Chapter Text
AKI HAYAKAWA WAS infuriating. As a Captain, he was capable. As a man? He was, single-handedly, without a doubt, the most insufferable individual you had ever had the displeasure of working with. He had this "I'm-better-than-everyone" sort of approach to life, was impossible to conversate with, and had no regard for leniency or any other sort of thing that required him to have basic human decency. He was a machine – all he cared about was work, work, devils, Miss Makima's orders, and work. You knew that any human who had gone through what he had gone through would be a little rough around the edges, but "rough" was an understatement. He was an asshole.
Still, he was undeniably attractive. Considerably handsome. He had the most striking blue eyes – an almost elvish face partially hidden behind his midnight black hair. You had never seen it out of its signature ponytail, but his bangs were fluffy enough for you to know that it was soft. Rosy pink lips that seemed to permanently rest in a scowl and a jawline that could cut steel topped it all off.
Additionally, he was a horror to work with.
Exhibit A:
One day, after a mission, you were trying (unceremoniously) to use your sword the way you had seen Captain Hayakawa do once before. It was something you hadn't seen before, a flick of the wrist, a movement of the arm, you weren't quite sure. Regardless, it had been smooth, and you needed to have something that looked cool in your itinerary.
So you spun the sword around the way he had. And, of course, the sword promptly flew out of your hand and landed on the floor five feet away with a resounding clatter – one that attracted the gazes of the rest of your team (including him).
"What the hell are you trying to do? Kill us?" He had asked.
Embarrassed, you tried to cover up for yourself, "I was trying to recreate this one move I saw you do earlier, but I think I need to work on my form."
He scowled then, perfect eyebrows drawn together, and grumbled, "You want my advice? Give up."
Exhibit B:
Your team was investigating an abandoned building on the outskirts of Tokyo. Captain Hayakawa was, as per usual, leading the pack. Following close behind him (because, admittedly, you were a little scared of the dark and he was holding the flashlight), you were at eye-level with his back, and he had... quite an intimidating physique, but that was a story for another time.
(Still, for the reference, the hard, muscled planes of his back practically obstructed your entire field of vision).
"We've been searching for hours now, Aki," Himeno sighed, crossing her arms after reaching into her pocket and fishing out a cigarette. Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered your Public Safety trainer telling you that it was bad practice to introduce fire to uncertain situations. "Might be time to give it a break."
"Maybe we can split off into groups?" You suggested, "We might be able to cover more ground that way."
He paused, then, glancing over his shoulder – cobalt eyes partially hidden by the dim light, "Butt out."
Alright then.
Exhibit C:
Denji burst out laughing, nearly choking on his food. "Nah, nah—hold up, say that again! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
You smirked, swirling your drink. "I'm just saying, Denji. If you actually tried using your brain once in a while, it might not be so bad for you."
Denji scoffed. "Like you're one to talk!"
Aki exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his chopsticks down with a quiet clack. His patience, already thin, finally snapped. He glanced between the two of you, his expression flat, voice edged with irritation.
"It's funny how you morons flock together, isn't it?"
Denji's grin faltered. You shifted in your seat, the weight of Aki's words settling over the table like a heavy fog.
No one said anything after that. The conversation was over.
So, yes, in short, he was impossible. His attitude and yours made for a deadly combo – namely, that the two of you were constantly butting heads. You weren't quite sure why everyone but you seemed to get along with him just fine – was he different towards you? Were you imagining it? Were you the problem?
Even Himeno was starstruck by the guy. Now, admittedly, he was handsome. Still, that wasn't an excuse to be an asshole.
Presently, you were on a mission, standing around in some damp, dimly lit alley with Himeno, Aki, Denji, and Power. The target—a devil you were supposed to be tracking—had yet to show itself, and the whole thing had devolved into a waiting game. A miserable, frustrating waiting game.
At least Himeno was good company. You leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed, your breath fogging slightly in the cold night air.
"I swear, if we wait any longer, I'm gonna fuse with the concrete," you muttered.
Himeno laughed, nudging your shoulder with hers. "That'd make things interesting. Maybe we'd finally get some action."
