A/N. This story contains mention of panic/anxiety attacks, and the attitudes some people can view them with. Reader discretion is advised, if this could be triggering.
Many would say Gin is emotionless. As cool and implacable as the metal for which she is named.
Like her blade, she is cold, quiet, and merciless. Ruthless to those who defy her, an instrument of the Mafia.
Her reputation has spread. She is feared, spoken about only in whispers and rumours, warnings of a silent blade in the night that strikes without mercy and vanishes without a trace. The Mad Dog may be her brother, but it is she who wears the muzzle, for good reason. She is without powers, but far from powerless.
If anyone were to dare to question her about it – and live to tell the tale – they would find out that all the rumours are true. Gin is indeed merciless, ruthless, and utterly obedient to the organisation she has given her life to.
Dead men tell no tales, but the wounds they leave behind paint an all-too-vivid picture, one that is only half the painting. Gin is more than that. There are sides to her that the rumours do not speak of, sides that she keeps hidden from the rest of the world. The real Gin is locked up behind the mask, shown only to a very select few.
Gin is not emotionless, nor is she as cruel as the world has come to believe. She feels many things, and nearly all revolve around the same person: her brother.
First of all, trust. Gin believes in her brother wholeheartedly, from the moment she was born. She has trusted her brother unwaveringly throughout the years, and he has never let her down. When he left to go scavenging for scraps in the slums they called home, she trusted that each time, he would come back to her. When his power awakened and he came home one day with a ink-black shadow curling around his feet, she trusted him when he told her that she was the one person it would never touch.
When the young man covered in bandages came to him and offered to take the two of them to a place of safety, where they would never want for food, or shelter, or warm clothes ever again, she trusted Akutagawa when he promised her they would be safe. And so, she left the only home she had ever known, without a backward glance.
Suspicion.
Gin has had plenty of reason to feel this over the years. Never towards Ryuunosuke, no, but to those around him. She was suspicious of strangers who passed by, offering words of comfort or pennies tossed on the ground. She saw behind their simpering smiles and pretences of piety, knew that their honeyed words betrayed far more sinister feelings. She may have been too young to know the true desire of their hearts and bodies, but she knew she wanted no part of it.
The strongest cause of suspicion came in the form of the ability user who offered an escape, a place of safety away from the slums. Gin trusted her brother's judgement, but still she could not help but wonder what lay hidden behind the lazy smile. She decided to reserve her judgement, but still she worries what his true motive may be.
Frustration. This feeling was all too common at first, when Gin and her brother arrived at the Mafia, and their abilities were assessed to 'determine their worthiness'. Or so Hirotstu-sama told them, on behalf of the shadowy leader who didn't bother to reveal himself. Or couldn't, she found out later; the boss had been too ill to move from his bed. Small consolation, but the rejection stung all the same.
Why was she born without anything special, when her brother's power was so strong?
When it became apparent that she would never unlock latent abilities, that she was stuck as an ordinary human, Gin threw herself into training, practising her moves relentlessly until they became second nature. Failure was not an option, and her body betraying her was not to be tolerated. Especially with the new recruit, a similarly untalented cocky redhead, egging her on, or jeering at her when she lost their bouts.
But when she won, or completed a mission not just successfully but perfectly, a new emotion took its' place.
Pride.
A happier feeling, one gained from the knowledge of a job well done, and the acknowledgement of one's prowess in achieving it. Like all members of the Port Mafia, Gin takes great pride in the accomplishment of her work, and the skills she has honed to carry them out.
Most of all, she is immensely proud of her brother, and the fearsome reputation he has gained as one of the most powerful ability users around, and certainly the most feared. Killing is not, perhaps, the best action to be proud of, but in a world of dog-eat-dog, it's the one most guaranteed to get you ahead.
She's come a long way from the streets she left behind, but there are some feelings even now that Gin will never entirely be rid of.
Uncertainty, for one.
Rarer now, but as a child Gin knew this feeling every day. The worry of not knowing where her next meal was coming from. The fear that however much she trusted her brother, however much faith she had in his abilities, today would be the day that saw that trust fail.
Until he proved every day that he could conquer it, showing time and time again that he would not be beaten. Until the outcome of every fight was no longer unsure, but certain, victory.
Nowadays, Gin's uncertainty takes other, lesser forms. Now that she has the luxury of being able to discover herself, no longer bound by hunger and desperation, she has found that uncertainty can come from the most unexpected places.
