Archive of Our Own

The summer sun of Inaba lies on top of the horizon, like an overripe apple forgotten on a table, red and succulent and not long for this world. The golden light of the sunset is rippling through the curtains, landing on Yu and his mildly tired face, beaten down by summer heat and his friends' antics. As he contemplates what to do with his evening, a sudden ringing from his pocket puts a stop to his train of thought.

He takes out his phone, to see ‘Uncle’ on the caller ID. That’s odd. Did something happen? With a foreboding feeling, Yu takes the call. 

-Hey, nephew? Sorry to bother you like this, but could you bring something to the police station for me? I forgot some documents at home. I would go get them myself but I’m really tied down here. They are in the red folder on my desk, you can't miss it.

Of course, he hears the voice of his uncle from the other end, lax with exhaustion.

Yu feels his shoulders relax. Not every sudden thing has to be a catastrophe brewing. Sometimes it is just your friends or family wanting you to do an errand.

Well, there’s no reason he should refuse, his evening was free anyway. 

-Sure thing uncle, I'll bring them right over.

-Do you even remember the way to the station?

Yu’s mind momentarily flashes him with all the times he secretly went to hang out with Adachi there, when he could no longer slack off at Junes. Probably not a good idea to let his uncle know about that, though.

-I think so. I can ask someone the way if I get lost, don’t worry. Be right there.

-Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!

The line went dead. Well then. 

–

It’s started to get dark by the time he reaches his destination. With a red folder under his arm, Yu looks over the station. It isn’t a big building, fitting for a small town like Inaba, but big enough to have three stories. Four, if one were to count the basement. 

Luckily, Yu knows the way to his uncle's desk well enough. The reception is almost empty, it being Sunday night, save for a single clerk, dozing off and paying Yu no mind. Dojima having a very distinct-looking nephew isn’t exactly a secret.

The station is quiet and almost eerie in the evening. Yu's steps echo through the dimly lit corridor as he steps into the bullpen with a few rows of desks. Only one is lit by a cheap white lamp clamped on the edge. Dojima is hunched over the paperwork, his shoulders tense and slouched. 

Yu steps in closer and puts his palm straight between Dojima's shoulder blades and pushes down. 

-You're going to get awful back pain like this, uncle.

Dojima startles and recoils back, having not seen Yu coming, the pen slipping down from his fingers on top of the documents scattered on the desk with a dull thump.

-Whoa, goddammit! You almost gave me a heart attack!

Yu gives him an apologetic smile and puts the red folder on his desk. 

-Sorry, I should have coughed or something. 

-Or something. Thanks for fetching these for me again.

-No problem.

Yu casts a glance at Adachi's desk adjacent to Dojima's, noticing how it’s conspicuously empty. If Dojima is on the clock it usually means Adachi is too.

-Where is Adachi-san? Finally not making him work overtime with you? 

Dojima sighs. 

-Well, I will need him once I'm done with this, so… I did tell him he can go get some rest before this however. He must be still in the station, but where exactly I wouldn't know… Why do you ask?

Yu smiles and shrugs. Not like he can tell him an actual reason, might as well go for a half-truth.

-Just wanted to say hello. Haven't seen him in a while. 

Dojima squints at him. There is no way he could know of his and Adachi's borderline clandestine meetings in this station, they took care of that, but these looks make Yu uneasy anyway.

-That so? Well, you can go look for him, just don't go anywhere you're not supposed to be, got it? 

-Got it. 

– 

Yu is wandering the dim halls of the first floor when he passes the door leading to the basement and hears a loud, thunderous clap. 

He freezes dead in his tracks.

Another one. Boom. Boom boom boom.

Having recovered from the sudden startle, he remembers that the basement housed the station's firing range. 

His curiosity already taking the wheel at his legs, he pulls the handle on the door and steps into the stairway, going down. 

Following the sound, Yu easily locates the firing range, which currently has only one marksman practicing. The one he could recognize anywhere even from the back. Tohru Adachi. Right foot forward, carrying most of his weight, slender fingers wrapped around the grip, leaning towards the target, yet still standing firm and rooted to the ground. 

Yu doesn’t know much about guns, but his stance looks like something from a textbook, perfect, measured, very unlike the bumbling and incompetent front Adachi likes to put on.

His suit jacket is, by the looks of it, carelessly discarded on a chair in the corner of the room, Adachi himself sporting just a white shirt, a tie, and a concealed carry holster, tight around his upper body. The shirt is probably a bit too small for him since Yu can clearly see the lean muscle flexing underneath.

