Chapter Text
The air was cold and unforgiving that evening. Bitter winds cut at Osamu's extremities, reddening them with blood as it rushed toward the surface of his skin. It was winter now, and the once bright meadows of the countryside had been forcefully assimilated into the cool gray of the sky. Decaying broken leaves crackled underneath him as he returned to his home, tracking the remnants of their life onto the hardwood. Perhaps he could make something warm to drink—something to quell the empty chasm growing within himself, but he knew it was more than just the cold he was feeling, and he knew he had no desire to alleviate his burden.
Nothing felt the same after Akagi left. After months of travel spent in another's company, he was hardly prepared to feel so alone again, but it was far more than simple loneliness that plagued Osamu; most of all—more than anything else—he felt betrayed.
Suddenly, without warning, he was left to fend for himself in the world of illegal gambling and unending cruelty—the world he believed he'd face with his partner at his side. No note. No call. Nothing other than an empty futon sprawled out beside him and an envelope of money tinged by the faint smell of cigarette ash to even prove his existence.
Osamu couldn't help but lament the loss of his only companion, and the piece of his soul that he took with him when he left. He believed himself a fool to place so much trust in a man with no allegiance to anyone or anything but the thrill of gambling with his own life.
How stupid could he be to put his faith in Akagi to be there when he needed him? How stupid could he be to hope that man ever could have cared for him, even after everything?
How stupid could he be to have fallen in love with him?
The thought gnawed at him, eating away at him until his body became empty and cold. He wondered if it was even worth fighting against. Perhaps he could simply wallow in the agony of it all until his regret would come to swallow him whole. He didn't want to fight it anymore; he didn't want to pretend it was fine anymore.
He was tired.
So tired of that train of thought.
It looped around and around and around, again and again for the five years Akagi had been gone. Always coming back to the beginning—back to that empty cold.
Resting upon his creaky bed frame, he clenched his eyes shut and took in a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the wind outside as he began to drift to sleep. As long as he was here—as long as he was away from it—he was okay.
Abruptly, the sound of approaching footsteps on his doorstep broke his lapse of calm. He quickly wrenched upward and turned to face the door as a series of knocks called him from his rest.
Bypassing his slippers and wearily stumbling towards the door, Osamu gradually came back to himself, wondering who could possibly need him at such an ungodly hour. For whatever reason, the possible answers to that thought made a chill run up his spine.
Resting a hand on the door's knob he carefully twisted and pulled it towards himself slowly as he peeked around the door.
There, standing before him was a manifestation—the very embodiment of all the ill that had plagued him since the man's disappearance.
Osamu backed away, his blood running cold as his body tensed and curled in on itself. He hesitated to take a breath in the man's presence, for fear that the bitter air would make the movement of his lungs go stagnant.
The wind howled and trespassed into his home, cool air seeping in just behind it.
“Osamu.”
He shuddered a bit from the sound of his own name on the man's tongue; he never thought he'd hear it again after everything.
There was an extended silence between them as they simply stared at one another: one in disbelief and the other with an uncharacteristically sorrowful look. Finally, their quiet was broken.
“A-Akagi—?” The utterance escaped him as a faint breath.
The other man stepped forward and shut the door behind himself, allowing himself in before awaiting the invitation to do so. Osamu looked up at him wide-eyed and blinking rapidly as he tried to ascertain the reason behind Akagi's sudden intrusion.
Akagi met his gaze, glaring at him through half-lidded brown eyes, taking in his expression and the question that lay just behind it.
“It's cold,” he said plainly.
Osamu placed a hand on the door, the feel of its cold metal exterior meeting his palm proved its existence. He dropped to the handle, smooth and likewise cold to the touch, then, finally, he turned to face the man behind him, and although he did not reach out, something told him the feel would be just the same.
Once again, Osamu had somehow found himself standing before Akagi in an unforeseen circumstance, the motive of which he was not quite certain. It took a moment for Osamu to notice, but in Akagi's arms was something far more surprising than the presence of the man himself.
Sleeping soundly with eyes gently shut, a small baby rested in the comfort of a basket in the gambler's cradled arms, completely oblivious of the situation that surrounded them.
Osamu's eyes darted to the child, then back up to face Akagi, who'd advanced past him to sit on a nearby chair. He sat calmly—far too calmly for whatever circumstances could've possibly brought him here of all places.
“Whose child is that?” The question hurriedly but quietly escaped him as though if he spoke too loudly, some secret would get out.
Akagi looked down at the baby in his arms, still fast asleep.
“...I suppose it's no one's,” he replied, focusing his eyes on the man standing before him.
“What do you mean by that exactly?” he attempted to clarify.
“Things are rather complicated for her right now.”
This was going nowhere.
Osamu had no idea why Akagi would arrive so suddenly and with a baby no less, but he decided to get right to the point.
“Why are you here, Akagi? I…I never thought I'd see you again.”
He took a seat across from Akagi and fiddled with the fabric at his knees: a nervous habit. Akagi shut his eyes in what Osamu could have sworn was some sort of uncertainty.
“I didn't know what else to do.”
His voice was rather blunt as it always was, but something about it was tinged with a feeling that bordered on anxiousness.
“There was a match I bet my everything on: My money, my blood, and my title as King of the Underworld, all of it in a single match. But a gamble is only worthwhile if the stakes are even.”
Osamu was breathless for a time, unsure how to interpret that information. Once more he attempted to clarify.
“What are you trying to say?”
Akagi shifted in his seat and looked down upon the sleeping infant girl.
“She's collateral.”