There is the awkwardness of being praised for her looks, on the rare occasion she ventures out without her mask. Often mistaken for a boy, she is unused to being complimented on her femininity, and each time she receives such comments her shyness takes over, bathing her cheeks in a glow of pink.
She is unsure how to act around other girls. Like her, Kyouka is a tool, seen as nothing more than the operator of a useful skill, though Demon Snow is far more powerful than she can ever hope to be. Kouyou-san acts like an older sister, but with no experience of such things, Gin sees her more as a mentor, not family. Another commander of the Black Lizards, Higuchi, like Gin, has no ability, so she ought to feel some companionship towards her, but Gin can't help feeling a little strange about the woman's idol-worship of her brother.
Tachihara, too, is a cause of uncertainty, and irritation, in equal measure. As a fellow member of the Mafia, and, like Higuchi, a commander of the Black Lizards, he demands, if not respect, at least some cordiality, but his behaviour can be very testing at times. He acts tough and obnoxious, but Gin has seem him show surprising care towards his friends. She still isn't quite sure what to make of his teasing and snipes, especially when they cross the line from sneers into…what? She doesn't know, but part of her wants to find out.
From this, comes another emotion: curiosity. Gin is eager to learn about the world around her, to see the things she could never even have dreamt of before. She is hungry for knowledge, and like the other orphans the Mafia takes in, she devours the lessons Hirotsu and Kouyou teach her. Ougai's lessons are not so pleasant, but knowing how to inflict pain without bringing death is a necessary skill for any torturer to have, so Gin swallows her bile and absorbs his lectures without complaint.
There's something off about the doctor, Gin thinks, and she tries not to be alone with him too long, especially when he stares at her slight body with an oddly intense look in his eyes. No-one will ever say anything, but they all know Mori's desires are a step too far, even for an organisation synonymous with evil itself.
Evil.
It's not a word Gin would choose to describe herself, but there is no denying that when it comes to a person's character, actions always speak louder than words. There are things she has done in the past, things she continues to do every day in the name of her organisation, that she will never be able to erase. It's the harsh, brutal truth of the world she has affiliated herself with, the stark reality of being a member of society's underworld.
It's a fact that Gin is forced to see the evidence of every day, in every mission, from the smallest delivery job to the large scale eradications of those the bosses wish to wipe out. The victims may change from day to day, but some things always stay the same.
The most common feeling is fear.
The terror in her victims' eyes is something Gin doesn't think she will ever be able to get used to.
The look of hopeless desperation that comes from knowing without a doubt that they are staring at their death, and there is nothing they can do to escape or avoid it. She saw it many times, growing up, in the fights and brawls that were an all too regular occurrence in the slums.
Some people would do anything for the chance to live another day, fighting to the death over a heel of bread, the meagre protection of a doorway, or a higher position in the street rat gangs.
Gin has felt that fear herself many times, the fear that death is just around the corner. It presented itself in every missed meal, every scramble to escape the detection of the police or anyone bigger, stronger and more desperate than her.
She feels it every time her brother has an attack, when he doubles over from the force of his coughing, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth in a futile attempt to mask the sound. A hand that comes away speckled in tiny red pinpricks, the colour standing out starkly on death-pale skin.
She is scared that this is one battle that her brother cannot win, not with wits, or force, or power. Even Rashoumon is helpless to protect its' master against his own body, the lungs that have been forever damaged by breathing in the damp, freezing air of mud-soaked streets.
If Akutagawa feels the same fear, he keeps it very well hidden. Everyone is scared of death, no matter how they try to cover it up with laughter or scorn. Except maybe Dazai, with his inane fixation on suicide, but Gin has never been able to determine if that is just another one of his quirks or the one thing he may actually be sincere about.
Maybe he doesn't want to acknowledge the weakness. Ability users often suffer from hubris, and neither Dazai nor her brother have ever liked admitting defeat.
That pride can come at a cost, though. Gin knows the price her brother pays for the crimes he has committed; the price they all pay, though no one ever speaks of it.
The nightmares that plague their sleep, filling their dreams with blood and pain, the screams of dying men and women stabbing their ears like a thousand needles. The guilt that stabs into them in the dark of the night, forcing hot tears to run down their faces like tracks of molten lead. Everyone deals with the consequences of their actions in different ways – some take to the streets and pace around like caged animals, some try their hardest to purge those feelings from their minds. Some, especially new recruits who have not yet learned how to harden their hearts, turn to more drastic measures. It's not hard to find distractions in the underworld, not when the Mafia controls the supply.