Usually messy hair is now even messier, sticking out from under the ear protection earmuffs. Before Adachi can fire another shot into his target, Yu quickly grabs a pair of earmuffs himself and put them on. The world around him gets so much quieter in an instant, as if he’s taken a plunge into a deep pool of water. He watches as Adachi took aim, and his index finger slowly curls around the trigger. Yu sees the target recoil back like from a punch and then the shot still rings pretty loud, but not deafening.

His hearing saved, Yu belatedly realizes that is the fifth round, since Adachi pops out the cylinder from the revolver and starts taking out spent casings. He walks closer and takes a look at the practice target sheet. This one isn’t of those human-shaped ones police stations sometimes carry, but one of concentric circle variety. Yu doesn’t quite get why, but it makes him feel a little bit more at ease. Every bullet hole landed either square in the bullseye or somewhere very close to it. 

Yu decides to make his presence known at last and slowly steps into Adachi’s field of vision, not wanting to spook his friend and also not wanting to startle someone holding a gun. 

Adachi doesn’t quite register that he is here for a few seconds, his grey eyes fixed on him in disbelief, then does a visible double-take, his face contorted in some weird mix of surprise, anxiety and irritation, and almost rips earmuffs from his head, gun still in hand, aiming at the ground. Feeling silly being the only one wearing ear protection, Yu pulls his down as well.

-The hell? What are you doing here?! - he asks, no, demands an answer from Yu.

Well, that’s not how Yu expected it to go. 

-Hi, Adachi-san. My uncle needed something delivered to him from our home and called me so I could fetch it. You weren’t with him when I gave him what he needed, so I went to look for you to say hi.

Adachi’s previously tightly-wound posture relaxes a tiny bit. Funny. Did he think he was in trouble? He then looks somewhere to the side, as if expecting someone to jump him like a jack from the box. 

-Well… Hi? 

Yu smiles a little bit. He finds this awkward caution precious, much like other facets of Adachi’s personality he keeps secret from most people but knows better of showing it too outwardly. Wouldn’t want to embarrass Adachi.

-Yes. Hello.

He chuckles and takes another glance at the target sheet, which is now more of a paper sieve, from how many bullet holes riddle it.

-Hard day at work?

-You could say that. - Adachi sighed. -Listen, if you aren’t-

Yu decides to interrupt him. Flattery never works with Adachi usually, but maybe, this time… Yu has a hunch.

-You are pretty good at this. 

There it is. He can see it. Just a flash, a glimpse of a genuine smile on Adachi’s face. He can tell. There are tiny dimples on his cheeks when he actually smiles. He saw it a few times before, mostly with Nanako. Sometimes Yu envied her supernatural ability to make Adachi smile for real. It submerges as soon as it surfaces, but even after that, Adachi’s face is a tad more open. 

-Oh? Well… I guess I am, yeah... 

A smile of mischief blooms on Adachi's lips out of the blue. What is this about?

-Say… You wanna give it a try? I won’t tell Dojima, promise! 

He pauses and gives Yu a look that almost sears his lungs from inside, although he doubts Adachi meant for it to have such an effect. 

-Mmm... I bet you never even held a real gun in your hands before.

Adachi smirks awaiting his answer.

A real gun? Define "real". But judging by how suddenly excited Adachi was, it was a hobby of his at least, so whatever is legal enough to be used by a high schooler, probably isn't real enough. 

Yu leans on the cold light blue tiles of the wall behind him and fiddles with the earmuffs in his hands. They are old and worn, but sturdy and good enough to be used.

-Hm, no, I didn't. Only an airgun. 

-An airgun huh? How come? Wouldn't peg you as a sharpshooter type. You seem… 

Adachi pauses, looking Yu over with an indecipherable grimace.

-More of a physical guy, huh?

Yu can't tell whether it’s supposed to be a compliment or not. He is right, Yu would prefer a sword to a gun any day… Any day but today, that is. Although that wasn't really the case before he moved to Inaba. 

-I had a marksmanship elective in my city school. It was as good an elective as any and didn't require me to socialize much. I was a bit of a recluse back then, I suppose. 

The cold and stale air of this shooting range is much like the one he remembers from his school's basement. Although it doesn't smell like mold in here. The room is clearly ventilated. Yu closes his eyes, to feel a light draft on his eyelids. As Adachi answers, they fly right open again. 

-You? A recluse? - incredulous, Adachi tilts his head in disbelief, something behind his eyes Yu can't quite name, but makes his heart twitch. - Well, if you say so… How much did you learn on this elective? 

