(no subject)
Fandom: Persona 4
Characters: Adachi Tohru, Souji Seta
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for P4. Prompt was a story in which Souji and Adachi team up to defeat the true last boss. From the kink meme here.
“I’ll see you at the station later, partner.” Yosuke is the last to go. His hand settles warm and firm, heavy with a year’s worth of battles and covering for each other’s back, on Souji’s shoulder, patting twice before slipping off. He waves as he turns down the street, running a few paces to catch up with the others. Souji watches as he falls into step between Kanji and Chie, and the image, even without him, is a good one. They will be all right, every single one of them - separately, together, or permutations of such.
There is one more person he needs to see.
Adachi narrows his eyes at Souji through the visiting room glass. He is the type of man that never forgets, and hardly ever forgives. There are no pleasantries exchanged. “What do you want?” Adachi asks, leaning forward on his elbows, cradling his chin in one hand. He looks a little worn-down, a little old, a little ordinary, but no worse than the last time Souji saw him (lying on his back under a red and black sky, bruises layered over bruises and blood making its slow viscous way down his forehead).
This is the only person Souji can ask this of. He hesitates a moment before speaking, trying to drag up the foggy memories of a day long ago. “Do you have this feeling…”
Adachi barks out a harsh laugh. “You better not be here to talk about your fucking feelings, punk,” he bites out, half-incredulous, half amazed at Souji’s audacity. He has come into this meeting already expecting it to be a waste of his time, so it will be a waste of his time whether or not what Souji says has merit or not.
Souji rolls his eyes - he is a special one, but he is still a teenager nonetheless - and continues. “This feeling that something’s missing? The fog’s gone and all, but I still think something’s…off.” He raises his hand, his right, and stares at it, like there is some secret about ancient betrayal written in the creases of his palm and the rough skin of his calluses. Adachi lowers his eyes to Souji’s hand, and his own fist tightens against his cheek. For some reason, he looks over his shoulder, but there is no one there but the security camera. The guards are outside, talking about something mundane like this morning’s breakfast special, or tonight’s brand of beer.
“How did you get it? The power to go in.”
Adachi draws back, indignant. “What do you mean, how did I get it! You think you’re the only one who got a lucky break?” He makes some vague, dismissive gesture, leaning back and tilting his chair on its hind legs. “I got it the same way you did! Obviously.” Souji stares at him. Adachi stares back, and then averts his eyes in some artificial show of inspecting his fingernails.
“I don’t know how I got it. That’s why I’m asking you,” Souji says flatly.
The front two legs of Adachi’s chair clack as they hit the floor. He raises his eyes to Souji’s face, looking irritated, before glancing over his other shoulder again. “Adachi-san?” Souji prompts, after a moment. He looks too, but unless there is secret code etched into the stippled pattern of the painted walls, there is only a convict’s guilty conscience standing there. “Adachi-san,” he tries again, louder this time.
“I don’t remember, all right, kid?” Adachi answers impatiently, slowly turning around. “…Well, no, I mean, I remember…a little, but it’s hazy. There’s only a few things I can think of happening to me back then, and everything else up until Mayumi is messed up.” Mayumi, Souji echoes in thought, raising a brow. “It happened before you came here…shouldn’t you remember better anyway?” Adachi winces a little, like trying to recall everything hurts, like summoning Magatsu Izanagi seemed to hurt, as if doing so was straining against some inherent hierarchy of control.
“Nothing really seemed to stick out to me. I sat on the train for hours before I came here, and then Uncle Dojima came to pick me up,” Souji says.
“I mean, I had to take a taxi from the nearest town, ‘cause I couldn’t carry everything I needed on the train, and the guy was blasting this awful radio the entire time, it was driving me fucking nuts, you know?” Adachi mumbles, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“And Nanako was there, but we had just met, and she was trying to hide in the passenger seat. It was pretty quiet until Uncle spoke up, and said that we had to go to-“
“So when I just couldn’t take it anymore, I just blew up and told the hick to pull over already so I could get some gum or something, and he just turned into-“
“The gas station.”
“The gas station,” Adachi finishes. It takes a moment longer for it to strike him than it does Souji, and by the time he lifts his forehead off of the back of his wrist, Souji is already wide-eyed, fingers clamped tensely around the edge of the counter. Warily, Adachi adds, “…The attendant was kind of forward. I remember that, ‘cause she just-” Before Adachi can finish that line of thought, he flinches, the remnants of a puppeteer’s control snapping its restraints off a useless pawn.
Souji’s chair screeches as he pushes it back against the tiling while standing.
Adachi frowns. “Wait a minute, you can’t just prance in there. You don’t even know where to find her, and you can’t just accuse a person without some evidence - circumstantial at least. That’s against the law-“ But Souji, as all teenagers are wont to do, is hardly listening. Adachi’s voice raises, but through the glass, it doesn’t filter far enough to stop the boy from darting out the door, leaving the man to nothing but his own voice and the loose ends of puppet strings.
“Kid just bolted,” one of the guards says, sounding surprised, as the metal door behind Adachi swings open. “Is it over?”
Adachi stands automatically, obediently, putting his wrists together before he’s prompted to. He stares after Souji as the handcuffs click shut, at the swinging open door on the other side of the room, separated by a counter, a glass wall, and a diverging path that he had stepped off of years ago. He is unable to do anything but look. “Soon,” he mumbles. “But not yet.”
