Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Junko struggled against the binds that were holding her down. Holding her wrists behind her back and holding her legs together. One would think she was used to being in this sort of position, but she usually had a way out.

Someone approached her, and she glared up at them. A blurry face, she couldn't tell who they were. They gripped her braid, pulling it taut and Junko refused to scream at the pain. It was expected, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

She bit into the gag ferociously and snarled up at her captor.

A flash of a knife, usually so comforting, but in this situation, it was only chilling. It was in the hand of her captor, and Junko prepared herself for pain–

It cut through her hair, sharp and strong, and the tension suddenly not being there made Junko's head snap forward. 

Her hair had been cut. It was shorn off. Junko curled her legs up, trying to comfort herself.

She breathed through her nose, before pondering her feelings. She wasn't actually quite upset about this. It was quite fine actually. It was simply hair, and it would grow back. But maybe it was better to have shorter hair? It would make it easier in the future, running away from the police and blending in with a crowd.

Short hair wasn't a problem, and it was going to grow back surely.

Junko didn't know how long she sat there, but Mitsuhiko was there, all of the sudden, crouching in front of her and eyeing her hair. He looked around, searching for the man that had cut her hair. But Junko was fine with the hair now, she was alright with short hair, despite society saying she needed long hair to be a proper lady.

Mitsuhiko worked the gag out of her mouth, muttering and promising to find the guy who cut her hair, but Junko shook her head. 

“Where's Giichi?” Junko asked, coughing slightly. They hadn't given her any water during her oh so lovely stay here.

“Taking care of things.” Mitsuhiko said tightly. He must be rather upset. Junko didn't mean to get caught, so he must be pissed off.

“Sorry.” She muttered, lowering her head. She couldn't hide behind her hair now, but she found herself not minding.

“It's not your fault.” Mitsuhiko sighed, and Giichi appeared in the corner of the Junko's view. Giichi glared at the hair, but sighed and pressed a hand on Junko’s shoulder.

“It'll grow back.”

“I–” Junko started to say something but closed her mouth. 

Giichi raised his eyebrow, prompting Junko to continue.

“I think I like it short.”

Mitsuhiko’s eyebrows raised in surprise. It was unbecoming of a lady to wear short hair after all, and Junko was a proper lady after all. The being a criminal notwithstanding.

“Later. We'll talk it out later.” Giichi said, picking Junko up from under her arms and setting her on her feet.

Junko stumbled but kept up during the run, her skirt swishing around her legs and making run slightly more difficult.

“Think I can get some pants too?”

Giichi turned back to look at her, eyes blinking in confusion as he continued to run forward easily.

“It's hard to run in a skirt. You try it.” Junko huffed.

“Sure.” Mitsuhiko shrugged, not turning around as he drew his gun as he heard some noise ahead. “You're Junko despite what you wear after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jun’ichirō shot upright, eyes blinking a few times as he tried to focus on where he was. He reached up and scrubbed at them, chest heaving as if he had been running.

“Another dream. . .” He muttered, his hand reaching up and tugging on his short ginger locks.

Stuff like this had been happening since before Jun’ichirō could remember. The dreams didn't come often, and sometimes Jun'ichirō was a woman, sometimes he was a man. Sometimes he had long hair despite being a man, and sometimes he had short hair despite being a woman. But those two people would always be there, no matter the dream. Their faces and names would change, but Jun’ichirō knew it was them.

Out of idle curiosity once, he had looked up the names all at once.

It had shocked him what he had found. Exactly like his dream, three friends that were inseparable until they all ran away to America to start a new life away from the old country. The three of them would have each other's backs and never let a snide remark slide.

It was uncanny. Jun’ichirō wrote it off as he read it once and simply remembered it too well in his dream.

It didn't explain why he had been Junta that time, but it had kept his mind at ease.

He scrubbed at his hair, trying to get the feeling of someone grabbing it and cutting it off out of his mind. That had been way too realistic for his taste. He hated that dream, he had wanted to wake up immediately. Someone touching his hair was a huge no-no, and he really wanted to find whoever it was that had been in that dream and smash their face in for touching it.

Jun’ichirō shook his head.