-How to fire an airgun rifle while sitting down. Not very exciting. Oh, and not to point said rifle at other people. 

Adachi snorts.

-Right. Wouldn't expect anything different from those high school teachers… But hey, you're with me now, right? Although… Might be a bit complicated for you. 

Yu shakes his head.

-I'm ready to learn if you're ready to teach me, Adachi-san.

-Well, alrighty then! Lemme go change the target, this one's no good anymore… 

Yu watches him as he steps through a side door to the actual range, the taps of his Junes brand shoes getting quieter as he goes, and pulls another target sheet from a stack that was separate from the other, much bigger one, and clearly used a different paper. Does Adachi actually procure these on his own?  Is it because of some sort of benefit Yu doesn't know about, or because Adachi doesn't like the thought of shooting at people..? 

Whatever the case was, Adachi hangs up the new target, stretching upwards because the strings of the target carrier are just a little bit too high for him. 

Yu can see his back muscles at work again, strained like a tight coil, for just a moment. Then the target’s up, and Adachi leisurely saunters back to the firing lane. 

He watches Adachi the whole time, taking in how the man moves with ease and agility, somehow different from how Yu usually sees him. He realizes something is expected of him, when, after looking at Yu expectantly doesn't work, Adachi beckons him closer with his hand. 

-Come on, space case, don't make me change my mind! 

-Oh! Okay.

Yu steps closer, getting crammed together with Adachi between the walls of a shooting booth that is definitely too small for two men to stand at any sort of respectable distance from each other. Not that either of the two of them particularly cares about respectability. 

-Well, alright, some basic gun safety, let's see… 

Adachi digs his fingernails into the back of his head for a bit, then looks at Yu with one of those goofy smiles of his. 

-Don't point this thing - he slightly waves the revolver in his hands, pointing upward in the air - at people you don't want dead, don't put your finger on a trigger unless you are going to make a shot, like, right now. Aaaand when you aren't making a shot you should put your index finger flat just above the trigger, like this!

He shows him the hand with the gun, rotating it around so Yu can have a good look, and Adachi's fingers are wrapped tight around the handle of the revolver, his index finger laid straight along the barrel. Seems easy enough.

-Got it. 

Adachi's lips curl into an impish grin. 

-I will be the judge of that. Repeat what I just said, will you? 

Is Adachi trying to order him around? This day truly is a treasure trove of finding out new things about him. Yu can oblige, for now, it would only be fair.

-Sure. Don't point it at people, keep the index finger off the trigger unless I'm making a shot. 

-I said don't point it at people you don't want to kill - Adachi clicks his tongue.

-Well, I don't want to kill any people, so for me, that means not pointing it at people at all. 

-Of course you don't… What a smartass! Alright, well, I guess you can be trusted with it…

Adachi grips the revolver by the barrel, and only slightly reluctantly hands it to Yu, handle first. 

Yu's palm wraps around the handle, mimicking the exact hold Adachi had it a moment ago, his index finger finding its resting position just above the trigger. The handle was made from quality wood, with some scored surface in the middle, feeling coarse and secure on his skin. Clearly not a stock part of a cheap police firearm. 

The gun as a whole felt weighty and solid in his hands, a good bit heavier than it looks. The grip is radiating slight but noticeable warmth from where Adachi was holding it. Warm like amber in the sun. Like the sensation of blowing hot air on your hands in the middle of a winter cold snap. Yu suppresses a full-body shiver. 

-I will be careful with it, I promise.  

Adachi only hums, and further leans on the wall behind him, trying to get a better look and give Yu some space. 

-It's empty right now, lemme see how you aim. 

Yu raises a brow at him.

-Uh… any pointers first? 

Another shit-eating grin.

-No. 

Well then. 

He gives it his best effort, gripping it with another hand for stability and lining up the iron sights with the target. Is… is that good enough? He stands still and awaits and sort of reaction from Adachi. 

…And what he hears is barely contained snorting, almost immediately exploding into wheezing laughter. 

-Why… ahaha oh god… this is just… ahahaha oh no, why are you…

He just can't complete his sentence, and Yu turns to look at him, and he can see the blush on his cheeks, the droplets of tears in his eyes, the way he would double over if the confined space allowed for it, the way his fingers dab over the tears, his canines peeking under his upper lip, one of them chipped (doesn't it hurt him to drink all that hot coffee then?), and whatever embarrassment Yu feels over being laughed at he would feel ten times over if it means being privy to something like this. 