Mori's drugs can only do so much, and even those are not without their own demons.
In some cases, the nightmares spill over to waking hours. Gin remembers the horror she felt the first time she made a kill, when the realisation that she was a murderer hit her like a rock. The knife clattered to the ground with a tinny clink, and she had to cover her mouth with bloodstained hands to stifle the sobs that rose up to fill her throat. She remembers being unable to sleep, paralysed by the vision of the dead man's face haunting her thoughts.
Even during the day, his ghost seemed to lurk around every corner, his unseeing eyes a haunting reminder of what she'd done, the life she had taken and with it, her last hope of saving her own.
If she thought she was bad, though, Gin knows Akutagawa has it a thousand times worse.
The first time he had an attack, Gin honestly thought he was dying.
It was an ordinary evening, they were returning from a mission just like any other. Yet another dispatch of some man the Mafia had caught smuggling goods without permission. Nothing either of them hadn't done dozens of times before. Ryuunosuke had been silent throughout the journey, but as reticence was hardly against the norm for him, Gin had thought nothing of it. He was tired, he had a lot on his mind, he was thinking of the next mission or nothing at all. Figuring he just wasn't in the mood for talking, Gin was content to let them walk in companionable silence, without the need for words.
Until the shaking started.
Imperceptible at first, Ryuunosuke's shoulders had started trembling, building up until his whole body was wracked with uncontrollable shivers. Gin hadn't noticed that he was no longer beside her until a crash alerted her to the fact. Whirling around, she saw her brother had collapsed against one of the massive cargo containers lining the docks, holding himself up against the corrugated metal.
An unseen attacker? Had the man had accomplices after all? Drawing her blade with lightning speed, Gin scanned her surroundings. As far as she could see, they were the only two people around. Not that a sniper would be hiding in plain sight, that would rather defeat the purpose, but if there were no enemies, what had caused her brother's bizarre reaction?
Still holding her blade ready to strike at a moment's notice, Gin hurried to her brother's side. Ryuunosuke's body was still shaking, his eyes wide and glassy like those of an animal caught in a trap. He didn't seem to recognise her, flinching away from the blade with a whimpered gasp.
"Get it away! Get it away from me!"
Realising he meant the blade, Gin hurriedly complied, sheathing the weapon back at her hip. She took a step back, trying to assess her brother's condition.
His skin, already pale, was clammy, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Was he sick? Had he contracted some sort of illness, that was only just now showing the symptoms? No, surely he would have shown some sign by now, there were no illnesses that Gin knew of that would show these signs within such a short space of time. What, then?
She should call someone, a doctor, someone who could help, she should-
Dazai! He'd know what to do! Yes, he could help, his ability could cancel out the effects; it must be something supernatural, with the way her brother was acting. Pulling out her phone, Gin pressed the buttons in rapid order, frantically launching into a plea before he even had a chance to respond.
"Can't…breathe…"
Shoving the phone back into her pocket, Gin hurried back to her brother, kneeling down to where he had collapsed, his legs having given out on him. Even in the short time it took to make the call, his condition had become worse. His chest rose and fell with heaving breaths, and he raised a hand to clutch at his neck, tearing the pristine white fabric of his cravat in his urgency to draw breath. Behind him, Rashoumon came to life, writhing around in search of the cause of its' master's distress. But there was nothing in sight; why was he acting so oddly?
"There's nothing you can do."
Turning to the voice, Gin felt a surge of relief at the sight of the mafioso protégé, bandaged as usual and with an almost bored look on his face.
Relief turned first to confusion, then anger as Gin absorbed the meaning of his words.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her soft voice edged with quiet wariness.
Dazai shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling lazily as he replied.
"What I said. It's a panic attack, there's nothing you, or I, can do about it. He'll get over it soon. It happens. Nothing to worry about." He looked up, gazing at the sky as the moon sun sank down beneath the horizon, bathing their faces in a wash of red and gold.
Gin nodded, a little reluctant at how blasé Dazai seemed to be taking the situation, but at least she knew her brother wasn't injured. Indeed, his breathing seemed to be easing now, the tremors dying down into occasional shudders. She put her arms around him tentatively, ready to draw away if he rejected her touch, but he seemed to relax into the embrace. As she held him, his breathing began to calm, heart slowing to a more regular pace.
"You shouldn't bother, you know."
