Kenji doesn't remember a lot of things from his childhood. Ihatov wasn't too far from Yokohama, so he couldvisit if he wanted, perhaps on the weekends, and yet the thought of going home brought pinpricks and goosebumps to his skin.
Kenji doesn't remember a lot, but he does remember his friend.
He can't remember a name, or how old they were when they met. Just the dark hair and bright blue eyes that would greet him in the late morning as he worked in his family's field.
"Kenji!" His friend would shout, "Good morning!"
And Kenji would shout back, "Good morning!"
His friend would sit on the fence at the top of the dirt bank and talk to him while he worked.p About his day, about the latest comic book he'd managed to get his hands on from his father's most recent trip to the city, about the fight he'd had with his sister that morning. Anything and everything he could think of, he told Kenji about.
When the afternoon would arrive, they'd hurry off to eat lunch together in the meadow at the base of Mount Kurakake, stumbling around and tackling one another playfully into the long grass and lazing in the shade of the trees until the hour was up, and Kenji had to go back to the fields.
His friend would follow him back, and stay on the fence, smiling and laughing with Kenji until the sun came down and they parted ways for the day, bidding eachother a good evening.
And Kenji would go home and eat dinner alone. Then he'd lay staring up at the ceiling on his futon for hours, a dopey grin on his face and a happy flush to his cheeks as he thought of what his friend would have to share come the 'morrow.
And then, the next day, the cycle would start all over again.
Things only ever changed on Sundays.
On Sundays, Kenji wouldn't see his friend until the sun was already half-set and most of his work done. His friend would come down the dirt path in a fancy shirt that was always half unbuttoned, and nice-fitting trousers, and dress shoes that he shuffled his feet in awkwardly. On Sundays, his friend was quieter, more reserved, and seemed tired.
"▇▇▇, where do you go on Sunday?" A ten year old Kenji asks as the two sit on the bank watching the sun fully nestle itself between the mountains.
"I go to Church." ▇▇▇ says. "Everyone goes with their families. Maybe that's why you don't go."
And Kenji hurts. He frowns and he hurts and his grip on the blades beneath him becomes so tight that the dirt cracks and the grass in his fist tears into shreds and the tree root he's leaning on splinters. ▇▇▇ jumps at the noise and turns to look at Kenji, and sees the angry tears in his eyes and his quivering lip.
And ▇▇▇ hugs him tightly, uncaring of the dirt and mud that he's getting on his nice, fancy clothes or the straw that blends into Kenji's blonde hair easily but sticks out like a sore thumb in his own dark hair.
"I'm sorry," ▇▇▇ whispers, "I didn't mean it."
And Kenji's heartbeat flutters as he sniffles and buries his face in ▇▇▇'s shoulder.
"It's very boring in Church." ▇▇▇ tells him once he's calmed down. "They talk about God and make us sing and tell us that if we sin we go to a horrible place full of fire and pain. I don't like going one bit. They tell us stupid, dumb rules that we're meant to follow, like they if a boy likes a boy, he'll get out in that horrible place."
▇▇▇ shrivels up his little nose and Kenji tilts his head.
"But I like you."
"No, silly. 'Like', like a momma likes a dada. Like, a boy wanting to hold hands and kiss another boy."
"Why's it bad?" Kenji asks, his heart tight.
▇▇▇ shrugs, "I don't know. They say that God doesn't like it, and it makes you a 'sinner'."
And Kenji feels guilt settle in his gut, but he doesn't really understand why.
Months later, bad storms start to make their way through Ihatov.
And as they get worse, and lightning sets fire to the trees and mud and rocks slide down the mountains towards the village, and people scream and sob and beg for God to save them, Kenji's chest aches.
And then he finds his friend's body, smushed like a little bug.
There's fire and pain and death and he, the sinner, is the only one not screaming. And maybe this is that Hell that ▇▇▇ told him about.
And Kenji thinks that maybe God is punishing him
That's the last thing he remembers before everything goes black and he wakes up the next day.
His friend is still gone, squished like a bug, but the village is fine.
And Kenji feels his stomach pang with hunger.
The first time it happens, Kenji thinks it could be coincidence. Him and Atsushi sitting in the corner booth of the café in silence at three o'clock on a Sunday. The café's empty except for them and Lucy, who's in the kitchen cleaning.
Kenji knows that it's quiet in the café at this time because the people who would ordinarily be here are at Church.
Atsushi slips into the booth silently, holding a bottle of water out to Kenji as he sips one of his own. Kenji takes it, thinking that his eyes must be as puffy and red as Atsushi's look.