-Do you need some help, Adachi-san? I can go get you a glass of water if you'd like. 

Adachi shakes his head, still laughing, and grips Yu's shoulder, as in saying: stay here. That he can do.

Adachi’s explosive laughter slowly winds down, and then he wipes off the tears from his eyes completely and takes a deep breath.

-Dear god you'll be the death of me kid, you know that? Why did you hold it like a sword?! 

Oh. So that's what is so funny. Although now that he thinks about it, it would be completely natural for someone like him, who handles a blade almost on a daily basis now, to hold an unfamiliar weapon like a sword. Not that Adachi would know that, of course. Still, seeing Adachi genuinely laugh is nice, and somewhat involuntarily, Yu gives off a giggle full of mirth. 

-Yeah, maybe I’m not supposed to hold it like that… Hm…

Yu enjoys the way he made Adachi smile and laugh just now. At this very moment, he understands Chie, who will do anything to make Yukiko laugh.

Yu musters his best pleading expression. In an attempt to be funny, at least partially.

-Teach me better… please?

Yu says it and thinks that maybe he came on too strong, just for a moment, as he sees Adachi’s eyes widen in this particular ‘Are you serious?’ look that is the same on pretty much every face. But it’s gone in an instant, and instead, there is one of his stock smiles again. 

-Well, how could I possibly refuse, you said please and all…

His tone is mocking, but his face is deep in contemplation.

-Well, let’s see…

He pauses, arms folded on his chest, but not in anything nearly approaching a defensive gesture. More of a stance of a sushi chef, eyeing a particularly good cut of salmon on the fish market. Yu can feel Adachi’s gaze, running down from his face to his heels, accessing what was wrong and what was right, probably. But he can’t help but internally shiver again. He would sell his soul to have such attention every day. 

-Well, you stand more or less correctly, although you should move your non-dominant foot, which I assume is your left one a bit further back…

Yu jumps at his words and immediately does just that, without even waiting for him to finish talking. He again can see some sort of spark rise to the surface of Adachi’s eyes. There’s an almost imperceptible break in his sentence, although Yu is pretty sure they both noticed it.

-Aaand turn the toe about ten degrees inward. 

Yu quickly slides his toe slightly inward.

-Like this?

-Mhmm… Yes, that should be good. Now, bend your left arm at the elbow and put in on the lower part of the grip, the other hand should be straight. From there line up your shot.

Yu tries his best to follow the instructions. He looks away from iron sights to glance at Adachi’s face, which has a complicated look on it. If he would hazard a guess, Yu would tell he was mildly frustrated. Like when you can’t solve a puzzle.

-Is something wrong?

Adachi sighs.

-There is, but I’m not sure I can describe it.

Can’t describe with words? Yu’s dealt with a lot of indescribable things lately. Surely a thing like the physical position of his body could be described in other ways?

-Can you maybe… Show me the correct way? 

Adachi’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t look displeased anymore, more like he is torn between something or other. In the end, whatever wins in his head, does it with a landslide, because the next second a half-grin makes itself apparent on his face, and he pushes himself away from the wall, back into Yu’s space.

-Show, huh? Are you sure you don't mind?

Why would Yu mind a little practical demonstration of all that tight musculature Adachi apparently been hiding under this dinky jacket? He quickly nods.

-Show, huh… - Adachi repeats himself. -Well, I don't see why not. 

Yu’s synapses probably didn't even have time to fire the thought about handing the gun back to Adachi and moving away so he can show him the correct stance, before he feels one slender but reasonably strong palm between his shoulder blades, pressing gently, and another on his shoulder, moving it further back. His joints make a quick crackling sound, unused to being in such a position. Oh. Show in this way. 

-C’mon, relax! Or your aim will be shit!

Right. He is pretty tightly wound, isn’t he?

Yu really did think he would sit back and watch. Instead, he can feel the pressure of the narrow fingers on his back, shoulders, waist (his oh-so-sensitive waist, he has to summon all his willpower to stay still while Adachi moves it to the right position), forearm, the back of his neck, even. The touch on his hand holding the revolver is so scorching, he is thankful that Adachi taught him to hold his index off the trigger right before this, and that the gun is empty. Does he mind, though? 

No. He finds that he doesn’t mind what is currently unfolding either. In fact, he doesn't mind it a lot. In all actuality, he feels disappointed and even empty when Adachi’s hands leave his body, and the man himself leans back to admire his handiwork. 