He was blurring the lines again. He wasn't Junko. His hair hadn't been cut by anyone but the barber in the last few weeks. His hair hadn't been touched by anyone. He was fine. He wasn't Junko.

He wasn't.

Right?

“Nii-sama!” Naomi called, and Jun’ichirō forced his body up and out of bed, walking towards his sister's room to make sure she was okay. She sometimes had nightmares, but so far this year she had been okay.

Y'know, despite nearly dying when Akutagawa had decided to target Atsushi-kun.

That had been out of nowhere.

“Yes Naomi?” He knocked on her door.

Naomi opened the door, her blue eyes gleaming with unshed tears. He had half of a second to decide to try and kill Akutagawa one day before she was launching herself into his arms. He held his little sister close and rocked her back and forth, humming the song their parents had taught him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gin stirred her tea and yawned into her hand, trying not to faceplant onto the table.

She had had a long night of simply staring at a warehouse in hopes that a person that she had been stalking was going to show up.

They hadn't, and she had simply wasted a night waiting.

It felt nostalgic almost, although she had only been on a few stakeouts before.

She leaned back in her chair, sipping at her now sweetened tea and savoring the full body of the tea. It was a delightful taste, and Gin could have sworn that she tasted this flavor before. It was close to coffee, but Gin couldn't stand the smell of coffee, so she didn't drink it. It was odd.

Sometimes she got these feelings. Of doing something beforehand or tasting something or going somewhere before. But she's never done it before. She's never eaten that food or drank that drink. She's never gone to that place before. It was simply the feeling she got, and they were so strong.

She had looked up the reason for this feeling.

Deja vu.

Such a pretty name for something that was plaguing her. She huffed into her cup and took an angry sip, her brows furrowing. 

Gin was plagued near constantly by the feeling of deja vu. Places she went that she and her brother confirmed she had never gone before. Meals she has never eaten that tasted as familiar as a long-lost friend’s embrace. People she had never known that she could swear she could predict what their actions would be.

Take Tachihara for example.

Gin knew him and his reactions, inside and out, even before he fully integrated himself into her life and into the Black Lizard squadron. How he would move, what side of hers he would protect, how he would try to fight someone off in melee situations. Gin knew it all, and she had only known the idiot for a few years. 

And then there was the other person for example. Gin sipped her tea thoughtfully, thinking about the person that she also knew so well.

The illusionist detective from the Armed Detective Agency, Tanizaki Jun’ichirō.

That detective was one of the reasons that Gin was currently not on the field right now. He had managed to catch her with a knife on her neck, which has made Onii-san rather angry when she had come back home and he had seen the scratch. He had wanted to go out and hunt the person who has cut her, but she had rolled her eyes and smacked him with a cleaning cloth.

It wasn't a deep cut, barely bleeding really. Onii-san was just really protective of her. He had been ever since the streets. Her brother was ridiculous sometimes in his protectiveness, but he also didn't want to turn out like their mother, so she let it slide.

The illusionist detective was just that good to get a hit on her. He should wear that honor with pride. He had managed to hide from her and managed to cut her, and then they had devolved into a fistfight when she had kicked the knife away after he had cut her. And then the deja vu feeling had kicked in and they started countering each other easily.

For some reason, the deja vu feeling Gin got was far more strong with these two than with anyone else.

The illusionist detective and Tachihara. Gin sighed into her tea, staring down at it with unseeing eyes.

Why those two? Why them? Why did she feel the deja vu the strongest with them? It didn't make sense, she barely knew the Illusionist detective and she could hardly talk to Tachihara without trying to rip his throat out. But for some reason, in a fight, the three of them seemed to gravitate to each other one way or another. Gin would be fighting the illusionist detective and Tachihara would come in, or Tachihara would be fighting the illusionist detective and Gin would get a feeling that she needed to find him.

Honestly, this deja vu was turning out more painful than it was helpful.

Maybe Gin should just stab the illusionist detective in the kidney and then everything would be done with. But no, then there was Tachihara to deal with, and Hirotsu-san would be sad if Tachihara were to die.

Ugh!

No reprieve for Gin then, since she couldn't stab the idiots that were causing her so much pain.

