madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2024-12-22 01:14 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2024-12-22 01:14 pm
Entry tags:
The Distance Between
Main Points:
Persona 4 Verdict AU (P4/Judgment Fusion)
Chapter Summary: Yosuke and Seta share a moment after Souji's attacked by yakuza.
Word Count: 1277
Rating: Teen
Souji blinks. Usually, Hanamura prefers to keep his distance, but here and now he’s actually reached out, touching him, like all those years and the ensuing distance in between vanished like a puff of smoke. And he’s not bothering to hide the wince as he eyes the spot where one of them had got in a good hit—feels like it’s bruising nicely. Hanamura, he reflects dazedly, is rather like a stray cat, afraid to demonstrate any feelings of attachment for the fear they’ll be used against him. Not, he reflects with sudden clarity, that his old friend is wrong there in any capacity.
“You don’t have a concussion, do you?” Apparently, his silence is worrying. And Hanamura is still capable of worrying about Seta, despite how he’d been treated. “I know you can take care of yourself, it’s just, uh...it’s been a while since you’ve practiced kendo, right? Can’t keep up with literal yakuza if you’ve gotten all rusty.”
“How do you know that?” Seta’s definitely overwhelmed. He’s literally starting to shake, adrenaline and sleep deprivation and terror and another emotion he can’t quite put his finger on (and isn’t sure if he wants to) all pulsing through him like the lights at one of Kamurocho’s nightclubs, or maybe the new VR place. And it doesn’t help that he’s being watched, careful, cautious, like if Hanamura handles this wrong there’s going to be an explosion, or maybe like he’s too delicate and going to smash into pieces any second now on the floor. It doesn’t help that he can see some of the nervousness mirrored back, can read the detective better than he’s been able in years. One of Hanamura’s hands froze on the way to his pocket, to look casual, and he looks tempted to reach out and try to steady Seta but isn’t sure if he should.
And then Yosuke flashes him a smile, and it’s nearly as blinding, because it’s real. It’s a little embarrassed, a little mischievous, but absolutely none of it is fake, none of it is fabricated, and Yosuke—Hanamura, his brain reminds itself—Hanamura hadn’t genuinely smiled since… Since that case. Since that day. “You really do have a concussion, huh. I’m a detective now. It’s my job to know all kinds of stuff.”
The witness is being evasive, is his oh-so-inane summary, without even the blunt honesty of going ahead and invoking the right against self-incrimination.
But trying to drag that truth out of Hanamura is akin to trying to get a cat to go anywhere it doesn’t want to go. Claws and a great deal of yowling and spilled blood might metaphorically get involved, and maybe it’s the situation but he’s enjoying having Hanamura’s attention on him without it turning into a catfight, and he finds himself wanting to drag the moment on, to clutch the scraps of comfort and safety close. “I don’t suppose you’d know why they were targeting me?”
Hanamura glances away quickly. He still sucks at lying to me, I guess. Should I find that comforting? And he’s not hurrying to answer, so presumably he’s weighing how to respond, too. It’s always a little surreal, seeing him actually think about what he says before just blurting it out, no matter how often he’d seen that in court before. “Guess they heard the rumor about how everybody in Inaba wanted you and wanted to see that handsome face for themselves,” he jokes.
Seta had built up a reputation, one which his parents took great pride in relating to anyone that mattered. But even now he feels just a piece of his icy cold heart shatter, and the distance between them return, despite the fact that Hanamura’s still leaning toward him, still looking with traces of desperation around his eyes for any sign that Seta’s not okay. He’d known they weren’t close enough for Hanamura to be honest with him, not anymore, but he’d hoped. He shouldn’t have shattered the illusion. Still, he’s a prosecutor, and he can pursue a lead just as well as an ex-attorney. “Don’t lie to me, Hanamura.”
Hanamura licks his lips, fiddling with the earpiece and glancing back out—probably to check for danger or Miyama’s police officers arriving—before looking back, and that determination is…
It’s not new, not by a long shot, but Seta hasn’t seen it for years, either.
“You probably don’t want to get involved. It’s already bad enough you know me, apparently. I’m going to handle it, though, so you don’t have to worry.” His voice is reassuring enough, but there’s something lurking in his expression that says maybe he hasn’t changed as much as it seems. Like he’s not confident (he never was, Souji’s mind reminds him, as if he doesn’t already hurt enough, but he’s always done that, always smiled and joked and put on a confident exterior even when inside he’s crumbling, between the part-time job and his status as pariah of Inaba) but is forging on anyway, throwing himself in harms’ way because he can’t bear to see injustice prevail. And, at least partially, for Souji’s sake.