-Would you look at that, this is much better! Can you try and remember this position? Something, something muscle memory? 

Yu smiles. Adachi is smart enough to know that’s not what muscle memory is. He is probably trying to goad him into being a ‘know-it-all’ which, Yu’s intuition tells him, is not the right choice in this situation. He does thoroughly commit the stance he is into memory, all but physically opening up his skull and inscribing all the instructions and burning touches on his cortex. 

-Yes, Adachi-san. What’s next?

Again the satisfied spark in his eyes. Yu is pretty sure he narrowed it down. 

-Next, you stand normally and then you assume the… stance I just showed you again.

Yu does as he’s told… Mostly. He takes a chance to stretch his shoulders. No fair if only Adachi gets to show off, right? Then he is in the exact same stance he was a few seconds ago, complete with all the adjustments Adachi provided, aiming down the iron sights. He can’t really look at Adachi’s face this way, so his words come as a bit of a surprise.

-Good. Relax your palms a bit. 

And of course, Yu does it without question. Next, he sees Adachi somewhere very close to his side, simply closing his fingers around the barrel and lifting the revolver from Yu’s hands without much resistance. As Adachi requested, his palms are butter, but the rest of his body remains static, yet relaxed.

Next Yu hears a popping sound, followed by five distinct clicks of metal against metal and another popping sound. All with impressive speed. Showing off to an audience that can't spare a look.

-Okay, gonna give you this with live ammo this time. Let's finally see how good of a shot you are. This piece is double-action, so you don't have to fiddle with the hammer. Just take aim and pull the trigger when you’re ready.

There's very thinly veiled excitement and anticipation in his voice.

Finally, Adachi puts the revolver back into his hands, the amber warmth of his hands still in the grip, his chest leaning against Yu’s back for a second. The man, despite his lithe frame, runs like a muffle furnace. Wouldn't guess how hot it is until you are close enough for it to burn off your fingertips. 

And just when Yu is about to ask, he feels thoughtful hands slip the ear protection on his head, tightly pressing the palms against each ear. Yu looks far into the range. Is this it? Is he allowed to fire?

The next second, a green light Yu hadn't noticed before, lights up, saying GO.

Yu lines up his first shot. The iron sights in his vision swim mostly around the bull’s eye. Now is as good a time as any. His index finger crawls down to the trigger, wraps around it, and presses the cold metal back.

The explosion is loud in his ears, despite the ear protection. It kicks back in Yu’s wrist something fierce, but thanks to Adachi, the stance he is in helps him manage the recoil. His heart is pounding, it startled him so much, and had he not been fighting hell monsters for a good part of the year now, he would have dropped the gun most likely. But Adachi trusted him with it, so he can not, and will not. His grip on the coarse wood of the handle is firm and steady. Whatever got released into his veins with this shot, from jittery and anxious, turns into something warm, thick and heavy. 

His hands go steady, and his head is filled with unexpected calm. He can see a wisp of white propellant smoke rising from the muzzle in front of him and feel its acrid-sweet plastic smell, which reminded him of burnt cotton candy.

Did he even hit the shot? He can't see all that well, but the new black dot on the target that definitely wasn’t there before is situated somewhere between numbers two and one. Out of ten. Pretty good for his first time. 

He can't see Adachi's reaction, for the man at some point moved away from him, somewhere behind his back, but he can feel his presence in the room. His eyes burning a pleasantly scorching and aching mark on the back of his neck like a magnifying glass collecting the sunlight into a single dot of warmth so intense not everyone could withstand it.

Might as well continue giving him a reason to look. 

Pay attention, Adachi-san. 

Yu levels his grip on the revolver further, the warm sensation in his veins supporting the weight of his body, the gun, and the desire to prove himself. 

He lines up another shot.  Three out of ten. He can do better. Yu squints, and forces himself to relax. With steady hands and keen aim, he pulls on the trigger three times in consecutive motion, for that’s how many bullets are still in the chamber.  

Two out of ten. 

One out of ten. 

Each shot is easier than the previous one.

The last bullet pierces the bull's eye, black in the middle of the target, white paper edges frazzled around the rim of his final shot. His toes and fingers tingle, his lungs feel bigger than they actually are. The satisfaction floods his veins with god knows what else his brain had in store for him. It feels like surviving a near-death experience in the TV world, but somehow… good?

He… He did not expect to do this well when he started, but secretly he hoped he would. He inhales, all but swallows sweet-smelling streaks of white smoke, making no attempt to recoil back from them. He returns his index finger back above the trigger. The revolver’s cylinder is empty, save for spent casings, but that is what Adachi told him to do when he isn’t making a shot. 

