair is long and brown, tangled and gross from sweat and grease. She tilts her head when they enter and a manic grin comes over her face. Her nose seems to have been broken in the past, with the way it’s crookedly shaped. Fukuchi doesn’t care. He pulls up the only chair in the cell and sits on it, clearing his throat.
“I’m here to offer you a job,” he says bluntly.
“A job?” the woman repeats, still grinning. “And what might you be able to offer me, Mr Government?”
“Freedom,” Fukuchi states. “And employment. Though your freedom will be somewhat limited since you are considered a dangerous criminal.”
The woman tilts her head curiously. She is silent for a long moment. Perhaps she’s trying to gauge who he is or what he does for a living, but she’ll never truly know. Most of what he is, isn’t even the real him. Real Fukuchi Ochi has been hidden under layers of lies and deceit.
“What kind of a job?” she eventually asks.
Fukuchi knows he has her interest now. All he needs is a hook and she’ll fall for his bait if he plays his cards right. He needs to think carefully about this. He needs to play it right. He needs this woman on his team. She’ll be invaluable for his plans.
“I heard you were familiar with the Detective Agency?” Fukuchi asks quietly, just to see her reaction.
He certainly gets something worth his time. She grits her teeth and her whole body tenses, pure rage radiating from her body in waves. Jono takes a step back in surprise, probably feeling the change in the atmosphere just from her anger alone. Fukuchi is impressed. This woman possesses a great amount of hatred and she let it out at the name alone. He smiles.
“What about them?” she asks growlingly.
“I’m trying to bring them down. They’re criminals, you see,” he answers.
“And pigs can fly,” the woman responds with a sneer. “Don’t lie, I’ll know when you lie. The Detective Agency aren’t criminals and you know it. You’re just out for revenge…”
Something clicks in her words and she stills, a slow smile coming over her face in mere seconds. She tilts her head the other way, letting her long hair fall over her other shoulder. She obscures part of her face, grinning madly as she mulls over some information in her mind. She’s figuring something out. Fukuchi can see it.
“You’re out for revenge,” she repeats. “And you want my help, because you know I tried to bring them down.”
Fukuchi nods, though she can’t see it. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to see his approval because her face lights up and she cackles into the empty air. She taps her feet happily on the floor, her bare skin slapping the concrete in her glee. She looks insane, but Fukuchi doesn’t care. She’s useful, and that’s the only reason he needs her.
“I’m in as long as you give me him,” she declares easily.
“Done,” Fukuchi says, standing up. “Jono, untie her. We’re leaving.”
Jono nods and moves forward as Fukuchi makes his way out of the cell. He knows she already has the bomb in her neck so she won’t try to run away when they get outside. He leaves Jono to his own devices for a few moments and moves toward the room where they stash the prisoners’ personal possessions. He retrieves her bucket with stuff and finds her and Jono at the gate door that leads to the hallways outside.
Her straight jacket is off and she’s trying to untangle her hair, dark, deep brown eyes regarding him flatly as he comes closer. He hands her the bucket silently and she looks inside, lighting up when she finds a red shirt and a pair of jeans. She quickly puts them on and slips into the loafers that were also inside the bucket.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Come on,” Fukuchi responds, grabbing her bicep.
He walks to the gate and shows his ID to the guard, who lets him out. He has the woman’s arm in his grip so she comes easily and without protest. Jono follows in silence, his quiet footsteps almost non-existent behind them. When they get outside, he releases her and she spreads her arms, taking a deep breath and smiling brightly.
“I haven’t felt the sun on my skin in too long,” she mumbles. “This feels good.”
“Come along,” Fukuchi says, moving to the car.
Jono is already in the passenger’s seat and though Fukuchi hates to drive, the woman doesn’t know where they are going, so he’ll have to. She reluctantly follows, flipping her tangled brown hair over her shoulder with a pout on her face. She gets in the car, crosses her legs, and stares out the window as they drive away. The ride is mostly silent, and she doesn’t question where they are going. She doesn’t even ask exactly who they are or what they want from her. Fukuchi thinks she already knows most of it. She’s a smart woman.