She sighed and put the now empty cup down. She was simply exhausted. There was so much going on. Too much really. Battle plans to make and create and ensure her brother that she didn't create solely for the reason to be in the line of fire. Higuchi to negotiate with. Hirotsu-san to barter with to allow her out of the shadows so she could stab some people to get some aggression out.

Maybe she should spar with Tachihara and stab him “on accident.”

Wait no. Hirotsu-san would send her down to Verlaine to relearn. Bad idea, Verlaine was a horrible taskmaster when he thought his lessons weren't being utilized to their fullest.

Gin wanted to tear her hair out and scream. No good options to get her aggression out on her targets!

Maybe she could convince Higuchi and Hirotsu-san to target the Armed Detective Agency again. She'd try to get a stab in on the Illusionist detective. But wait, every time the Black Lizard attacked the Armed Detective Agency, they made a fool of the Port Mafia.

Gin thumped her head against the table, a groan echoing throughout her little alcove in the café. 

She wanted to get some aggression out dammit! She wanted to stab someone, she wanted to destroy an ego. But noooo, Hirotsu-san would be upset and the Black Lizard would make a fool of itself if they went.

Stupid deja vu. Stupid authority figures. Stupid life.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jun’ichirō stared at his screen, not really comprehending it. He was supposed to be typing up the report about the bank robbery, he was supposed to be detailing about his job during it and what he had noticed.

His mind kept wandering away though. This bank robbery reminded him about the dream he had about Junko, Mitsuhiko, and Giichi. It was something they would pull, he was sure of it. They were criminals after all.

But in this dream, Junko was wearing pants and had her hair short still. She liked the short hair, grinning fiercely at it. She was shooting people a gun, grin bright and bold and her companions were smirking into their hands at the fact that Junko was happy.

“You're Junko despite what you wear after all.”

That's what Mitsuhiko had said, and apparently he had stuck to his promise, giving Junko pants and letting her cut her hair short. Him and Giichi seemed to be good friends to Junko, what with their crime ring and everything.

Jun’ichirō sighed, slumping over and staring listlessly into space. There was always a pattern with these dreams that he had noticed. Always three people, always the same first romanji initial. M, G, and J. Jun'ichirō always saw things out of the eyes of the person with the “J,” and sometimes the M person would be a man or a woman, and sometimes the G person would be man, but most predominantly a woman. Sometimes they wouldn't be any gender, and that one made Jun’ichirō laugh because it was usually in times of strict gender roles when the G person always decided that they were going against the mould.

“Tanizaki-kun? Are you okay?” 

Jun’ichirō lifted his head to look at the newest recruit, Atsushi-kun. A very sweet boy, who had a powerful Ability and a personality that was the exact opposite of someone who had a powerful Ability. Atsushi-kun was someone who was beaten down and bloodied from his past, Jun’ichirō could tell. Jun’ichirō could also tell that there was a spine of steel hidden behind those skittish eyes and jumpy shoulders.

Jun’ichirō couldn't wait for Atsushi-kun to finally get comfortable and unleash the beast that was hiding beneath his skin.

“Just– some reoccurring dreams.” Jun’ichirō sighed, sitting back up. “I have them every so often, nothing bad, just annoying that I can't understand them.”

Atsushi-kun’s face twisted in commiseration. “I know the feeling. Well sorta. But uhm– if they aren't bad dreams, why are they so annoying? Why not let them play out and see what you can get from them? Isn't like, trying to understand your dreams some sort of art or something?”

Jun’ichirō blinked at Atsushi-kun.

"How do you know that?”

Atsushi-kun had grown up in, what Jun’ichirō could tell anyway, a very rural and very religious orphanage. There was no way he had learned about dream divination or something like tha–

“I read about it.” Atsushi-kun shrugged one of his shoulders up and down. “The library was old, and had a lot of books.”

Jun’ichirō could accept that. He could also accept the fact that Atsushi-kun looked like he really wanted to stop talking about the orphanage he had come from now. It was making Jun’ichirō’s metaphorical hackles raise a little, making the detective in him raise his little head and want to investigate the orphanage that Atsushi-kun had come from. So Jun’ichirō dropped the subject about the orphanage, but held tight to the dream divination book conversation thread. This was the most he had talked to Atsushi-kun ever since the disastrous exam and the disastrous first day.