His parents, he knows, would be furious, but right now, Souji doesn’t give a damn. Yosuke’s done enough reaching out, only for it to be shoved back in his face. He deserves better. So he reaches out, touches Hanamura’s frozen hand, and Hanamura startles and then just stops moving entirely. It’s unclear whether he’s even still breathing.
“Hanamura. I’m a prosecutor, no safer a profession than a detective. The danger is not yours alone.” Still no answer. Maybe he overdid it a little?
And then he laughs. A little rueful, maybe, but that’s honest enough too. “You haven’t changed as much as I thought, have you?” That’s still not what he wants, but it’s only another moment before he nods, making up his mind. “They were Kyorei clan assholes. Don’t know why they were so interested in nabbing you, but I’m going to go have a friendly chat after I’m sure you’re safe.”
Kyorei—so he hadn’t been joking about them being yakuza, huh. But that’s not one of the local Tojo Clan subsidiaries, is it? ...Omi, maybe? They were supposedly expanding their range of influence into Tokyo, though as Seta rarely takes organized crime cases, he’s a little uninformed about the latest on that front. “You’ll...tell me what you learn, right?” If he promises to that, he’s also promising to come back in one piece.
He nods thoughtfully—so the message did get across, probably. “I can manage that, yeah. I’ve got a hunch, but—eh, I dunno. I’d thought we’d had kind of a truce.” ...Seta probably shouldn’t know about that. Nor probably about the fight he’s going to have to get that ‘friendly chat’. Plausible deniability might be the key here.
...Oh, yeah, he should probably also stop touching Hanamura’s hand. He’s probably made it weird by now, but to be fair, he’s absolutely out of practice socially. If he’s not imagining things, Hanamura actually looks a little disappointed, but the cops have finally arrived to escort Seta back to his residence, so Hanamura just steps back with a smile like the distance had always been there and never budged. He watches until Seta’s safe and secure in the patrol car, and then waves, carefree and jaunty.
Persona 4 Verdict AU (P4/Judgment Fusion)
Chapter Summary: Yosuke and Seta share a moment after Souji's attacked by yakuza.
Word Count: 1277
Rating: Teen
At first, Souji doesn’t even hear the question. It’s not until Hanamura leans into view, looking concerned, that the question even registers. And then there’s a hand on his arm and it has been a long time since anyone has dared get that close to a public prosecutor. “You, uh. You okay in there?”
Souji blinks. Usually, Hanamura prefers to keep his distance, but here and now he’s actually reached out, touching him, like all those years and the ensuing distance in between vanished like a puff of smoke. And he’s not bothering to hide the wince as he eyes the spot where one of them had got in a good hit—feels like it’s bruising nicely. Hanamura, he reflects dazedly, is rather like a stray cat, afraid to demonstrate any feelings of attachment for the fear they’ll be used against him. Not, he reflects with sudden clarity, that his old friend is wrong there in any capacity.
“You don’t have a concussion, do you?” Apparently, his silence is worrying. And Hanamura is still capable of worrying about Seta, despite how he’d been treated. “I know you can take care of yourself, it’s just, uh...it’s been a while since you’ve practiced kendo, right? Can’t keep up with literal yakuza if you’ve gotten all rusty.”
“How do you know that?” Seta’s definitely overwhelmed. He’s literally starting to shake, adrenaline and sleep deprivation and terror and another emotion he can’t quite put his finger on (and isn’t sure if he wants to) all pulsing through him like the lights at one of Kamurocho’s nightclubs, or maybe the new VR place. And it doesn’t help that he’s being watched, careful, cautious, like if Hanamura handles this wrong there’s going to be an explosion, or maybe like he’s too delicate and going to smash into pieces any second now on the floor. It doesn’t help that he can see some of the nervousness mirrored back, can read the detective better than he’s been able in years. One of Hanamura’s hands froze on the way to his pocket, to look casual, and he looks tempted to reach out and try to steady Seta but isn’t sure if he should.
And then Yosuke flashes him a smile, and it’s nearly as blinding, because it’s real. It’s a little embarrassed, a little mischievous, but absolutely none of it is fake, none of it is fabricated, and Yosuke—Hanamura, his brain reminds itself—Hanamura hadn’t genuinely smiled since… Since that case. Since that day. “You really do have a concussion, huh. I’m a detective now. It’s my job to know all kinds of stuff.”