Yu exhales, lowers the gun, still holding onto it with both hands and turns back expectantly, his gaze landing on Adachi, who was…

Adachi is, he’s standing, no, propping himself up on the wall behind him, mouth slightly open, drawing in heavy but short gulps of air through it, his chest rising and falling only slightly, but visibly enough for Yu on the other side of the room to notice, a stray curly lock of hair stuck to his forehead, damp with a thin mist of sweat, his eyes blown open wide, as if a lens of a camera trying to capture everything in perfect detail, but his face is unreadable. 

If Yu didn’t know about the dangers of wishful thinking, he would assume Adachi looked rapt. But for now, he only files the memory to be processed later and shined a slight smile. 

-I’m done. What’s next?

Adachi just blinks at him for a second, but then unsticks himself from the wall, and comes closer, his gaze wandering between Yu and the target, which now had 5 bullet holes in it. 

-You… -His voice is unusually raspy as if he just woke up. A displeased grimace lurks on his face as he clears his throat and tries again. -You sure you have never done this before? With an actual firearm, I mean. You must be pretty talented , huh.

He utters the word talented as if it was an insult. It oozes some vague pain, pain Yu wants to soothe right this instant. Besides, Yu doesn’t think of himself as particularly talented, so he wouldn’t be lying anyway.

-I wouldn’t say I’m talented, I just practiced a lot back in the city. With an airgun. -Yu smiles again. -Sure, it might not be an actual firearm, but good enough to get some aim going. It’s not like I had anything else to do with my hours except electives and niche hobbies. 

Yet again, there is something deeply vulnerable in Adachi’s eyes, something Yu can’t quite parse and figure out. Yu finds it interesting, that here Adachi is, his defenses almost completely down, he has not seen him this… himself around anyone else so far, and yet he’s still almost impossible to read. 

Like obscuring himself, putting on a mask of obfuscation is a thing he does so often, that the mask has stuck to his skin like a glue trap, almost impossibly difficult to take off without proper tools, and him being willing to sit completely still and let someone tend to his unfortunate situation. 

Yu won’t be able to do it today, to do away with that mask completely. But he is confident he’s made a dent in it large enough to make a lasting impact. He can very well continue to pick at the glue of the mask in the gentlest way possible. 

-So what do I do next, Adachi-san? 

Adachi jumps a bit, distracted by something within himself. His voice as he responds is a mix of oddly quiet and his usual silly charade.

-Next? Well, next you reload it… Let me help you with this…

He picks five rounds from a box on the nearby table like he’s taking pieces of candy, places them in his shirt pocket and steps back into the firing booth. His body expectantly radiates the amber heat. Adachi doesn’t bother taking the gun from him, instead placing his hands on Yu’s and manipulating them like little marionettes. 

-You press the cylinder open, like so- His hands place Yu’s right-hand thumb on the cylinder of the gun and press gently. It pops open with the sound Yu heard before, sliding to the left and revealing the yellow metal of empty casings. 

-This here- He places Yu’s left index finger on a long metal protrusion in front of the cylinder -is an ejector rod, which as the name implies, ejects something, in this case, well, casings.

He giggles at the awful pun. Yu would laugh along, but he thinks nobody else finding his jokes funny is part of the reason why Adachi makes them, so he stays silent to avoid spoiling the fun. Adachi sighs and clears his throat.

-Anyway, you should press it slowly and collect the casings into your hand. I mean, I guess you could just slam it down and let the casings fly everywhere, if you enjoy spending a lot of time on your knees. 

Adachi utters the words and then immediately shuts up. Yu doesn’t think looking at his face right now would be a good idea. 

He looks at Adachi’s face only to find that he is trying his best to look literally anywhere else than Yu right now. Did he really just say that without any intended subtext whatsoever?

Yu loves this. But as much as he loves this, the embarrassment probably doesn't feel that great for Adachi, so he gently pushes down the ejector rod as instructed, and puts the spent casings into Adachi’s palm, closing his fingers around them with his own, as if bestowing a secret gift. 

-Like this, right? 

Adachi is only too happy to ignore what just happened. 

-Yeah, yeah, like this! 

He stashes empty casings in his shirt pocket, right next to his heart. Probably meaningless to Adachi, but Yu will remember this for a very long time. From the very same pocket, Adachi takes out the very much not empty rounds, his pieces of hard candy, and hands them all to Yu. 