Aki, stationed a few feet away, turned his head slightly at the sound of your conversation. "Shut up," he said, voice low and firm. "We're working."
You sighed, long and theatrical. "Bruh. We've been here for three hours, waiting for something to happen. If it hasn't by now, it's not gonna."
Denji, crouched a little ways off, perked up at that. "For real, man. I say we just bust in somewhere and start smashing shit until something shows up."
Power grinned, baring her teeth. "Yes! At last, a plan worth considering! Denji, you are a true genius."
Aki exhaled sharply, the kind of exhale that carried the weight of profound disappointment. "If the two of you move from that spot, I swear to god—"
"Relax," you interrupted, smirking. "No one's actually gonna do anything. We're just talking."
Aki's gaze snapped to you. "That's the problem. Talking gets in the way of listening."
You raised an eyebrow. "Listening to what? The sound of absolutely nothing happening?"
For a second, his jaw twitched—just a little, just enough for you to catch it—but he said nothing, just turned his attention back to the alley.
Himeno shot you a knowing look, grinning. You had a feeling she found the whole thing amusing. Maybe because she knew Aki well enough to see what you couldn't.
Denji stretched his arms above his head with a groan. "Man, I hope this devil shows up soon. I'm starving."
"You're always starving," Power said. "'Tis because you are a weak and pathetic man."
"At least I ain't lying about it," Denji shot back.
Himeno shook her head, laughing under her breath. You smiled too, despite yourself. Because honestly? As much as you hated standing around doing nothing, there were worse people to be stuck with.
After the investigation scene was cleared – a gruesome hour later – you and Himeno sat on a rock outside the building. A cigarette burned between her fingertips. You didn't smoke, but the smell didn't bother you – not nearly as much as it used to. So, instead of complaining, the two of you sat in companionable silence. She smoked and you... well, you told yourself you were relaxing, but that was a lie.
No, deep down, you knew you were staring right at the illustrious lieutenant captain Hayakawa, watching him take his smoke break a pointed ten yards away from the two of you – smoke practically pouring out of your ears.
Way to make it clear that you're not interested in conversing, you thought.
God, he's such a stuck-up prick.
You had a mission report to give him, a summary of damages and whatnot, something stupid like that, but you were dreading giving it. If Himeno wasn't taking her much deserved smoke break, you would have asked her to do it.
You supposed it was unavoidable.
"I gotta give the mission brief to stick-in-the-ass," You sighed, turning your head to the side to size her up.
She winced, then chuckled. "He's not so bad."
"Yeah, to you," You whined. "I swear, he has it out for me."
"I think you're right, actually," She hummed, tapping the end of her cigarette and spreading the ash on the ground. "I wonder what you did."
Exasperatedly, you threw your hands out, whisper-shouting, "Nothing!"
"Wanna ask him?" She teased, kicking you in the shin with her boot.
"Not a chance," You answered. Still, standing up and dusting off your knees, you added, "I'm gonna get it over with."
Himeno waved you off with a lazy flick of her wrist, taking another slow drag from her cigarette. "Good luck," she said, exhaling smoke through her nose. "Try not to pick a fight."
You scoffed. "I don't pick fights."
Himeno gave you a pointed look.
"...Not on purpose."
She laughed as you turned away, rubbing at the spot where she'd kicked your shin. With each step toward Aki, your reluctance grew heavier, settling in your stomach like a stone. He hadn't looked at you once—not even when you'd gotten up, not when your boots scraped against the pavement, not when you stopped just a few feet away.
You cleared your throat. "Mission report."
That finally got his attention. He flicked ash from his cigarette, eyes shifting toward you, dark and unreadable in the dim alley light. "Go ahead."
Right. Because heaven forbid he make things easy.
You inhaled sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to keep your tone professional. "Minimal collateral damage. No casualties. Devil confirmed dead." You paused, watching for some kind of reaction. When none came, you added, "Oh, and Power punched a hole through the third-floor wall. Don't ask me why."
Aki's brow twitched—just a little, just enough for you to catch it. "I see."