They sit in silence until Lucy's shift ends at five, bid her goodbye and head back up to the Agency to help pack things up for the day.
The next Sunday, the same thing happens.
And the next, and the next, and the next.
Kenji stops counting after a while, because it became a sure part of his week. Every Sunday, he and Atsushi sit in silent understanding of one another in the café. Atsushi brings water for them to soothe the headaches that pound behind their eyes after crying, and Kenji brings little biscuits and treats he likes that he thinks Atsushi will enjoy, too. Without fail, every week, they both reach under their shirts and pull out little chain necklaces. Kenji's is made of copper and a little wonky, while Atsushi's is silver and straight as a ruler. They put the necklaces in the unused cigarette tray on the table and sit together silently for two or so hours, then go back to the office with their necklaces shoved in their pockets, like nothing happened.
And one day, Atsushi breaks their routine.
It's not that he doesn't show up, because he does. They sit down and drink their water and put the necklaces in the empty ash tray and stare at the wood grain of the table beneath their shaking hands as they compose themselves slowly.
After maybe ten minutes pass, Atsushi speaks up.
"Uhm," he says slowly, his voice still a little hoarse, "Kenji, can I show you something?"
Kenji lifts his head, surprised momentarily by the break in routine, but he nods anyway.
Atsushi takes a quick glance around the café (even though they both know it's empty aside from Lucy, who made a habit of doing dishes with her music playing at this time weekly) and begins to unbutton his shirt, going about a third of the way down. He pulls the fabric to the side, tilting his head back to expose the spot between his neck and his shoulder that's normally hidden beneath his collar.
There's an intricate looking burn scar there, looking more like two overlapping scars than one big one. Each scar is precise, long and straight, with one horizontal and the other-
And the other making it match his necklace...
Oh.
Kenji leans forward, left hand on the table to support the shift of weight and right hand raised to touch the scar. He hesitates, and Atsushi smiles.
"It's okay," he assured, "my Ability healed the actual wound over time, so it doesn't hurt. But the scar tissue never went away."
Kenji carefully presses his thumb against the skin and, once he sees that Atsushi doesn't take any sharp intake of breath or stiffen or jerk away, he ghosts his fingers over the scarred skin in awe. It feels strange, and nothing like his own scars. Kenji doesn't know if that's because of Byakkou, or because it's a burn.
He leans back in his seat, looking down at his hand in awe as if he can still feel the interesting texture of Atsushi's scar even though the boy is already fixing his shirt.
Kenji slides out of the booth, takes one of his sandals off and puts his foot on the seat carefully.
"K-Kenji?" Atsushi stammers, surprised.
Kenji doesn't say anything, just rolls up his overalls as high as they'll go. Atsushi's breath hitches a little, not quite a gasp but certainly something.
Dozens of subtle little white lines that start just about at Kenji's calf. Each scar is made of two lines, just like Atsushi's.
"I... Used to think that God was angry at me." Kenji brushes his fingers over his tanned skin, brown eyes pinned on the scattered freckles between the scars. "So I put His symbol all over my legs and my stomach to try and make Him happy with me. I don't know if it worked, or if He was every really angry, but..."
Kenji trailed off and gave a small shrug. He pulled the jean material back down to his calf and slipped his sandal back onto his foot before shuffling back into his seat.
"You don't... You don't do that anymore, right, Kenji?" Atsushi asks slowly, like he's struggling to force the words past his lips. Like he's afraid of the answer he'll get.
But Kenji shakes his head.
"No, 'cause then I met Ranpo and Yosano and Kunikida and the President and Junichirou and Naomi. And they made me happy so I thought that if God was angry at me before, He's not anymore, so there's no need."
Atsushi sighs, relieved, and nods knowingly.
"I get that. My orphanage was pretty religious, and they always made us children sit on the floor and pray for good fortune. But I wasn't very good at sitting still for long periods of time, and the staff took it as blasphemy. They burned me over and over to make the scarring stay in the shape of a cross. And when they'd lock me back up in the cage, I'd sit there and think 'Why should I pray to God if He's just gonna torture me?'." The silver haired boy smiled sadly, "A part of me wonders if I might've grown to be religious if I hadn't been forced. Now, I mostly just keep the cross because it reminds me of when things were simpler. Sure, they were bad times, but back then I didn't have to worry about a lot of the stuff I have to worry about now."
Kenji nods knowingly.