“Do you remember the title of any of those books?” Jun’ichirō asked, partially out of curiosity, and partially to test Atsushi-kun's memory. He had a mind like a steel trap when it came to certain things.

Atsushi-kun placed a finger to his cheek, arm crossed over his chest to hold the opposite elbow as he thought.

“One was called Alchemy of Your Dreams. I remember that, because I read in another book that alchemy was something different, so I pulled that book to understand how to use alchemy of a dream.”

Jun’ichirō nodded, suitably impressed. The new recruit wasn't so bad at remembering things.

“Another one was The Interpretation of Dreams, but I don't recommend it.” Atsushi-kun made a face. “Stupid author.”

Jun’ichirō hid a snort with his hand. “Duly noted.”

“The final one that I found before the Matron of the library found me and dragged me out was called, hmm. What was the name. . . .” Atsushi-kun swayed on his feet in thought, before snapping his finger. “Oh yeah! Dreaming Ahead of Time! That one was really interesting. It spoke about how people can dream of past and future lives.”

“Really? I guess I'll have to check them out then, if you're saying they're good books Atsushi-kun.” Jun’ichirō smiled at the other boy. It was good to have someone else his age in the workforce at last. Naomi was family, so she was always by his side, that was a given, but it was nice just to have a friend at work. A friend he could gossip with and a friend he could laugh with.

Jun’ichirō didn't often seek people out to spend time with. But Atsushi-kun was hiding something under his skin, something that had beaten down but not beaten out of him. Jun’ichirō wanted to nourish that side of Atsushi-kun, teach him how to let the monster out.

Most people when they looked at Jun’ichirō only saw him as a poser. A kid who was acting like a delinquent and wrote him off. The idiots. There was a reason he had the Ability that he did, and he had met Kunikida-san the way that he had. Not that he would ever tell anyone how he and Kunikida-san met. That would go to their graves together.

Atsushi-kun smiled back at Jun’ichirō, oblivious of his plans to help Atsushi-kun let the monster under his skin out, and the new recruit padded off to Kunikida-san's desk, asking if the man needed any help.

Kunikida-san wouldn't say no, he was way too soft for that. No one outside of the Agency would see the guy as soft, but Jun'ichirō knew he was a complete softie, especially on Atsushi-kun. Kunikida-san had a special way of filing his reports, a specific way. And yet he was letting Atsushi-kun help.

Jun'ichirō hid a snicker into his hand again and clicked out of the report he was trying to write. He was going to get nowhere and he might as well look up the books that Atsushi-kun remembered. They would be a good starting point for Jun’ichirō.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gin sharpened one of her knives carefully. The scrape of the whetstone against steel both aggravated her ears and soothed her nerves. 

They were planning another raid on the Armed Detective Agency. And by “they,” Gin meant Higuchi-san, and maybe Onii-san too. He had been quite upset at the fact that the white tiger Ability user could meet him blow-to-blow, and while Onii-san wouldn't be going on this raid, he had explicit instructions for everyone to try and stab the tiger.

Gin's eyes dimmed as she remembered holding the knife to Higuchi-san's neck. She hadn't wanted to leave her brother in the hands of the enemy. But no one but the Boss and Hirotsu-san were aware of her relation to Onii-san, and she was pretty sure that half the time, Hirotsu-san forgot about it. Gin was loyal to the Port Mafia, yes. But she was also loyal to her brother. That's why she had been one of the biggest voices heard on getting her brother back, and the men had been shocked and startled at hearing the raspy voice raise in tone.

Gin and Onii-san weren't allowed to be friendly to each other while on the clock. They both knew that. Onii-san understood why she hasn't sought out his kidnappers at first. He had, through writing, let her know that he could never blame her for not breaking cover.

Her brother was kind to her to a fault. 

She tested the sharpness of her blade against her thumb and simply the slightest touch of steel brought forward blood.

She cleaned the blade and started sharpening another blade.

It certainly hasn't helped that Gin’s deja vu feeling had been getting worse. Especially around Tachihara, that idiot. He was really grinding on her nerves, and she wanted to knock him down a peg or two, but she'll settle for stabbing some of the Armed Detective Agency until they overwhelm the Black Lizard again. 