“You’re with the Government,” she says eventually, after an hour of silence.
“Yes,” he replies.
“But not really,” she quips, a grin on her face as she stares out the window. “You’re in your own little league of players, mastering the world from the shadows, trying to gain more power for your own satisfaction. I like you. Your play is exciting.”
“Why’s that?” he asks curiously.
Fukuchi doesn’t truly care what she thinks of his plans or what she wants. He just needs her powers and her control. She is smart and capable of many things. He read up on her. She’s Gifted with some amazing abilities and there was no way Fukuchi was just going to let her rot in some cell when her powers could be used for his goals.
“You play a dangerous game, which makes it exciting,” she begins. “I like dangerous games. I tried one. I didn’t succeed. I think you know that, which is why you want me. You want me to finish my game and incorporate it into yours, to complete your schemes. You don’t want me, you want my powers,” she says, still grinning. “But my powers are mine, which is why you need me. Power and strength are not the same, and a mind alone isn’t strong enough to carry the will of its owner. You need influence.”
She leans forward in her seat, her breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. Fukuchi doesn’t flinch when her hand lands on his shoulder and he doesn’t move to look at her. Jono twitches in his seat, his head tilting to pick up her voice when she whispers.
“I like you,” she says. “Let me play this game with you,” she adds.
“I already acquired you,” Fukuchi states.
She grins. It’s not the same. He knows this. He has her in his possession, they both know that. But she’s not truly his to play with. She can just walk out on him and he can blow off her head, and she’ll be useless. It’ll be better if she decided to play along. Which is a thing she wants. She wants to be part of this. The scheme, the plan, the terror, and the tragedy. She wants all of it. He can see it in the mirror when he looks at her face.
“You have me, yes,” she says, playing with his hair. “But I have you. ”
Silently, he curses. She’s right. He can’t deny that. She has him. From the first moment he looked at her, she has had him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe she did something to him that his Ability did not warn him about. Maybe she stole an ability from someone else and used it on him. Who knows. He certainly doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter, as long as she plays along with his plan, then everything will work out just fine.
She can do as she likes when the plan is completed.
Her fingers run through his hair and her long nails scratch at his scalp. Fukuchi focuses on the road, but her fingers are in his hair like hot, molten iron on his skin. He shivers, his heartbeat going faster. Jono stiffens in his seat, sweat starting to gather on his forehead. The situation must be plenty awkward for him.
There’s something in the air. And something in his head clicks. Fukuchi rolls his eyes. Of course, this would be it. She stole someone’s ability, he knows for certain now. He doesn’t know which or what it does. He doesn’t even know its name, but it doesn’t matter.
“You’re bewitching us,” he says softly.
“Not intentionally,” she replies, leaning back and letting go of him.
He breathes a sigh in relief. It’s a breath he didn’t want to release, but it is there and he can’t do anything about it. Strange, really, how she has affected him so. And how he didn’t really mind. Jono relaxes in his seat and Fukuchi glances at him. He was very unsettled. Something was wrong and now it is less wrong, but not yet right.
“What did you do?” he asks, curious.
“I have an ability that can control my pheromones. I release them unconsciously when I’m in the presence of someone I like. It causes them to like me, and I can control them to a certain degree,” she explains, looking at her nails. “But I don’t intend to control you,” she says, looking up with hooded eyes. “I want you to control me instead.”
The grin on her face is positively lecherous and Fukuchi can’t say he hates that look. He’s never been one to follow his bodily desires, but she might make that difficult. Strange. Very strange indeed. Jono has all but stiffened in his seat again and Fukuchi clears his throat, focusing on the road ahead.