Silence.
That was it? Not even a sigh, a comment, an ounce of acknowledgment? You gritted your teeth.
"That's it? You see?"
Aki took another slow drag, exhaling through his nose like he was already tired of this conversation. "What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know, maybe 'Thanks for telling me, oh esteemed and respected colleague,'" you deadpanned, shifting your weight onto one leg.
Aki exhaled sharply—right in your face. A deliberate stream of smoke curled into your eyes, stinging, making you cough.
You recoiled, waving a hand in front of your face. "Oh, screw you," you muttered, blinking against the burn.
Aki didn't react. Not a smirk, not a flicker of amusement—just that same blank stare as he took one last drag, then flicked the cigarette to the ground. The quiet scrape of his Converse sneaker grinding it into the pavement felt just as dismissive as the way he looked through you.
"Go get some rest," he said, tone clipped, final. Then he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, fists clenched, scowling after him.
God, he was impossible.
You spun on your heel and stormed back toward Himeno, already composing the exact rant you were about to unload on her.
The aftermath of one particular mission had been messy. The kind of messy that left the street littered with rubble, the air thick with dust, and your muscles aching from overuse. The scent of blood and burning filled your lungs. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm was blaring, and you could hear Power cackling about something—probably the chaos she had personally contributed to—but your attention was locked onto the man standing in front of you.
Aki was rigid, shoulders squared, his coat hanging loose where the fabric had been torn. His hair was a little mussed—annoyingly attractive, even now—but it was his expression that held you in place.
Cold. Impassive. But beneath that, a restrained, simmering anger, the kind that barely clung to the edges of control.
And then, suddenly, he moved.
The way he turned toward you wasn't abrupt—it was slow, deliberate, every step measured. His presence alone was enough to make you tense, though you refused to show it. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, but every syllable was razor-sharp.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
The words struck harder than you expected, sinking under your skin before you could throw up any defenses. You were still catching your breath, sweat cooling against your skin, adrenaline still singing in your veins, but you forced yourself to straighten, shaking off the weight of his scrutiny.
You lifted a hand, swiping away some of the blood smeared across your cheek— not yours, thankfully—and shrugged, keeping your voice as casual as possible.
"I was thinking that I got the job done."
Aki's expression didn't change, but something in his jaw ticked. He ran a hand through his midnight colored bangs, exhaling sharply through his nose. You could see the way his patience frayed, hanging by a thread, stretched taut and ready to snap.
"The job," he echoed flatly, like the word itself irritated him. "Right. And what about the building you nearly leveled?"
You scoffed, crossing your arms. "It wasn't that bad."
Aki's eyes darkened, his expression shifting into something heavier. "Three floors caved in," he said, tone low and measured, but beneath the restraint, you could hear the crack of irritation bleeding through.
He stepped closer, not enough to be aggressive, but enough that you felt it—the weight of his anger pressing into you, the sheer force of his presence making it harder to breathe.
"Do you even understand how reckless that was?"
Your fingers curled into fists. Of course, you understood. You understood that things had gotten messy, that your plan hadn't been the safest, but what pissed you off the most wasn't that he was right—it was that he always acted like he was the only one who was right. Like you were some reckless idiot who didn't think things through.
Your jaw tightened. "It wasn't like I had a choice," you shot back. "I did what I had to do."
It was different, this time. Aki took another step forward, and this time, you felt the air shift between you, thick with something you didn't want to name. His movements were precise, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes—were burning with something deeper.
"You don't get to decide that," he said, voice quieter now, but no less cutting. "You follow orders. You don't play hero."
You swallowed hard.
The way he was looking at you made heat crawl up your spine, frustration twisting into something else—something that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with how unfairly attractive he was when he was pissed off.
Your fingers twitched at your sides. "If I hadn't done what I did, people could've died."
Aki's jaw tightened. "If you keep pulling reckless shit like that, you're going to die."
His words hit harder than they should have, but you refused to let them sink in. Instead, you glared, chin tilting up defiantly even as your breath hitched.
"And I'm not cleaning up your mess when it happens," he muttered.
