Denial~ I never realized how much I enjoy writing characters that are in denial of their feelings until now.

I do headcanon that Kanoichi is really into astronomy. Give him small hobbies so he can enjoy! Don't be a coward!


"Satoru." There's a knock on the door to his apartment before it's open. Akane walks ins with a small smile with Shimizu trailing behind her. "How are you feeling?"

He nods in greeting to the nervous man. "Better than before. I'll be getting the cast off soon."

"Kanoichi-san, I heard what happened and was so scared! Miyako-san hadn't been answering my texts and I was so worried!" Shimizu wraps his arm around him, crying into his shoulder. He tenses, unsure of how to react or what to do. Akane hides an amused smile behind her hand, looking away and not helping him. "But you're okay! Akane-san says that Miyako-san is doing too!"

He has to keep himself from turning to Akane to confirm it, lest he make a scene or alert Shimizu to the same conclusion as Akane. He doesn't need them getting any ideas. It was bad enough that Akane came up with something outlandish. Does he care about Miyako? Yes. He cares about the people he works with, but she seems to think he cares more about the redhead. There's no way he does. Even if it hurts that Miyako hasn't visited or called to make sure that Satoru's fine. Of course, he doesn't blame him if he likes Akane more than him, going to her for updates or to chat. Satoru's cousin is the best after all (even if she makes strange notions).

Akane had reported them working together well, had gotten along well. They're to work two more once they're cleared by their doctors for fieldwork. Is there a small weight on his chest upon knowing that he might never see the redhead after those two cases. The chances of them meeting outside of work is very slim unless he's to ask him out—on an outgoing, not on a date!

"Kanoichi-san?" Shimizu stares at him worried. "You okay? You got red there."

"I'm fine," he hisses through gritted teeth.

"Is it because I mentioned Miyako-san?"

He chokes, very ungraceful of himself and probably very incriminating to his cousin. "What—? What makes you think he has anything to do with it?"

Shimizu shoots a nervous glance to Akane. "Ah, I just thought you were getting mad."

A huge lie. Satoru's expression darkens just a tad bit at the implication. "Miyako-san and I have been getting along well enough. What's there to be mad about?"

"Nothing I guess. I just thought that was all an act to fool the higher-ups." He bows, apologizing pretty loudly. A beat passes and he looks up through his lashes, his shock almost comical. "Wait, are you two really getting along?"

Akane huffs a small laugh of disbelief. "I know! We should have done that ages ago."

"I do enjoy my life, Akane-san."

"No, Satoru-san, I meant locking you two in a room together. Not the almost dying part. Although, that probably pushed you two to admit something."

Satoru gives her an unimpressed look at the further implication, grabbing his crutches and heading to the kitchen. He can't believe them. Why are they so obsessed with his and the redhead's relationship anyway? And what's with that tone of voice she used? No, no way. Somehow, she wrapped Shimizu into also thinking that Miyako means something to him. He doesn't get it. What makes them think that?

There's nothing between them. They're just coworkers (terrible at that) from different wards. They shouldn't have been together on as many cases as they have been because of this. Stupid higher-ups thought they needed to get along. So what if they didn't? So what if his chest aches all the time when he receives red-eyed glares or his name being spat out like venom? It doesn't mean anything. He cares about the other, but if he wishes to throw his lot in with the Anothers, then so be it. If he doesn't want to acknowledge the dangers of them, fine. So what?

His mind flashes back to when they were trapped. He thinks about the way Miyako's bare skin had felt against his touch and curled up against him, how soft and fluffy the other's hair is, or how beautiful his eyes—

Satoru shakes his head, clearing the weird images from his mind. How beautiful his eyes are? Why was he thinking this. No. There's nothing beautiful about his red eyes, not even the way they sparkle like rubies in the right light, nor the small flakes of orange in them. No. Nothing beautiful at all. They are hideous, pools of blood. That's all. Ugly. His laugh? Terrible. His smile? Gross. The way he scrunches up his nose? Not cute. Pig.