"I know Kunikida already told you-" Atsushi grimaces, a guilty looking expression settling over his face, "-but I had a friend, back in my village. We were really close, but he died during a storm. I don't remember anything after I found his body, to be honest. But I think, looking back on it... I think I loved him. Loved him like-like how a momma loves a dada. Loved him like I wanted to hold his hand and kiss him. But I didn't understand that until he was already gone, and I still don't understand if..."
Kenji's voice cracks, and he drops his head so his quivering lip and unshed tears aren't on display. Because Atsushi won't hug him in the way his friend did - he might hold him tight to his chest and stroke his dirty hair and let him cry into his pristine, white shirt just the same, but Kenji's heart wouldn't hammer in his chest as he sniffles and sobs against his shoulder like it had for his friend.
"I don't know if makes me a bad person for liking him like that.." He finishes quietly.
There was some quiet shuffling, and the booth creaks as Atsushi slides in next to him and wraps his arms around Kenji's shoulders. Kenji presses his forehead against the cool fabric of Atsushi's shirt, and squeezes his eyes shut tightly.
"You're not a bad person, Kenji. You're so, so good. And if there is a God, then He doesn't hate you for who you love, okay?" The older boy assures, his fingers trailing through Kenji's hair comfortingly.
Kenji sniffles, burying his face further into Atsushi's chest.
After a few minutes, Kenji pulls away from Atsushi, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles.
"Sorry, I made your shirt all gross." He murmurs.
Atsushi just smiles sweetly, "Don't worry about it, Kenji. How about you head home for the day? I don't think you're in a good place mentally to work right now. I'll tell Kunikida that you didn't feel well."
"Isn't that lying?" Kenji frowns, "I'm not sick."
"No, you're not sick physically, but you're upset, right? It took me a while to learn this for myself, but you should take mental illness just as seriously as physical illness, okay? Go and take a nap, or go for a walk. Treat yourself to a meal you've not had in a while - whatever you think will help you feel better." Atsushi insists.
Kenji nods slowly. A second later, he spots Lucy poke her head out from the kitchen, and he waves to her with a small smile. Atsushi turns around at the action, matching Kenji's wave.
Lucy steps out of the kitchen fully, moving her headphones so they hung around her neck, still with the quiet hum of some American song playing.
"Sorry, I was just seeing if you guys were okay. I didn't hear anything, promise."
Atsushi smiles at her, sliding off the bench with Kenji following after him.
"Don't worry about it, Lucy." He assures, "Kenji's gonna head home now - today's been rough."
Lucy nods. She looks down at the smaller boy and tilts her head. Kenji ducks his head, trying to hide his face. His cheeks were probably tear-streaked and his under eyes red and puffy.
"Chocolate or strawberry?" Lucy asked out of nowhere. Atsushi nudged Kenji with his elbow to get him to look up.
"Huh?" Kenji blinked, confused.
Lucy had made her way over to the small fridge behind the bar-like front of the café. She turned around, showing two cartons of what looked like milkshake - one brown and white, and the other pink and yellow.
"Chocolate or strawberry?" She repeated patiently. "Sugar always makes me feel better on a bad day. I'd make you cinnamon milk, but it's too hot for something warm. Ergo, milkshake. Which do you want?"
"O-Oh! Uhm- Strawberry, please?" Kenji squeaked.
Lucy tucked the brown bottle back onto its shelf and shut the fridge. She grabbed a red and white stripes straw and handed the two items over to Kenji, smiling down at him.
"Feel better soon." Was all she said, before she turned around and picked up her cleaning rag to start wiping everything down for the day.
Kenji nodded and smiled shyly back at her before walking towards the door.
He goes home and sleeps for the rest of the day, and wakes up shockingly refreshed the next morning, only he's an hour late to work already and, oh, gosh, Kunikida is going to murder him. He stumbles around with sleep still in his eyes, still pulling his shirt on as he all but falls out of his dorm. His overalls were still forgotten on his bed, so he's still in the basketball shorts that he usually wears to bed when he bursts through the café's door, calling a quick greeting to Lucy as he runs by while trying to smooth out his hair somewhat with his fingers, and bolting into the stairwell to get up to the Agency's floor before she can even look up from the glass she's filling with lemonade. He thinks he might've heard her laugh before the door swings shut, but trying to focus on anything other than running up the stairs as fast as physically possible makes him almost face plant.
He's panting heavily and wheezing when he finally makes it to the door, half-bent over and hands on his knees as he desperately tries to catch his breath. The door creaks as it opens, and Kenji looks up to see Atsushi looking down at him with a surprised look on his face.