-Think you can guess the rest, city boy? 

Yu only hums in response. It’s not rocket science, no? He inserts a round in the top-most slot, and does it four more times, rotating the cylinder between each time, his brain vaguely giving him a hint that it’s the correct way to do it. He is also pretty sure the pointy bits should point away from you. 

-Like this, Adachi-san? 

-Mmhmm. 

Yu is half on his way to assuming a firing stance, or rather the firing stance, since it's the only one he knows, when Adachi grabs him by the shoulder.

-Uh-uh-uh. Let’s try something different, I think you got that one down well enough.

Yu only nods. 

He doesn’t even have time to ask anything, though, because the very next moment he only registers Adachi moving as quick as a viper, and then Yu stands with his left arm twisted behind his back. It doesn’t hurt, since Adachi’s grip is firm yet careful and gentle enough, and not nearly strong enough to overpower Yu. He is, however, curious about what this is about, so he stays still.

Adachi speaks from behind his back, his damp breath hitting the nape of his neck. Yu can't see Adachi, or even feel his amber warmth, only sinewy fingers pressed into his wrist, but he knows he's there. He tries his best to keep his breathing even keel. He could of course just wrench his wrist out of Adachi's grip with ease, but he doesn't want to.

-Say one of your arms is unavailable and you need to take a shot. What will you do?

-I uh, um… I will use only one? To take a shot I mean.  

Adachi giggles behind him, adjusting his grip on Yu's wrist.

-That's right. Let me show you how that one works. 

Adachi nudges and pulls on his hand, too soft to call it manhandling, and turns him so his right side faces the target. 

-Put your right foot forward, and your right hand also, like you're throwing a punch. Reeeally drive your weight into it, y'know? Ack, no, not like that.

His other hand grips his shoulder again, pulling it a little bit back. For some reason Adachi is adamant about holding onto his left wrist because to adjust the position of Yu's gunhand, he comes in really close, nearly flush against him, lifting his forearm from below.

Yu decides to probe the waters again with a little sass.

-Ah, you are so demanding, Adachi-san.  

He hears a huff, which he would describe as both annoyed and amused at the same time.

-Really? Aw, that's too bad… Do you wanna go home?

Yu grins, thankful that Adachi can't see his face through his back. 

-No, I think I can take some more.

And take some more he does. Adachi arranges him into various stances, not letting up until they are perfect, and gets him to fire off his five shots, each time remembering to put on ear protection on Yu's head, making sure that it lays tight and secure against his cranium. 

He feels like a photographer's model, posed and manipulated for a camera by narrow and deft hands. He notices as Adachi puts the spent casings from all attempts but Yu's first into a cardboard box on the table, but his mind draws a blank in trying to ascertain its significance.

All this time he can't figure out what Adachi gets out of this, because this clearly went beyond normal excitement over someone indulging in your niche hobby. Although, they are both birds of a feather, abnormal kin. Yu can feel it. To his knowledge, Adachi isn't a persona user, but he can feel Izanagi get restless inside his heart each time he and Adachi meet. 

After the fifth, or maybe sixth stance, Yu's skin burns from all the touch, the orders, white streaks of gunsmoke in his mouth, the adrenaline in his veins and a pleasant dull buzz in his hands from the recoil. His lungs are full to the point of bursting, but he mustn’t show it. Yet he would ask for more, more touch, more gunsmoke, more spent casings next to Tohru’s heart, more everything .

But an obnoxious beeping rises from Adachi’s discarded jacket, and he stumbles, and he bolts to it, prying the phone from one of the pockets, picking it up in both hands, the sinew and muscle pulling on his fingers visible through the milky pale, almost translucent skin under rolled up sleeves.

They both look into each other's eyes, with, Yu can bet, the exact same thought flashing through their head.

Dojima. Shit.

Adachi hurriedly puts his jacket back on, while reading a message that came in, flipping the phone close and shoving it back into his pocket. 

-Damn, Dojima’s waiting… Well, that was fun kid, see y-

Izanagi is so loud in Yu’s head, he’d think someone fired a cannon right under his ear. 

Act. Now. This is your window of opportunity. 

No need to ask twice, Yu’s fingers grab the fabric of Adachi’s jacket, clinging to it like thistle seeds.

-What?

Now that Yu can take a good look at Adachi he is a mess, his hair’s mostly stuck to his face and forehead, glued to the skin with sweat, Yu feels a slight tremor in the arm he is holding, and Tohru’s eyes are blown wide. But he doesn’t let his mind linger over it.