He doesn’t answer her, nor does he say anything else for the remainder of the trip. She doesn’t seem to mind, sitting happily and staring out the window with a smile on her face. She enjoys teasing them, or so it seems. He’ll have to keep an eye on her. She’s a peculiar one, this woman. And dangerous, he realizes. Very, very dangerous.
Around late midday, they arrive at their destination. The Hunting Dogs’ temporary headquarters. Jono opens the door for the woman and Fukuchi leads the way inside. They make their way to his office and he plops down in his chair. She looks around, curious but not overly so.
“You can take any of the empty quarters,” he says to her. “Just don’t leave the building without one of us or I’ll have to consider it deserting your post and I’ll blow your head off.”
She nods, a smile on her face. Fukuchi organizes a stack of papers on his desk and she meanders toward him. She leans over the desk suggestively and Fukuchi lifts a brow. She pouts but doesn’t move to stand back up.
“Jono,” Fukuchi says when she blinks at him. “Leave us.”
Jono nods his head, reluctantly takes one blind glance at them both, and then leaves the room quickly. He closes the door behind him and the woman leans back up, smirking. She sits down on the desk and swings her legs over it, encasing him between her. She leans her elbows on her thighs and stares into his eyes.
“You’re an interesting man,” she says. “You must have something planned. Tell me.”
“No,” he says.
She pouts, “Come on.”
“No.”
He fixes another stack of papers and ignores her, moving around her to get his job done. He doesn’t like paperwork but sometimes needs must be met, so he has to do it. He places the paper between her legs and begins writing, unperturbed. She looks down at him with her brown eyes and gazes at him fondly. He doesn’t understand why she likes him so much after she has just met him, but he doesn’t care enough to ask.
“You’ll let me have him?” she asks curiously after a while.
“Whatever, I don’t care about one little detective. Least of all him. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Fukuzawa’s brat,” Fukuchi mumbles, signing his name at the bottom of the page.
“Harsh,” she says with a grin. “Then he’s mine to do with as I please. I can take advantage of him, for you. I can bring down the Agency using him, and only him.”
It’s a plan. It’s not his plan, but it is a plan. He contemplates it but knows the cogs are already working and he can’t stop them now. She can have the boy, but she can’t use him to bring down the Agency, that’ll be his task. Not hers. So, he shakes his head, and she pouts again.
“Then tell me what your plan is. I’m dying to know,” she says and flings her legs over his head, scooting forward until she drops into his lap.
He doesn’t move to throw her off and she seems to take it as a victory, latching onto his strong arms as he continues writing. She watches him work for another moment and keeps her silence. He doesn’t know what she is thinking, but he can practically hear the cogs in her head turning.
“You want to bring them down, but not only them,” she says quietly. “There is something bigger here, but I don’t know what. Perhaps it has nothing to do with me. I’m not particularly interested as long as I can bring despair to him and his friends.”
“You’re just out for petty revenge,” he says. “Your lover died, so you want them to suffer as you did.”
“Perhaps,” she says. “But I like my toys broken.”
Fukuchi looks down at her. She has a pretty face; heart-shaped with rosy cheeks and full lips. Her hair would be beautiful if it weren’t so tangled and gross, and her brown eyes are pools men can lose themselves in. He’s not certain she only had one lover.
“How broken?” he asks curiously; he can’t help it.
She grins, leaning in to peck him on his scarred cheek. He wouldn’t take this treatment from anyone, but he can’t defy her. She’s charmed him. And he needs her, so there’s that. Before he can say anything about her actions, she jumps from his lap and saunters to the door with a sway to her hips that has his eyes locked onto her body.
Damn, he thinks, she’s good.
When she gets to the door, she places her hand on it and opens it a little. Then she turns back to face him, smiling blindingly brightly. There is disgust behind her eyes and sheer cruelness in her smile. Her whole body exudes wrongness, and he’s entranced. He can’t look away. Her grin becomes wider.
“I like them shattered.”