"Before I start, I need to make it clear that I will be as honest as I possibly can, but some things I can't tell you."

"What do you mean?" I frown across the small table between us, the typical city noises more quiet at such a great height. It takes a bit of effort not to just blurt out 'but you promised!' for the umpteenth time.

"I mean that as much as I want to, there are some things I can't tell you or that I will have to gloss over, and I need you to understand that it's not out of spite or stubbornness — it's for your own safety. Can you accept that? Otherwise my lips remain sealed, second round of promises and hickey reparations or not."

I mull his ultimatum over before shrugging my agreement, figuring it's better than nothing and that I can try and wheedle him for more information later. Hisashi has always had a hard time saying no to me — I'm hoping this still holds true.

"Okay," he blows air out of his cheeks. "Where to begin, hmm…Well. You might not have ever thought of this, but I wasn't always rich." I blink at him rather blankly. Okay. I'm not sure why this is relevant, but okay, yes, go on. "My family is…not good, Chihiro." he scratches the back of his head in what looks like embarrassment which has me considering if armageddon is upon us, because I've never seen Hisashi embarrassed before. Looks like this weekend is shaping up to be one full of emotional firsts — crying, embarrassment.… what's next, modesty?

"'Not good'? So, they're bad? Like, kick the dog and give out dental floss for halloween kind of bad?"

"Noo…more like sell you drugs, embezzle your money away and then shoot you when you try to go to the police kind of bad."

"Um."

"Yeah." he somehow manages to crack a smile at the look on my face. "My Grandfather was a good man. Very well known, he gained his power through hard work and giving back to the community, but as he got older he fell on hard times, financially and health wise. My father decided to take over the household and bring the family in a "new direction", and by the time my grandfather recovered, rather miraculously, it was too late. My father and, through him, my family-name, had become the founder and leader of one of Japan's biggest crime syndicates."

"Your dad's a yakuza boss." Holy shit.

He nods. "I was born into and raised in the Kaonashi Gang. I was taught that you can never have enough: enough drugs, enough money, enough respect and power. If I ever showed even a hint of hesitation, I was beaten. If I ever showed an ounce of mercy — beaten. I learned quickly. By the time I was nine I knew how to make a mark, how to kill a man a dozen different ways, and was an active member in gang activity — a rising star, according to my father." He laughs bitterly.

"I was a monster and I hadn't even hit puberty yet. My mother died when I was small, my grandfather had retreated to some unknown and secluded place to escape what we had become — I had no one to watch over me or teach me differently. I was like this and with no regrets for…a long time. Longer than I ever want to admit. I did terrible, terrible things, Chihiro. There was nothing human about me, that's how it seemed." He pauses here, seeming pensive. "Until I met a girl." his eyes light up at some memory that must be playing through his mind.

"She was…well, lets just say that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she completely blindsided me." He now turns his attention fully to me, a soft smile on his lips, "She was scared, impulsive, but also fiercely loyal and kind to a fault; innocent and sweet and lost." The smile turns mildly bitter, "She fell in love with someone else. I tried — I tried to share my affections with her, as they were, but she did not want them. I was…less than understanding. I did some awful things, I put her in more than one dangerous situation, yet despite all of that, she continued to treat me with true kindness. Treated me as a true friend. She forgave me, and through her efforts, I was able to leave the Kaonashi. She saved my life; my soul." Again, he pauses, but I can't read the emotions in his eyes this time around and I am afraid that if I ask, my voice will break whatever spell has fallen, coaxing this story out of him in a stream.

"I went to apprentice with an old woman who lived deep in the country, away from the city, the violence, the greed, the crime. It was hard, honest work, and the woman was kind, but after awhile I began to feel restless. The same kind of restlessness I got when too much time passed between gang ordered jobs. I got scared, scared that that monster was still in me, and I ran. I made my way from town to town doing odd jobs here and there to ensure I had food in my belly and somewhere to sleep at night, but I faired quite poorly — the only skills I had, I refused to use, as they all dealt with death and corruption. Eventually, I decided to try and look for my grandfather. A few years passed, I learned how to earn money in ways that did not involve threats and knives, and I finally found him.