It was almost a ritual at this point. The Port Mafia attacks guns-ablazing, trying to overwhelm by sheer numbers and steel. They would have an initial upper hand, and then they'd get cocky, someone would misstep, or there would be a break in ranks. The Armed Detective Agency would see it, take advantage of it, and immediately turn the tides. It was almost unfair, that they had that woman who could bring the dead back to life, but Kajii-san was wanting to meet her face-to-face.

Probably not for a nice chat. It was probably a second meeting, now that Gin thought about it. They had met on the train, right? So the woman and the mad doctor would possibly be fighting each other again.

Gin wondered privately, if Kajii-san was simply enamored with someone who was the antithesis of everything he had thought was true and right and scientific. The idiot mad scientist had been practically over the moon about meeting that doctor.

But that wasn't something for Gin to be concerned with.

Right now, she had to go and fight the Armed Detective Agency again. And now they didn't have just their normal crew, oh no. Why would they just have their normal crew? Now they had an ex-Port Mafia member who had gone rogue and joined them.

Izumi Kyouka-san had joined the ranks of the Armed Detective Agency, and that rankled Onii-san’s hackles. He had been in charge of the girl, and she had practically stabbed him in the back when she joined the white tiger’s side.

Gin sighed and put the knife down, taking out a polishing cloth and started cleaning the blades she had sharpened today. 

It didn't matter.

Nothing would get in her way.

Not this deja vu feeling, not the Armed Detective Agency. She would climb the ranks and prove herself and her brother worthy people to be in the Port Mafia's ranks. Invaluable assets, they would be invaluable assets.

And no one would stop her from getting there.

Chapter Text

“Jiei! Duck!” Came the call, and Jiei ducked, the grenade sailing through the air and into the group of people that he was currently dealing with. Thank goodness these idiots didn’t speak Japanese, otherwise they would have known to be wary of the incoming instrument of their death.

“Thanks Masahi!” He called, and tried to catch a glimpse of Gintoki. Despite his name meaning silver, the other man that made up their third stuck to the shadows and managed to make them his threshold and kill anyone who dared to attack Jiei and Masahi’s backs.

It was nice, being friends with people who were as bloodthirsty as him.

Being employed by the yakuza was less nice, but they made due. And hey! Gintoki and Masahi liked Jiei’s tattoos, despite everyone else thinking that snowflakes were a stupid choice.

Masahi had gotten some sort of flower, Jiei thought it was hyacinths? They spanned all the way up the man’s back, Jiei had seen them when they were changing and getting ready for the missions that the higher ups in the yakuza were sending them on. They bloomed so beautifully on his skin, Jiei almost would believe that Masahi was born with the marks.

Gintoki had gotten a sword that had taken up the spine of his back, and branching off that sword were beasts that Jiei had never seen before. Gintoki had confided in the two of them that his sister, Ryomi, had an Ability that created such creatures.

The thought of such a thing made Jiei shiver.

Abilities were such burdens to bear, and Gintoki was such a good older brother to keep his little sister safe from the world. A world that would try to hurt the girl at every opportunity and try to use her for something that she had merely been born with.

“To your left!” Jiei called, and Masahi gave a barely perceptible nod, before ducking under the guy to the left. The man was then run through with Jiei’s sword.

A second passed. Two.

Heavy breathing echoed in the room, before Gintoki stepped out of the shadows of the room.

“That’s all of them.”

“Why are we always sent on these sort of missions?” Masahi whined as he wiped his gun down, likely trying to get ahead of the blood splatter that was coating it and trying to rust it. “I know we can take care of these things, but c’mon man, we’re good at other things! Gintoki-kun is literally the best infiltrator they’ll ever have.”

Gintoki scratched at the side of his face, his one sign of embarrassment that he allowed himself on a mission.

“I appreciate your vote of confidence.” Gintoki said in his warm, lilting tone. “However, we will just do what is asked of us, no more–”

“No less, and keep our heads down.” Jiei finished for his friend. “We’ve heard you say the same thing before about three hundred times Toki-kun.”

Gintoki glared at him, and Jiei thought he looked so handsome. And then immediately told himself in his head that he was never allowed to think such a thing or say it out loud. It was wrong.

“I have five knives and can kill you ten different ways.”