Startled, Gin looked up to where Dazai was standing, staring up at the sky with his hands in his pockets. His tone was so casual she wasn't sure she'd heard him right, at first.
"What?"
"You heard me." As his eyes met hers, Gin couldn't suppress the shiver that ran across her skin. She'd never seen his eyes with such a cold look in them, and it was so at odds with their usual warm, chocolate hue, that all she could do was stare at him in disbelief.
She was distracted from saying anything further by Akutagawa squirming in her arms. Regaining his senses, he sat up, pushing her away and ignoring her protest of surprise.
Slowly, he climbed to his feet, stopping Gin's offer for help with his usual glare. Using the container for support, he stood to face his mentor.
"You're right. I apologise for showing such weakness. I assure you, it won't happen again." Akutagawa's voice was back to its' usual sibilant hiss, but both the mafioso could detect the lingering trace of panic, and shame.
Dazai raised an eyebrow, regarding his protégé with a mixture of boredom and pity. "It will," he said. "But if you let it get the best of you, that's it. The Mafia has no place for cowards."
"He's not-!" Gin retorted, but was stopped by another glance from her mentor. A glance at her brother showed that he, too, was shaking in anger at the slight, but had the sense to hold his tongue.
"Well, looks like you're all better now. I'll be off, then. Don't be too late getting back, or Hirotsu-san will be mad at you!"
Just like that, Dazai was back to his usual carefree attitude, waving goodbye with a cheerful grin.
Completely thrown off by his whirlwind change in behaviour, Gin could only stare at his retreating back. She shared a look with her brother, narrowing her eyes in a silent question. A barely perceptible shrug, but it was enough.
Between one breath and the next, she charged. Drawing her blade in one swift, smooth motion, she flew forward, covering the distance between them with a leap. The dagger ended up a hair's breadth from Dazai's throat, an unseen knife leaping into her other hand with a flick of her fingers.
"Oh? What's this? Little Gin shows her claws." The mocking tone stung, but not nearly as much as the utter dismissal implicit in his complete lack of surprise. Did he really hold that little regard for her threat?
"Do it."
The command had her hesitating, though thanks to her training, her hand remained perfectly steady.
A low chuckle sounded from Dazai's throat; Gin felt the ripple as it bobbed against her blade.
"What are you waiting for? It's what you want, isn't it? Do it."
Unsettled, Gin lowered her hand instead. She held the knife in a ready grip, still pointed towards him but no longer on the offensive. Dazai turned around, and Gin took an involuntary step back at his expression. White hot contempt blazed in his eyes for a fleeting moment, before his face was once again wreathed in his trademark sunny smile.
"Very good! You didn't hesitate at all, if that had been a real attack, I'd have ended up dead!" Gin froze at the hand that reached out to her, trying not to flinch as it landed on her head to ruffle her hair.
Dazai continued smiling for a moment, before dropping his hand back into his pocket.
"Well, as fun as this has been, kiddos, I've got work to do. I'll see you back at HQ. Don't be too long now! Remember, Hirotsu-san is waiting for your report. So, see you~!" With that parting cheery remark, the mafioso turned and started walking away, raising one hand in a lazy wave.
Thrown for a loop for the third time in almost as many minutes, Gin lowered her shoulders in defeat. She would never understand her mentor's many, ever-changing moods, and that one move had shown her quite clearly that she would never be able to get the drop on him.
Behind her, Akutagawa shrugged gracelessly, as if to say, what can you do?
She didn't know, but as she watched the retreating figure of her mentor fade into the distance, Gin felt a new emotion work its' way into her heart.
Hatred.
"I'm leaving."
The words fell starkly into the room, leaving a cloud of silence in their wake. The mafioso stopped what they were doing to stare first at each other, then at the one who had dropped such devastating news.
Chuuya was the first to regain his tongue.
"Leaving what?"
Dazai gestured to the people gathered in front of him, the warehouse they were standing in.
"This. Us. The Mafia."
"The hell you are, you bas-" Scowling, the petite ginger made as if to lunge at his rival, but was stopped by the sight of Hirotsu raising his hand in warning. Barely visible, he shook his head, commanding his subordinate to stand down.
"To go where, exactly?" he asked, his tone as polite as always, but with a hint of steel.
The answer was anything but expected.
"The Armed Detective Agency. They're looking for staff, so I thought I might apply. I put in my resume, and they accepted." Blunt, harsh, uncompromising. The statement echoed through the crowd, leaving them stunned for a moment before they erupted in chatter, protests and demands alike overlapping like a flock of startled birds.