-Can I have your number, Adachi-san?

Coming on too strong was an anxiety he discarded probably at the very beginning of this meeting.

-Can you have my what.

Tohru’s voice is deadpan, but not displeased or angry. It's more like he can’t believe what just came out of Yu Narukami’s mouth, which, to be honest, has happened quite a bit even before today.

-Your phone number. You’re right, it was fun. We should do it again sometime. It would be easier to arrange if I could send you messages.

-You are so weird, you know that? If I give it to you will you let go of my hand? I need to go to work, you know.

Just now Yu notices that Tohru is tugging his arm back slightly.

-I promise.

Adachi recites the number from memory, and making sure that Yu got everything right and lets go of his jacket, bolting from the room as if a thousand enraged tigers were on his tail. Yu smiles victoriously, clutching the phone next to his heart. Wait, what time was it again?

Twenty minutes after midnight. Well, shit. Hopefully, Nanako won’t say anything to Dojima. Even if she will, though, Yu can think of an excuse. 

—-

Tohru slams the door to his apartment behind himself, and slides down to the floor, cradling his head in his arms. It is four in the morning, he was finally released from the clutches of Dojima and the overtime he made him do. But him being this exhausted to the point of feeling like his soul was about to leave his body for the first time maybe in forever, isn’t Dojima’s fault. 

It’s his stupid-ass nephew. The less he thinks about the brat was probably the better, but his ability to control his own thoughts has been shot to hell by what happened this evening.

Yu Narukami. 

What was he doing? Better yet, what the fuck was Tohru doing? He digs his fingertips into his eyes until white sparks start to dance under his eyelids.

-Why do I do this to myself?

And there he is, talking to walls again. As if taking advantage of the weird-ass situation Narukami put him in and feeling him up under the guise of teaching him firearm technique wasn’t insane enough. No way Narukami bought it. Of course, the stance instructions were legit, Tohru just didn’t have to be so hands-on with it. But no way, right? Just no way the brat thought this was necessary. Then why did he put up this show like he didn’t mind one bit? What the fuck was wrong with him? Was the brat this much of a people-pleaser? Come to think of it, what was wrong with Tohru? Just giving the brat his number? Why did he do this? Why did he do any of these things? 

He remembers what his senses were telling him then. Noting how weirdly buff for his age Narukami was. How none of that no doubt mad strength was used, not even a tiny droplet of it, muscles he could feel through the shirt were completely lax, a clay he could mold into any shape he’d like. But then why is Tohru the one feeling helpless, like he is the one dangling on the strings to Narukami’s every whim? Is this perception even accurate or is he seeing things again?

There is just no plausible deniability here. No way he can just write it off as dudes being bros or whatever. But it doesn’t mean he can’t try. 

He raises his head from his hands and pulls himself up from the floor. In his shirt pocket, he can feel a balance shift. His fingers dig inside it, to retrieve five yellow metal casings. Right. These things. Tohru kept them in the spur of the moment. Seeing Narukami hit that bull’s eye with his first five rounds gave him such a rush that it almost knocked him off his feet like a tidal wave. An exhilaration that made him tremble. Even now, he could feel traces of this feeling, as if imprinted into the brass itself. Maybe if he looked really closely, he would be able to see Narukami’s fingerprints baked into the metal by the heat of the shots.

The rational part of his brain screeches at him to get rid of these. Nothing good can come from indulging in this idiocy.

But…

But the world is so dull, and hostile, and this evening is the first exciting thing that has happened to him since…

He wrangles his mind into not thinking about what he did in spring. With these casings warm in his hands, it is much easier. Why think about his grave sins if he can think about less grave ones, and much more pleasant ones to boot. 

Tossing these little pieces of candy in the bin would just feel wrong and painful. Tohru closes his palm around the casings and his eyes snap shut for a moment. As he opens them, his gaze falls on an empty evidence bag lying on the counter, the one he accidentally brought home from work a few days ago. After a minute or so of just staring at it blankly, he picks it up and searches for a pen with his eyes.

There. There it is. The evidence of his and Narukami’s depravity, a trophy of their degeneracy. Tohru laughs at what he thinks is his best joke yet, and falls down on the bed fully clothed. He lies face down and lets out a quiet groan as he feels his hips thrust into the mattress, but he is too exhausted for this right now. That will have to wait for tomorrow. Aside from this little inconvenience though, he is going to sleep so well tonight.

On the bedside table, there lies an evidence bag with five Nambu 60 ammo casings in it, simply labeled 07/25.