“Yeah, so can Masahi.” Jiei pushed his luck, and luckily Gintoki rolled his eyes, the pretty silver that they were, and Jiei wondered if Gintoki was named after them, or if his parents had followed tradition and waited to name the man until his eyes settled and then named him after his beautiful eyes settled. Or maybe Gintoki had named himself.

Jiei shook his head slightly. Such thoughts were unbecoming and not right. He shouldn’t be thinking about how his friend got his name, he should be thinking about how they were going to format the mission reports later. Everyone died in the room except the three of them, so obviously the three of them were the victors.

Sometimes though, Jiei wondered.

Did the higher ups want them dead?

But no, the higher ups just obviously knew that they were a capable bunch and could take care of themselves and these missions. Jiei was simply overthinking things and needed to stop thinking. Just like how he needed to stop thinking about Gintoki and Masahi, he would throw this line of thought away into the wind.

“So what are we thinking for dinner tonight?” Masahi asked, stretching his arms upwards then outwards. The fight must have taken more out of him than Jiei thought.

“I’m good for whatever.” Gintoki muttered. Which meant the Mexican place down the road from the hidey hole.

“Mexican sounds good to m–”

BANG

Blood, like pearls, were suspended in perfect orbs in the air.

Masahi fell backwards.

Jiei didn’t register the blood splatter on his face, but it felt wet.

Jiei didn’t register the scream in his ears, but his throat felt so raw.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jun’ichirō woke up screaming, slamming a hand over his mouth and the other hand over his throat to clamp down on his vocal cords. He rushed to his feet and stumbled down the hall as quickly as he could, slamming the door open and slamming it behind him before finding the toilet and throwing up whatever was left of his dinner.

Panting, trembling like a newborn cat, and feeling like he had the strength of one too, he pushed himself up and flushed the toilet before turning on the faucet and rinsing his mouth.

“What the fuck.” Jun’ichirō whispered to himself.

None of his dreams had ever, ever been so vivid or detailed before. He could practically feel the blood splatter on his face from Masahi, the burn of his vocal cords from when Jiei had screamed, he could see Gintoki’s horrified expression.

He could still feel the self-disgust at finding Masahi and Gintoki attractive and the self-flagellation when he kept thinking about it.

Jiei must have been from a time period where homosexuality was not looked upon too kindly.

Looking up into the mirror, Jun’ichirō nearly screamed when he didn’t see himself for a split second, but the green eyes of Jiei (how did he know that Jiei had green eyes–), and the soil-brown hair of Junko. A moment of staring thought, and these visages, the mirages, faded into Jun’ichirō’s brown eyes and ginger hair.

He turned away from the mirror, sliding down along the sink and cabinet and letting the floor chill his legs and hands. He let it ground him.

Jun’ichirō was Jun’ichirō. He wasn’t anyone else, and he wouldn’t let anyone else tell him otherwise.

His dreams were just dreams, nothing more, no matter what book he read, everything was speculation. Jun’ichirō wasn’t dreaming of past lives, he wasn’t.

There was no proof. No proof at all.

It wasn’t like those people existed. Even though they totally did, and Jun’ichirō had looked them up and all the details that the dreams had revealed matched the information known. He must have simply read about it at some point and dreamed about being one of those people.

It wasn’t like those lives, these dreams, meant something.

They meant nothing.

“Onii-sama?”

He lifted his eyes to see Naomi standing in the doorway, her ice-blue eyes showing sheer concern.

“What’s wrong? I thought I heard you vomit.”

“Just, just a bad dream.”

Jun’ichirō felt his head thud against the cabinet behind him.

That’s all it has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gin’s hackles were raised before they were entering the building that housed the Armed Detective Agency. Tachihara, the damn fool, had been trying to get some sort of rise out of her or out of Hirotsu-san, but the old man refused to let a kid get the better of him and break his professional mask, and Gin was trying to emulate that mask.

Unfortunately, that sort of thing only came with practice it seemed, and Gin’s knife had once again found a place against the soft skin of Tachihara’s throat, ready to slice.

As much as she doesn’t like the guy, as much as she wanted to slit his throat sometimes, she couldn’t. It’s not that it was frowned upon, far from it. Okay, maybe a little that, and Hirotsu-san would be disappointed in her if she fell to her baser instincts.