Is it too much to ask for the other to look at him with anything but dislike? Is he anything but an inconvenience to the redhead?

So what? It doesn't matter.

No, not at all. Even if it causes his chest to feel heavy or his stomach dropping. Doesn't matter to him. These feelings will leave sooner or later.

Satoru pours himself tea, getting a small pack of treats. He sits at the counter, sighing as he reclines his head back and moving it in circles. He's been cooped up in his apartment since returning from the hospital. He's been so bored. Of course, he's been keeping up with his reading. Then again, he needs to get more books since he's almost done with all of the ones he owns. Once he's given the all clear, he'll head to the bookstore.

The exorcist finds himself frowning, staring down at his cast. Some days he can feel Miyako's hands ghost over the skin and help set the leg, leaving heated touches from where his fingers and hand pressed against the skin, and—

Yeah, no. He is not dealing with this. He's not dealing with his hormones. Nope. Not today. Not any day. He does not want to think about Miyako at all or his warm hands heating his skin. He had been doing so well, why did Shimizu have to mess that up? Why did he have to mention the redhead?

When did his brain even think of stuff like this? Why does it bother with fantasies? They will never happen. So his thinking this, it's very inconvenient. He already had to deal with the dreams, he does not want to deal with the thoughts while conscious, especially not with his cousin and her coworker there.

Taking a breath, he looks towards the timid man upon hearing his shout. He follows the other's line of sight, seeing the calendar's date and he allows a small smile to flit onto his lips. A small meteor shower. Akane comes over and takes the tea and snacks from him, practically forcing him to rejoin them in the living room and socialize.

"I was able to track when the next meteor shower is. There are a couple of forums talking about it today," he says, steering the conversation to something that he enjoys and will be able to talk about for hours on end.


The distraction had been nice. His voice is now hoarse from the amount of talking he did. He hadn't thought Shimizu would have followed along, but the young man followed him and added some input. All wrong, but he corrected it and gave him explanations. It was interesting speaking to Shimizu about astronomy.

By the time his cousin and the brunet left, he was reeling with more questions. He'll have to research them later. He looks down at the anthology of poems that his cousin recommended him. The small anthology is of an Indonesian poet named Sapardi Djoko Damono. Satoru has never expressed any interest in poetry, he didn't even know that Akane liked it either.

On the roof of his apartment, he sits on a blanket waiting for when the meteor shower is to start, flipping through the anthology before sighing and reading the first poem.

". . . past midnight. and then I count my debts to You
and suddenly felt: how very poor I am;"

Immediately, his mind flashes to the thought of a redhead, who smiles at everyone else but looks at him with contempt, who in the barely lit darkness showed him so much concern and chose him first despite his ill feelings.

He immediately remembers his thoughts during the time trapped with him.

"it is still fitting for me to count my possessions
a pair of pants and a set of clothes as I repeat the mention of
Your name:"

Oh.

It's supposed to be an easy thing, but if I kill them all, they won't cause any more people to go mad. I don't value Miyako more than my goal.

Oh, how wrong he was. Miyako does mean more to him than his end goal. He values the redhead a lot more than that. Because if he's to lose him because of his own stubbornness, it will hurt so much.

Akane was right.

What is there that he can do? Miyako hates him.

Yet, in a dark place, only lit up by a phone light, he remembers a soft voice, gentle and kind call out his name first "Kanoichi-san . . ." and a pale face contorted with worry, beautiful rubies pained as they settle onto his broken leg.

Does he hate him?

Above him the first meteor flashes past, immediately followed by many more. Putting down the book, he tilts his head back to watch with a churning stomach at his small revelation. He watches the small cosmic show, the red streaks reminding him of certain irises, so distinct that he knows immediately what (who) he is thinking about. He shakes his head, trying to banish any and all thought. Even so, his mind betrays him and he wonders:

Is Miyako-san watching this as well?


I couldn't find a pdf of the actual poem online. So the poem is a translation by John H. McGlynn

It's the first poem called "Sajak Desember"

From the notes, I know it's talking about God and not a lover, but that is the first thought Kanoichi goes to.