There was something in his tone—something unreadable, something you almost wanted to reach for, like he was trying to cover up the fact that he might have cared about you a little bit—but before you could, before you could shove back with another retort or demand what the hell he actually meant by that, he turned.
Without another word, he walked off, leaving you standing there, heart racing, thoughts in complete disarray.
You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face.
God, you really needed therapy.
Or maybe I just need to get laid? You thought. Perhaps it was the involuntary celibacy getting to you.
You decided that you needed both.
Mission get laid was a lot easier said than done. In your line of work, people often didn't last long enough to fuck around. If they did, they were assholes (not pointing fingers at anyone in particular). A few weeks later, and you were aching for some action. Everything seemed to piss you off a little more than usual. In fact, someone seemed to piss you off more than usual.
Hayakawa the cockblock.
You didn't know when you started thinking of him like that, but the title fit. It wasn't just that Aki was always there—it was that he seemed to have a personal vendetta against anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. If a guy even considered flirting with you, Aki had something to say about it. If a conversation lasted longer than a few words, Aki was there, lurking like a shadow, arms crossed, expression unreadable but just judgmental enough to kill the mood.
It was frustrating. More than frustrating. You were an adult. You could make your own decisions. You could handle yourself.
Which made this all the more annoying.
You had been talking to one of the newer guys, a hunter from another division, who, for once, wasn't a total weirdo or an asshole. He was tall, dark-haired, had one of those easy grins that made it clear he knew exactly how attractive he was—but not in an annoying way.
And he was into you. That much was obvious.
He had slid up beside you while you were taking a break, an easy smirk on his lips as he leaned against the railing beside you.
"You always look this intense?" he asked, tilting his head toward you.
You quirked a brow, unimpressed. "You always this nosy?"
He laughed, and okay—maybe it was kind of a nice laugh. He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Can't blame me for trying to get to know the prettiest hunter in the division."
You snorted, rolling your eyes, but the corner of your lips twitched upward. "Is that what you tell all the girls?"
"Only the ones who might actually kill me," he shot back, grinning.
Alright. Maybe this wasn't the worst conversation you'd had in weeks. He was easy to talk to, and more importantly, he wasn't running for the hills after five minutes of conversation.
"So, drinks after work?" he asked, cutting straight to the point. "I know a place."
And you were considering it. Actually considering it. What was the harm? A drink, some harmless flirting—
But before you could so much as open your mouth—
"Get back to work."
Your entire body tensed. That voice. Of course.
You turned your head just enough to see him. Aki stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression blank but so obviously irritated that you had to bite back a groan.
The guy beside you straightened a little, caught off guard by the interruption. "I was just—"
"You were slacking off," Aki cut in, voice sharp, authoritative. "We're not done here."
You huffed, shoulders dropping. "Oh, come on," you said, turning to him fully now. "Are you serious?"
Aki didn't even look at you. His gaze stayed fixed on the other hunter, cool and dismissive. "You have a job to do," he said simply. "So do we."
The guy beside you hesitated, glancing between you and Aki, clearly weighing whether this was a fight worth picking. After a beat, he let out a breath and muttered a quick, "See you around," before walking off, scratching the back of his neck.
You watched him go, feeling the frustration coil tight in your stomach before you rounded on Aki.
"What the hell was that?"
"Flirting on the job is unprofessional," he said flatly.
You scowled. "I wasn't. He was asking me out for drinks."
Aki didn't react, just stared at you, unblinking, unimpressed. "Don't get drinks with him."
You narrowed your eyes. "Oh? Why's that?"
"He's not trustworthy."
"Oh, please." You scoffed. "You don't even know him."
Aki's jaw tightened. "Doesn't matter."
You crossed your arms, staring at him hard. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away. He just looked at you. That cold, assessing look, the kind that made your skin prickle, like he was peeling back your layers, picking apart your intentions before you even had the chance to understand them yourself.
And then, finally—
"Just don't."
Something inside you twisted, irritation spiking high, sharp. You tilted your head, expression turning coy, teasing, because if he was going to be insufferable, you might as well make him suffer for it.