No, the thing was, she always got a weird feeling of deja vu whenever she tries to slit the damn idiot’s throat.

As if she has done it before.

But no, she definitely hasn’t slit Tachihara’s throat before, she knows that she hasn’t. Definitely thought about it, yes. Fantasized about it, maybe. But done the deed? No.

Maybe she was mixing up someone else’s throat that she’s slit and Tachihara’s. Maybe another redheads? It would make sense, but also no one else gave her that sense of deja vu. Except for the illusionist from the Armed Detective Agency. Whose building they were currently climbing, getting ready for a raid.

Ah well, the Black Lizard needed to be careful of Izumi Kyouka, and no one else really. Except for the illusionist detective and the weretiger that Onii-san liked fighting.

Maybe the doctor, but the doctor would be busy.

Gin eyed Kajii-san, who was thumbing a lemon, or maybe it was a lemon bomb, and grinning to himself. Yeah, Gin wasn’t going to go near the doctor and Kajii-san today during the raid. The man seemed to have some sort of fascination with the doctor now, after the train incident, and yup. Gin wasn’t going to touch it with a fifty-foot pole.

Should she let the doctor know about how weird Kajii-san was being?

Hmmm. . . . . .

Nah. Kajii-san was mostly harmless, at least to the Armed Detective Agency’s doctor, who could revive others and herself. So Gin shouldn’t have to get involved with this weird little, dance or explosion or whatever was going on between the two. Kajii-san obviously thought that he and the doctor were in an enemies-to-lovers thing, and the doctor, judging from the words she had directed at Kajii-san, had merely wanted to cut his head from his shoulders and be done with it.

That feeling was something that Gin could respect, and something she felt often.

As they near the door that opened into the offices, Gin calmed her breathing down and lifted her knife.

Go time.

Hirotsu-san used his Ability to throw the door across the room, and Gin ducked under Kajii-san’s arm and darted into the room, beelining straight for the illusionist detective. He was their biggest asset currently, capable of hiding the other members of the Armed Detective Agency. The illusionist detective was the biggest thorn in their side currently.

Gin was nearly immediately stopped by Kyouka, who had her own knife out and was clashing with her.

“Here to stop me?” Gin asked in her disguised voice, and Kyouka grimaced, putting more weight on her knife.

“I won’t let you hurt Tanizaki-san.” She whispered, disengaging the knife-lock and immediately trying to strike Gin.

Unfortunately for her, Gin had more experience than Kyouka did. The kid was a prodigy, no doubt, that was why Onii-san had sought her out. Thirty-five kills was nothing to sneeze at anyways. Kyouka was smart with her knife, with her skills.

Gin just had a lot more experience, and with more experience came the ability to dissect what the opponent was going to do and what they weren’t.

The rest of the office descended into chaos around them, and unfortunately Gin lost sight of Kajii-san, likely beelining for the doctor or the doctor’s office. She would need to listen to Kajii-san’s whining later on how that went.

For now, Gin just weaved and danced around the blade that Kyouka wielded, and didn’t let the other girl get a hit on her, which was visibly frustrating her. It was nothing more than a furrow in her brows and a tightening of her jaws, but Gin lived with her brother.

She knew micro-expressions.

Maa, that was before the weretiger came around.

Speaking of. . . . .

Gin bent backwards to avoid the knife slash and cast her eyes around to find the weretiger in a fight with Tachihara. Interesting choice, but what was also interesting was the fact that the fur that undoubtedly belonged to the tiger form was coating the arms of the kid. And it was deflecting the bullets that Tachihara was shooting.

Huh. Something to report back to the Boss, she didn’t think that bulletproof fur was in the weretiger’s file.

Wait.

Where was the illusionist detective?

Dammit! She should have realized that the damn detective was going to throw up an illusion at the first second he could and try to fight in that sort of sense. Instead, Gin had gotten distracted with Kyouka because she was in Onii-san’s interest.

She hoped that Hirotsu-san didn’t get a wind of this, otherwise the man would send her down to Verlaine-san for retraining, and Gin wanted to avoid the basement as much as possible.