He answered his door and when he saw me, he wept. I had never seen someone cry for me, never been shown that level of care since the girl who first saved me, and after years of struggling on the streets…" he clears his throat roughly. "I forgave him for leaving me to that life. I couldn't not. In turn, I spent the next few months loved and happy — I finally had a family, a real one, however small. But what goes up must come down, right? My father finally tracked me down, and I had led him straight to my grandfather. My father worried that grandad's name still meant something, that he would try and take over the gang." he snorts, the noise indicating clearly how likely that would have been. "He killed him." he shrugs and my eyes bulge slightly. "Well, he had him killed — God forbid he do his own dirty work — and ordered the goons who did it to pick me up and bring me back home while they were at it. I kindly denied the invitation and killed them both; it seemed I was only returning the favor." his eyes cut to me, and I can tell that he's monitoring my expression, looking for the revulsion and hatred he expects me to be feeling. And I do feel horrified but, strangely, not for the man sitting across from me who just admitted to committing murder. Twice. Instead, I sense the justice in those deaths, however twisted, and only feel horrified that Hisashi's own father was this cruel, amazed that Hisashi grew up under such terrible circumstances and isn't a sociopath. Mostly, though, I just feel sorry and very, very sad. Hisashi recognizes this and his shoulders slump in clear relief.

"Always seeing the good in me, aren't you?" he murmurs softly, but before I can respond he continues his story. "My grandfather had fallen financially, as I said, but he was still by no means poor. After his "passing", I inherited his estate, moved to a small city known for it's low crime rates, our city, and founded Hon Inc. The rest you know, and that brings us to today. Or, I guess, last night." He squints into the distance, as if he can look past the towering buildings around us to the sky's natural horizon. "The monster I felt stirring at the old woman's house…he's still there. I keep him buried, deep inside, but it's like an instinct, a compulsion, and being in this type of environment dredges it back up to the surface. I feel like a dog, trained and conditioned to react a specific way given certain circumstances, and the city is that circumstance, the yakuza mobster that conditioned characteristic. No matter how hard I try to distance myself from that part of who I am, certain things trigger it to come back full force." I reach out and grasp his hand in mine, giving silent support. "But the worst part, Chihiro? The worst part of this whole messed up damn thing is that I know it. I know it's happening, I feel this darkness rising up in me, and I'm helpless to stop it. I feel the me I've worked so hard to become — the one I've starved for, bled for, killed for — the me that girl knew I could be — slipping away and being replaced by aggression, greed, desperation, and I can't stop it. I become the one thing I despise: my father." he shudders and I struggle to imagine what that feels like, losing yourself to something you hate; becoming the one person you never want to be like and being unable to stop it. He voices the thoughts in my head: "Having that awareness makes it that much more excruciating, makes it that much more worse as the additional stress and anger cause me to lash out more, act more unbalanced, makes me more mean. Makes the monster rise faster." He hangs his head, "I realize that after last night this might all seem anti-climatic, but —"

"Stop. Don't even finish that sentence." my hold on his hand turns fierce, "Don't you dare and diminish your feelings. Are you kidding me right now? You literally have been through hell and back, as a child, an adolescent and an adult, and you did so essentially all on your own. Of course that will leave scars, of course that will continue to affect you. Why would that be anti-climatic? Do not feel like you have to diminish the legitimacy of your traumas and their effects on you, Hisashi. Never do that. Pain and sorrow is relative, but even then yours would have been debilitating to so many. Honestly I think it's a bit of a miracle you came out of all of that so well adjusted."

"But I'm not well adjusted. I almost beat a man to a pulp yesterday and then had an emotional breakdown."

I shake my head, "There is literally nothing wrong with having a good cry. And I'm not excusing your behavior towards that guy, but people have done far worse for far less."

"How is that not an excuse?"

"It's perspective. While what happened was not okay, feeling guilty about it will not make it better — you have to acknowledge why it happened so that you can work to avoid such outbursts again in the future. Disparaging the credibility of your feelings and downplaying what you went through does nothing to help you."