"Oh! Kenji! Good morning. Ah, you're not wearing your overalls today?" He tilts his head.
Kenji stands upright, smiling at Atsushi as best he can while he's still panting like crazy.
"G-Good morning, Atsushi! I realised I was super late so I didn't have time to grab them." He explained, "I think I have a spare pair in my locker, so I'll just grab those if Kunikida doesn't get ahold of me first."
Atsushi laughed softly, stepping out fully from behind the door. Kenji blinked, looking down at Atsushi's shirt. There were two pins clipped onto the fabric, one white with black text that Kenji's still somehow half-asleep brain wasn't registering yet, and the other striped with three colours. He blinked harshly a few times until the sleep in his eyes was gone and he could read the words. 'He/Him'.
"What are those?" Kenji asked, pointing to the badges.
"Oh, well, I realised it's June, so I thought I'd wear my pins." Atsushi said plainly.
"Pins?" Kenji echoed.
"They're pride pins. Well, this one's just my pronouns-" Atsushi gestured to the white pin, "-but the other one's my pride flag, 'cause I'm bisexual."
Kenji looked up at Atsushi, surprise written on his face. Then, a look of horror settled over his features.
"O-Oh my gosh, did I upset you yesterday with what I said? I'm really sorry- I didn't meant imply that-"
"Kenji! It's okay! I know that's not what you meant at all. Especially since you didn't know," Atsushi assured, planting his hands on Kenji's shoulders, "I did decide to suggest this because of our conversation, but not because I was upset. I thought it would be nice for you to know that you're not alone."
"Suggest?"
Atsushi's smile widened.
"Why don't you come and see for yourself?"
With that, Atsushi's hands trailed down Kenji's arms to hold his wrists and pulled him inside the office.
"Kunukidaaaaa!" Dazai whined from where he was moping at a desk that was most definitely not his own, a sticker matching Atsushi's pin on his coat's collar, "Why can't I have a pin?!"
"Because you'd find some way to try and kill yourself with it." Kunikida huffed, straightening his own pin - this one white, purple and grey with a black triangle on the side.
"Uwaaa... You know me so well, Kunikida! I'm honoured! Won't you commit double suicide with me?!" Dazai gasped.
"Absolutely not!"
Yosano walked past Kenji and Atsushi with Kyouka behind her, both of them carrying boxes with medical supplies. Yosano also had a sticker instead of a pin, though Kenji assumed that was just so she could stick it on the butterfly clip it was currently residing on. The different shades of oranges and pinks looked nice against her dark hair, Kenji thought.
"Morning, Kenji. Sleep well? Don't be afraid to stop by if you need a checkup." Yosano called as she walked past.
"Oh- yes, doctor!" Kenji returned quickly.
"Morning." Kyouka nodded at him from behind the boxes that were probably taller than her. Kenji noticed that her usual hair ties were absent and replaced with orange, white and blue ribbons.
"G-Good morning, Kyouka!"
"Oi, Kenji, Atsushi! Move!"
Kenji jumped a little, turning around to find Ranpo standing behind him in the doorway with a shopping bag in his hand and a pout on his lips. He was the first person, besides Atsushi, who he'd seen wearing a pronoun pin, the words 'He/They' engraved on it. His flag pin was similar to Yosano's, but made up of greens and blues instead.
"Oh, sorry, Ranpo! I didn't realise you were back already!" Atsushi yelped, matching Kenji's steps back from the door.
Ranpo walked in after them, with Tanizaki on his tail. The redhead smiled at Kenji and gave a friendly wave, his own flag made of pink, white and blue stripes.
"Morning, Kenji." He greeted.
"Hey," Kenji blinked up at Atsushi, "What is all this?"
"Well, it's Pride Month, and I realised yesterday that you kind of don't have any reference to realise that it's okay to not be one hundred percent straight, so I suggested that we could all wear whatever pride flag is ours so you can see that you're not alone." Atsushi explained. He giggled as he watched Tanizaki try and help Ranpo climb onto his shoulders to put up the rainbow bunting they'd apparently bought while out.
"Oh! I don't really know what any of them mean, but I appreciate it a lot!" Kenji smiled widely.
"I'm sure we can explain it to you, if you'd like?" Atsushi offers.
Kenji's smile widened, and he nodded enthusiastically.
And, if about two hours later, Kenji was walking around the Agency proudly with a pin that matched Kunikida's aside from it's differing green stripe, and excitedly telling Kyouka all the things he'd learned that day, well, that was nobody's business but the Agency's.