She hated basements.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jun’ichirō wasn’t in the mood for this. He had had a bad night and he really didn’t want to deal with the Port Mafia today. Especially not with the Black Lizard squadron today. And wait, shit, was that the damn man that had the bombs? Why was he here and why was he going after Yosano-sensei?

Dammit, was this a grudge match? Was that why the lemon bomber here?

He was quick to cast Light Snow over Yosano-sensei. Scary as she was, Jun’ichirō knew she wasn’t infallible, so he would help where he could. And if that was during a grudge match against a crazy scientist that was obsessed with death? Well he could definitely help with that.

Right now, it seemed the woman who had shot Naomi was after Kunikida-san, which was funny. Kunikida-san could lay her out any time of the day, but was giving her the curtesy of fighting back. How sweet of him. Jun’ichirō should focus on something else though.

Like the fact that the sneak from the Black Lizard was going after him now. Looks like he was done with Kyouka-chan, who was on the floor and her kimono had been stabbed with her own knife. Atsushi-kun wouldn’t take that too lightly. Although the boy would probably sew the kimono up, he would try and corner the sneak later for retribution for the clothes.

But for now, it was time for Jun’ichirō to fight it looks like. The sneak immediately threw out a knife, one that wasn’t coated in blood, and thank Kami for that, since they had literally just polished these floors the other day.

Atsushi-kun had been concerning knowledgeable about it.

Jun’ichirō decided to leave that with Kunikida-san, he had been in the room when Atsushi-kun was explaining the different types of polish to Kyouka-chan. Kunikida-san would take care of things, and Jun’ichirō would leave it to the adults since he had Naomi to take care of. And oh yeah. A fight to also focus on.

He ducked under the knife and responded with his own, activating his Ability to leave an afterimage that would mess with the sneak’s eyes as he got around them to try and knock them out with a shime-waza hold.

Unfortunately, it seemed the sneak was catching onto Jun’ichirō’s style of fighting, since he immediately turned around and tried to slash him with the knife again. Was Jun’ichirō going to have to bring out his own knife? He had just polished it though, he didn’t want to dull the shine! Not on a silly little fight that occurred every other week.

With a grimace, Jun’ichirō pulled out his own knife, meeting the sneak’s knife and knocking the blade off-course. They both jumped back, moving in a slow circle.

The sneak was crouched low, ready for a rush and his eyes were sharp. Probably trying to see a chink in Jun’ichirō’s defenses and go for a rush. Jun’ichirō, on the other hand, was standing straight, practically half-turned to the sneak as he walked the circle they were doing. His eyes were on the sneak yeah, but the damn man wasn’t his sole focal point.

Jun’ichirō was exhausted. He had had a bad night. Nothing was working on the migraine that was slowly creeping its way up his neck and into his head. The damn dreams weren’t stopping, if anything, they were coming more and more often.

He felt like he was allowed to slip into bad habits in times like this.

Light Snow activated, not that the sneak could see, and Jun’ichirō made multiples of himself, the illusions rushing the sneak. Predictably, the sneak stumbled back at the sight of so many of Jun’ichirō attacking and not knowing which one was the actual Jun’ichirō.

See the thing about a knife fight, it didn’t matter who struck first or who struck last. So long as your opponent bled out faster than you and you stabbed or slashed more, that was what counted in a knife fight. Thoughts and opinions and other matters fell by the wayside, because all that came down it a fight, especially a knife fight, was instinct. You could think through the strikes all you wanted, but it didn’t matter in the end if your opponent simply had better abilities and superior strength and could stab harder and make sure you bled out.

Thankfully, Jun’ichirō wasn’t a part of the world that was all knife fights and gunshots and blood wars anymore. No, Jun’ichirō’s life now was a part of the light, that was the Armed Detective Agency.

So when the sneak stumbled backwards from the illusions of Jun’ichirō attacking, Jun’ichirō was right behind him, hand grasping the wrist that held the knife and his other arm wrapping around the neck and hopefully cutting off enough blood to the head so this guy would go down quick enough for Jun’ichirō to help Yosano-sensei with the crazy lemon guy.

Jun’ichirō ignored how this mirrored the dream that he had had, where Jiei had grabbed Gintoki in a hold similar to this one and dragged him into the shadows to hide from the sniper that had targeted the group of three.

Those dreams had no similarity to real life after all.