Characters: Adachi Tohru, Souji Seta
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for P4. Prompt was a story in which Souji and Adachi team up to defeat the true last boss. From the kink meme here.
“I’ll see you at the station later, partner.” Yosuke is the last to go. His hand settles warm and firm, heavy with a year’s worth of battles and covering for each other’s back, on Souji’s shoulder, patting twice before slipping off. He waves as he turns down the street, running a few paces to catch up with the others. Souji watches as he falls into step between Kanji and Chie, and the image, even without him, is a good one. They will be all right, every single one of them - separately, together, or permutations of such.
There is one more person he needs to see.
Adachi narrows his eyes at Souji through the visiting room glass. He is the type of man that never forgets, and hardly ever forgives. There are no pleasantries exchanged. “What do you want?” Adachi asks, leaning forward on his elbows, cradling his chin in one hand. He looks a little worn-down, a little old, a little ordinary, but no worse than the last time Souji saw him (lying on his back under a red and black sky, bruises layered over bruises and blood making its slow viscous way down his forehead).
This is the only person Souji can ask this of. He hesitates a moment before speaking, trying to drag up the foggy memories of a day long ago. “Do you have this feeling…”
Adachi barks out a harsh laugh. “You better not be here to talk about your fucking feelings, punk,” he bites out, half-incredulous, half amazed at Souji’s audacity. He has come into this meeting already expecting it to be a waste of his time, so it will be a waste of his time whether or not what Souji says has merit or not.
Souji rolls his eyes - he is a special one, but he is still a teenager nonetheless - and continues. “This feeling that something’s missing? The fog’s gone and all, but I still think something’s…off.” He raises his hand, his right, and stares at it, like there is some secret about ancient betrayal written in the creases of his palm and the rough skin of his calluses. Adachi lowers his eyes to Souji’s hand, and his own fist tightens against his cheek. For some reason, he looks over his shoulder, but there is no one there but the security camera. The guards are outside, talking about something mundane like this morning’s breakfast special, or tonight’s brand of beer.
“How did you get it? The power to go in.”
Adachi draws back, indignant. “What do you mean, how did I get it! You think you’re the only one who got a lucky break?” He makes some vague, dismissive gesture, leaning back and tilting his chair on its hind legs. “I got it the same way you did! Obviously.” Souji stares at him. Adachi stares back, and then averts his eyes in some artificial show of inspecting his fingernails.
“I don’t know how I got it. That’s why I’m asking you,” Souji says flatly.
The front two legs of Adachi’s chair clack as they hit the floor. He raises his eyes to Souji’s face, looking irritated, before glancing over his other shoulder again. “Adachi-san?” Souji prompts, after a moment. He looks too, but unless there is secret code etched into the stippled pattern of the painted walls, there is only a convict’s guilty conscience standing there. “Adachi-san,” he tries again, louder this time.
“I don’t remember, all right, kid?” Adachi answers impatiently, slowly turning around. “…Well, no, I mean, I remember…a little, but it’s hazy. There’s only a few things I can think of happening to me back then, and everything else up until Mayumi is messed up.” Mayumi, Souji echoes in thought, raising a brow. “It happened before you came here…shouldn’t you remember better anyway?” Adachi winces a little, like trying to recall everything hurts, like summoning Magatsu Izanagi seemed to hurt, as if doing so was straining against some inherent hierarchy of control.
“Nothing really seemed to stick out to me. I sat on the train for hours before I came here, and then Uncle Dojima came to pick me up,” Souji says.
“I mean, I had to take a taxi from the nearest town, ‘cause I couldn’t carry everything I needed on the train, and the guy was blasting this awful radio the entire time, it was driving me fucking nuts, you know?” Adachi mumbles, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“And Nanako was there, but we had just met, and she was trying to hide in the passenger seat. It was pretty quiet until Uncle spoke up, and said that we had to go to-“
“So when I just couldn’t take it anymore, I just blew up and told the hick to pull over already so I could get some gum or something, and he just turned into-“
“The gas station.”
“The gas station,” Adachi finishes. It takes a moment longer for it to strike him than it does Souji, and by the time he lifts his forehead off of the back of his wrist, Souji is already wide-eyed, fingers clamped tensely around the edge of the counter. Warily, Adachi adds, “…The attendant was kind of forward. I remember that, ‘cause she just-” Before Adachi can finish that line of thought, he flinches, the remnants of a puppeteer’s control snapping its restraints off a useless pawn.
Souji’s chair screeches as he pushes it back against the tiling while standing.
Adachi frowns. “Wait a minute, you can’t just prance in there. You don’t even know where to find her, and you can’t just accuse a person without some evidence - circumstantial at least. That’s against the law-“ But Souji, as all teenagers are wont to do, is hardly listening. Adachi’s voice raises, but through the glass, it doesn’t filter far enough to stop the boy from darting out the door, leaving the man to nothing but his own voice and the loose ends of puppet strings.
“Kid just bolted,” one of the guards says, sounding surprised, as the metal door behind Adachi swings open. “Is it over?”
Adachi stands automatically, obediently, putting his wrists together before he’s prompted to. He stares after Souji as the handcuffs click shut, at the swinging open door on the other side of the room, separated by a counter, a glass wall, and a diverging path that he had stepped off of years ago. He is unable to do anything but look. “Soon,” he mumbles. “But not yet.”