The witness is being evasive, is his oh-so-inane summary, without even the blunt honesty of going ahead and invoking the right against self-incrimination.
But trying to drag that truth out of Hanamura is akin to trying to get a cat to go anywhere it doesn’t want to go. Claws and a great deal of yowling and spilled blood might metaphorically get involved, and maybe it’s the situation but he’s enjoying having Hanamura’s attention on him without it turning into a catfight, and he finds himself wanting to drag the moment on, to clutch the scraps of comfort and safety close. “I don’t suppose you’d know why they were targeting me?”
Hanamura glances away quickly. He still sucks at lying to me, I guess. Should I find that comforting? And he’s not hurrying to answer, so presumably he’s weighing how to respond, too. It’s always a little surreal, seeing him actually think about what he says before just blurting it out, no matter how often he’d seen that in court before. “Guess they heard the rumor about how everybody in Inaba wanted you and wanted to see that handsome face for themselves,” he jokes.
Seta had built up a reputation, one which his parents took great pride in relating to anyone that mattered. But even now he feels just a piece of his icy cold heart shatter, and the distance between them return, despite the fact that Hanamura’s still leaning toward him, still looking with traces of desperation around his eyes for any sign that Seta’s not okay. He’d known they weren’t close enough for Hanamura to be honest with him, not anymore, but he’d hoped. He shouldn’t have shattered the illusion. Still, he’s a prosecutor, and he can pursue a lead just as well as an ex-attorney. “Don’t lie to me, Hanamura.”
Hanamura licks his lips, fiddling with the earpiece and glancing back out—probably to check for danger or Miyama’s police officers arriving—before looking back, and that determination is…
It’s not new, not by a long shot, but Seta hasn’t seen it for years, either.
“You probably don’t want to get involved. It’s already bad enough you know me, apparently. I’m going to handle it, though, so you don’t have to worry.” His voice is reassuring enough, but there’s something lurking in his expression that says maybe he hasn’t changed as much as it seems. Like he’s not confident (he never was, Souji’s mind reminds him, as if he doesn’t already hurt enough, but he’s always done that, always smiled and joked and put on a confident exterior even when inside he’s crumbling, between the part-time job and his status as pariah of Inaba) but is forging on anyway, throwing himself in harms’ way because he can’t bear to see injustice prevail. And, at least partially, for Souji’s sake.
His parents, he knows, would be furious, but right now, Souji doesn’t give a damn. Yosuke’s done enough reaching out, only for it to be shoved back in his face. He deserves better. So he reaches out, touches Hanamura’s frozen hand, and Hanamura startles and then just stops moving entirely. It’s unclear whether he’s even still breathing.
“Hanamura. I’m a prosecutor, no safer a profession than a detective. The danger is not yours alone.” Still no answer. Maybe he overdid it a little?
And then he laughs. A little rueful, maybe, but that’s honest enough too. “You haven’t changed as much as I thought, have you?” That’s still not what he wants, but it’s only another moment before he nods, making up his mind. “They were Kyorei clan assholes. Don’t know why they were so interested in nabbing you, but I’m going to go have a friendly chat after I’m sure you’re safe.”
Kyorei—so he hadn’t been joking about them being yakuza, huh. But that’s not one of the local Tojo Clan subsidiaries, is it? ...Omi, maybe? They were supposedly expanding their range of influence into Tokyo, though as Seta rarely takes organized crime cases, he’s a little uninformed about the latest on that front. “You’ll...tell me what you learn, right?” If he promises to that, he’s also promising to come back in one piece.
He nods thoughtfully—so the message did get across, probably. “I can manage that, yeah. I’ve got a hunch, but—eh, I dunno. I’d thought we’d had kind of a truce.” ...Seta probably shouldn’t know about that. Nor probably about the fight he’s going to have to get that ‘friendly chat’. Plausible deniability might be the key here.
...Oh, yeah, he should probably also stop touching Hanamura’s hand. He’s probably made it weird by now, but to be fair, he’s absolutely out of practice socially. If he’s not imagining things, Hanamura actually looks a little disappointed, but the cops have finally arrived to escort Seta back to his residence, so Hanamura just steps back with a smile like the distance had always been there and never budged. He watches until Seta’s safe and secure in the patrol car, and then waves, carefree and jaunty.