"Is that according to the psychiatrist in you?" he asks somewhat bitterly — his self-censure is too strong to allow him to accept my words; he does not feel worthy of grieving and healing.

"I don't have to be a psychiatrist to know that you lived through some messed up shit and managed to come out of it a legitimately good person, to know that even though you messed up, that doesn't make you bad." I can't help but scoff before continuing more kindly. "I know it was very difficult to talk about your past, and I want you to know that I am honored that you trust me enough to share it with me. I am not trying to psychoanalyze you here, I am just responding as a friend who loves you. Hisashi, I am not judging you, I am not coddling you, I'm just telling you the truth, because that is what you deserve to hear: I don't know how you made it this far. I don't know how you are so sweet and kind, so sure of yourself, with all that you have seen and done. But I am so happy, because you mean so much to me, and you wouldn't be, well, you, if you hadn't had to live through all of that. If I could snap my fingers and magically change your past, even if it meant we never met, would I? Of course. Anything to spare you that pain. But there is no such thing as magic. So I can only be thankful that you are so resilient and that I managed to stumble into your life and you were too stubborn to let me kick you out of mine."

His eyes soften and he covers our clasped hands with his other. "When we were together, I knew that all the shit I had been through was worth it. Every day I woke up tangled up in bed with you was a day I thanked whatever God had brought me to that point in life. But now?" I bite my lip and look away feeling horrid. "I'm not trying to guilt you, Chihiro, though that's exactly what it sounds like. I'm just saying — before, the thing that kept me going in life, that gave me purpose, was you. Now I have nothing, just money." he laughs bleakly.

"We might not be romantically involved anymore, but I'm still here." I murmur, "I wasn't before — I was stupid and selfish — but I am now. That doesn't matter, though, because you don't need me to make your life worthwhile, Hisashi." My next words have sat heavily in my mind for weeks now, the same words I have comforted myself with now, hopefully, bringing comfort to my friend as I infuse them with as much love as I can. "You are enough." I punctuate each word with a squeeze of my hand. Standing without breaking that clasp, I move forward and slowly lower myself onto his lap with a sharp look that has him chuckling softly. Once I am convinced that he will not be pinning me to the table or something, I reach up and gently pinch his chin between my free finger and thumb. "You are more than enough. And while you don't need me to make your life worthwhile, I think you might need me to help you remember that. So I swear to you, Kin Hisashi, that I will always be your friend — I will always be here to hold you when you are sad; to remind you that you are smart, funny and driven; to remind you that you are loved for who you are, not what you are; I will listen to your stupid jokes and laugh despite myself; I will put up with your cheesy one liners and attempts and flirting, your silly pet names and inappropriate remarks; I will kick your ass when you are being one yourself and stand up for you in those rare moments when you are not strong enough to do so yourself. I will help you to work through this trauma, not as a psychiatrist, but as a friend, and as a friend I will tell you every single day that you have worth and you deserve happiness of your own making, not somebody else's — not even mine. This I, Ogino Chihiro, swear to you." By the end of my lengthy speech, my voice is wobbly, as is the smile I give Hisashi, but he is speechless. He only gazes back at me, eyes blown wide with so many emotions I can't read them all, though I pick out shock and disbelief. "I swear it." I repeat with a fervent whisper, desperate to quash those self-critical emotions.

His eyes shutter closed at that and he lets out a quivering sigh. "I don't deserve you." he chokes out.

I shake his chin rather roughly, angry at his words. "Nobody deserves friendship, they earn it, and you have earned mine completely and fully. What people deserve is to live their lives feeling fulfilled, and I'll be damned if one of the few people I know who truly deserves a satisfied life does not get it." He nods, but it is aimlessly done, not in form of agreement — he is overrun with emotion and simply acknowledging that I have spoken. Taking it as my queue, I stand and gently pull him to his feet. "Come on, dummy. We have a few hours before our first meeting. Let's go be tourists."