Hirotsu raised his hand again, this time for quiet, and the chatter ceased immediately.
"I see. I don't suppose there's anything I can say to change your mind?" he asked delicately, sounding more like a host discussing plans to stay to dinner than a Don talking to a mafioso.
Dazai blinked once, slowly. That was all the confirmation the old man needed. Smoothing the lapels of his immaculately tailored coat, he replied.
"Very well, then. You may go, no one will try to stop you. But mark my words, boy, the moment you leave this room, you turn your back on us for good. You know the rules; you will never be able to rejoin our ranks, and there is no holding back when it comes to traitors. If you cross that threshold, you do so with the full knowledge of the consequences. Do you accept these terms?"
"I do."
Hirotsu nodded.
"Then go. And know that the next time we meet, it will be the last."
Empty threats, but no one said a word. Everyone knew that Dazai's ability rendered theirs useless, and even the ungifted could never hope to beat him in hand-to-hand combat. It was an unspoken truth that Dazai was unkillable by any combative means, supernatural or otherwise, despite his fixation on suicide.
He took one last look around the room, his gaze passing from face to face. His eyes lingered briefly on Chuuya, then shifted to encompass Akutagawa and Gin. An unreadable emotion flickered across his face briefly, before it was smoothed over by his usual calm, serene smile. Without another word, he turned and began walking away, past the rows of black-clad men and women standing in line to either side.
Footsteps echoed in the empty space, each step louder than the gunshots of his previous trade, but Dazai kept walking, continuing out the door without a backward glance. His shoulders were relaxed, not set; his back not rigid, but slack. He carried himself as casually as if he were walking through a park, far from the posture one would expect of a man leaving his previous life behind.
It was either a testament to his transient nature, or one last jab to the organisation he was abandoning, but either way, as he continued to saunter down the path, his figure growing smaller with every step, Gin felt the red-hot threads of hatred curl themselves around her heart, her stomach filling with lead with each passing moment. Disappointment and betrayal rose in equal measure, and she fought to keep her emotions from showing on her face. Some small part of her understood, and even admired, the resolve he had shown in actually being able to leave, to find a new life for himself away from the pain and bloodshed they saw every day, but it was drowned out by one overwhelming thought that ran around her head.
Why weren't we good enough?
It's been several years since that day, and Gin has long since come to terms with Dazai's betrayal. There's no point holding a grudge against someone like him, especially when she sees how happy he is in the Agency now.
She still regrets his decision at times, like when the man-tiger appeared and the Agency took him in. Akutagawa was furious at the boy's special treatment, hating the way Dazai took him under his wing, praising and teasing him in equal measure just to make it undeniably clear which apprentice now holds his favour.
Chuuya leapt at the chance to get his own back when the opportunity to capture his rival presented itself, but those two have always had a strange relationship, and Gin was content to let him have his fun.
Then the Guild showed up, complicating things further and turning the city into a three-way confusion of the struggle for power, money and maintaining order. Ryuunosuke and Atsushi were forced to become, if not friends, at least temporary non-enemies for the time being.
As usual, Gin was on the sidelines for that battle, her prowess in combat near-useless against such talented enemies. All she could do was watch, and wait, and hope her brother would be alright.
There was that business with the stroller, a moment of bizarre comedy amongst the fighting. Gin remembers the look on Higuchi's face when she saw the three of them standing on the plaza, Tachihara uncharacteristically panicked and Hirotsu looking away with pointed distaste. Looking back on it now, she can see the funny side of it, though at the time she had felt confusion more than anything.
It's over now. The dust has settled, the skies have cleared, and the combatants have retreated to celebrate victory and lick their wounds. The battle isn't over, not by a long shot, but for now, at least, there is time for Gin to stand at the river bank and watch the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon, bathing the landscape in brilliant hues of red and gold.
She stands a moment longer, letting the last rays of the sun wash over her face, before tugging the mask back up over her mouth and turning to head for home. Once more, she becomes the assassin, nothing more than a blade in the night, the sister of the Mad Dog and commander of the Black Lizards. A force to be reckoned with, an enemy to be feared.
But she is so much more than that. She is all of this, and more. People may not take the time to look past the fearsome reputation, the persona the world has created for her, but as long as she can continue to take strength from the one person who means the world to her, Gin doesn't mind about any of it.
He knows, and that is enough.