"What, you worried about me?"
Aki's expression didn't change. But his eyes darkened, just a fraction, and for a split second, you thought—maybe—that you saw something else flicker behind them.
But whatever it was, it was gone before you could name it.
"Get your head out of your ass," he muttered, and before you could fire back, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, fists clenched, frustration bubbling over into something you weren't quite ready to deal with.
You let out a slow breath, forcing your shoulders to relax.
The silence felt heavier now. The absence of the guy who had been flirting with you only made it worse—like the moment had been stolen right out from under you. You turned your head slightly, watching Aki's retreating figure, and something about the way he walked—stiff, tense—made you wonder.
Was it really about professionalism? Or was it something else entirely?
You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face.
Hayakawa the cockblock strikes again.
You swore to God—one of these days, you were going to figure him out.
And when you did?
You weren't sure who would come out of it in one piece.
Late one evening, heart racing in your chest, you raised a hand to knock at Captain Hayakawa's door. You hadn't been sure whether or not he would have even been in so late, but you saw the telltale light shining through from beneath his door, and you knew he was working later than usual. So, gathering your wits and your courage (and smoothing your hands over your clothes to correct your appearance), you finally knocked.
It was answered with a faint, "Come in." Something only he could make sound scary, truly.
Be brave. Be brave, you told yourself. You had spent the entire way over here deliberating what you would say to him once you had him face-to-face – a lie you had rehearsed to explain your absence from work in a few days, something about your grandmother being sick, typical par for the course. You couldn't back down. Not now. Instead of running away like you really wanted to (because you knew that once you were inside, it would be just you and him, and you weren't entirely sure you were ready for that), you entered.
You poked your head in first. Swallowing the thickness that had settled in the depths of your throat, you called out to him, "Sorry to bother you so late, Captain."
He was sitting all alone inside, hair neatly done back – and, for a moment, you couldn't help the fleeting thought that he might have straightened out his appearance in the few seconds it had took him to respond to your knock. Papers were sprawled out over the length of his desk in neat stacks. The room was dimly lit, save for a lamp at his desk. He had a pen pinched between his index finger and his thumb, tip tapping mindlessly against the wooden surface.
Beneath the dim light, he looked a little older than you knew him to be. He was either 20 or 21, you couldn't quite remember. Either way, he was only a year or two older than yourself, but the experience gap was noticeable. You knew that could easily be attributed to the psychological horrors he had witnessed at a young and impressionable age, but that was a type of business you tried not to mind. The bags under his eyes were a little more pronounced than usual, blue eyes half-lidded and droopy, like he was trying not to pass out.
His eyes dropped to your shoes, then raked themselves up your tense form. You writhed beneath the heat of his gaze.
God, I can never tell what he's thinking.
"Is something the matter?" He asked, something so remarkably normal and not angry that you had to actually do a double-take. When you said nothing, he curled a brow at you, waiting for your response.
Now that you were actually standing there in his office, you were getting cold feet. No longer were you confident in the lie you had carefully conceived on the ride over. Truthfully, you had a date, but you knew you couldn't tell him that.
Was it that you knew or that you were ashamed?
Frighteningly enough, you weren't entirely sure. Either way, it felt like you were walking up to your father, about to tell him you had been hiding a boyfriend from him for the past year.
So, switching your weight from foot to foot, you answered shakily, "I have... uh..." You swallowed, "I wanted to tell you that I won't be coming into work on Thursday."
That got his attention. He set the pen down, leaning back in his work chair and giving you the kind of look that could wither a fucking plant. "It's your responsibility to tell me a week in advance. That's when I make the schedules."
You hesitated, the weight of his gaze almost suffocating. The silence in the room stretched longer than it should have, thick and heavy with the unspoken words hanging in the air. You had to say something—anything—to break it.
"I'm... I'm visiting my sick grandmother," you said, the words feeling foreign as they left your lips. It was a story you had fabricated on the way here, an easy excuse that anyone could buy. But even as you said it, you felt a pang of guilt, like you were betraying something, someone.