"But what if I — what if I start to go over that edge again?" he sounds mildly panicked.

"Then I will pull you back."

"How?"

"I know I've been emphasizing our friendship this whole time, but psychiatrist here, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

"And worse comes to worst I have a tranquilizer or two in my bag I can shoot you up with." He turns to me with a horrified look on his face which quickly becomes contemplative and almost approving. "That was a joke." I hurry on. "It will never come to that. Trust me."

The muddy thoughts clear from his face, and when he focuses on me, it is with a clarity that I haven't seen since we boarded the plane yesterday. "With my life."

My answering smile is as lovely and bright as his own.

.

xxxx

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Strolling through the Ginza district and past stores which have me worrying about my bank account without even going inside, I keep my arm tucked firmly through Hisashi's. His jaw is clenched, his shoulders drawn, but so far there have been no outbursts. The one time he came close was when another shopper knocked into his shoulder, but before Hisashi could open his mouth to yell at him, his free hand forming into a fist, I had wrapped my arms around his waist. It took a moment, but after a few tense seconds he had turned away from the apologetic man and his wife and wrapped his arms around me. We stood in our embrace until I felt he had returned fully to himself, and stepped away, linking our arms again and continuing on as if nothing had happened. He had looked at me thankfully and tried to buy me a purse which cost more than my last months rent. When I refused, he nearly begged me to let him buy me something, and with an eye roll I told him that he could get me one thing and one thing only, but only so long as it cost less than 1800 yen (about 15 USD).

As a result, I now stand next to a small cart on the shopping district's outskirts as Hisashi haggles with the stocky old woman manning it. He seems to be enjoying the exchange with no sign of that strange desperation, so I take the moment of relative privacy to quickly text Ko.

sent: I spoke with Hisashi.

received: And?

I snicker at what is becoming a decidedly typical "Ko response".

sent: And it was worse than I thought. But also better.

received: What does that mean?

sent: It was not at all what I expected. Heartbreaking. But not hopeless.

Ko takes longer to respond this time, and I have a feeling he's debating whether to ask for specifics. He doesn't, though, instead asking received: Is Hisashi okay, now?

sent: He's not great, but things could certainly be worse. I'm pretty sure I know what's been making him act out, though, especially in light of what he told me last night.

Another pause. received: Do you feel comfortable sharing? I smile at how conscientious he always strives to be, but the smile fades as I type in the words.

sent: I think he has PTSD.

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xxxxxx

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How did you like the chapter? Did I worry over nothing with regards to the dubious/non-consenting part? Honestly it was not how I originally planned this chapter going, but as I was writing it seemed necessary — I think it adds more complexity and believability to Chihiro and Hisashi's interactions, solidifies certain aspects of their feelings, and serves to remind us who (what!) these characters really are. I still love Hisashi, and as a largely OC he's still my bebie, so I hope I resolved it well enough that you don't all hate him lol.

Please let me know if you find any parts of this uncomfortable. I tried my best to relate the play of emotion and mental states, and the kind of openness behind it which made it acceptable, in a way.

That also plays into the chapter name (I only just started using them here, though I have used them on AO3 up until this point) of Muscle Memory, hinting at the way in which their physicality is familiar at this point, if not necessarily wanted; it is comforting and easy to go back to.

This, in turn, emphasizes the very real reality that as humans, our minds and bodies do not always align in their wants and needs.

I don't want this to always be some happy-go-lucky story, I want it to be realistic, and having these opposing forces playing within characters makes them more real, I think — esp when it comes to Chihiro. She's not completely the sweet little girl she was — she's a woman and she is complicated and confused and very much *human*, in the realest sense possible.

And that includes having a troublesome libido ahaha

With regards to Hisashi having PTSD, it seemed the closest fit, and I hope that I treat it respectfully and delicately enough as this fic continues. Please let me know what you think.

Also, did you notice what his family gang name is? MAJOR HINT/CHARACTER CONFIRMATION lol

Please comment what you thought and I hope you stick with me for the next chapter!

THANK YOUUUU!

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