Aki's eyes flickered over you, narrowing slightly, as though evaluating the sincerity of your statement. You couldn't read him—he was too good at keeping his thoughts hidden. For a brief moment, you wondered if he knew you were lying. His expression didn't change, but the air in the room seemed to grow colder, more tense.
"Alright," he said with a sigh, the words laced with resignation, though you couldn't quite tell whether it was disappointment or just weariness. "I'll make an exception. But don't make a habit of this."
His voice was the same as always—calm, almost too calm—but the underlying exhaustion was palpable, like he was just tired of dealing with people's excuses. You couldn't blame him for that. You knew he had been through more than his fair share of hardships, and the last thing he probably wanted was to deal with your little white lie.
You stood there for a moment, not sure what to do next, before Aki leaned back in his chair, picking up his pen again, signaling the end of the conversation. His focus returned to the papers on his desk, his posture relaxed, but something about the way he avoided your gaze made your stomach twist.
Before you could make a quick exit, something unplanned slipped from your mouth, almost without your permission.
"Hey, um... Himeno and I are going out for drinks tomorrow with some of the others from different divisions. You should come with us," you blurted out, the words catching in your throat as you said them. "It'd be nice if you joined us. We could all hang out for once. You know... get out of the office for a bit."
The request came out of nowhere, and you couldn't quite understand why you had said it. You had never once thought to invite Aki to something like this before. It felt... strange. You knew he wasn't exactly the social type, and you weren't even sure why you wanted him there in the first place. Maybe it was the loneliness that crept up on you during the long, sleepless nights. Maybe it was the faint hope that his presence would fill the empty spaces that seemed to grow wider between you and the people you worked with.
His gaze shot up to meet yours, and for a moment, you almost regretted speaking. He looked at you like you had just said something completely absurd, like it didn't even make sense.
"You want me to come out with you?" Aki asked, his tone a mix of incredulity and something else—maybe amusement, maybe suspicion. It was hard to tell with him.
"And Himeno. Yeah," You answered back, rather stupidly.
Your heart raced, and you shifted awkwardly on your feet, the uncertainty gnawing at you. Why had you invited him? You didn't even know why you wanted him there, why you felt this strange, impulsive need to extend an invitation. The thought of spending time with him outside of work—outside of the walls where everything was so professional and detached—seemed impossible. But here you were, offering him an out-of-place invitation to something that was supposed to be casual, easy, and fun.
Everything he was not.
"I mean, it's not like a big deal or anything," you continued, your voice faltering slightly. "It's just drinks with everyone... Himeno and some of the other teams. You could join us. It'll be a good way to unwind. We don't do this often, but..." You trailed off, suddenly unsure of yourself. "I don't know. You don't have to if you don't want to."
What the hell am I doing?
For a moment, Aki didn't say anything. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable, as if he were processing your words in his mind. He was quiet for too long, and you felt yourself growing more self-conscious by the second, like you had made a huge mistake.
But then, just as you were about to apologize for being so forward, he let out a soft sigh, one that barely registered as a sound.
"Alright," he said, his voice as flat as ever. "I'll think about it."
And just like that, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate. The cold, businesslike atmosphere returned, and you realized he wasn't going to press you further on it. But you still didn't understand why you had invited him. Why him? Of all the people, why did you want Aki to be there?
"Alright, goodnight then," you said, your voice sounding louder in your own ears than you intended. You started to turn toward the door, almost relieved that the conversation was over.
"Goodnight," he replied, already turning his attention back to his papers, not sparing you another glance.
You left his office, the door clicking shut behind you, but the weight of the interaction lingered in your chest. The invitation you had made—so impulsive, so sudden—felt strange. You didn't understand why you had said it, or why it felt like there was something more to it, something you couldn't quite place.
Why is my heart racing a mile a minute?
As you walked down the dimly lit hallway, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the night than you were letting on. A part of you wanted to retreat, to pretend it hadn't happened, but another part of you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he said yes.
Would it change things? Would it make you feel differently?
You didn't know the answers, but one thing was certain: something was different. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on.
No, you weren't going crazy. Something had shifted between the two of you.