#assassin!au

15 June

Hey. Uh… hey, Dad.

It’s… it’s Megumi. Yeah. Uh, I mean, you probably figured that. I just… yeah.

Happy Father's Day. I guess.

I, um… I haven't really said that in a while. Or… ever? Maybe once when I was a kid. I don’t remember.

Anyway… today was… well, I thought it was gonna be the same as usual. Y'know. Quiet. Kinda boring. I was just gonna stay in. Watch something dumb on TV. Nothing too loud.

Usually, Yuji or Nobara — they’re… they’re my friends — usually they’d drag me out, but they were doing stuff today. So.

Yeah.

I figured it’d just be another day. Nothing special.

But, uh… someone showed up. This… girl. Not—not like that, I mean… well. Sort of like that. I don’t know. She brought ramen. My favourite, actually. I didn’t even ask. She just… remembered, I guess.

I didn’t slam the door in her face, so that’s something.

We ate. Talked a bit. Nothing deep. Just… stuff.

But she said something. Kinda threw me off. She talked about her dads — she had, like… two. One was a mess. The other just sort of stood there and watched her try to figure everything out herself. And I don’t know, I… it made me think.

About you.

You're still around. I think. I hope. And you… you did stuff. Even when I was being difficult. Even when I was just… shutting everything out.

I know you’re still paying for school. I never said thanks for that. I should’ve.

She said father figures can’t fill the space of the real thing. I guess that kind of stuck.

And I remembered, when I was a kid, I… I wanted you to notice me. A lot. Probably too much. But you were tired. I get that now.

It’s not an excuse, but… it makes sense. Sort of. Life’s… exhausting.

And now I’ve got someone who—who sees all that, and doesn’t run.

Anyway.

I was just thinking about you. And mom. I don’t remember her, not really. But you did. And after she was gone, something changed.

You changed.

I didn’t understand it back then. I think I might be starting to now.

So…

Yeah. I miss you.

Happy Father’s Day. Again. Uh… if you’re still listening. Or… if you even get this.

Yeah. Okay.

End of voicemail.

Toji sat in the dark, phone clutched in one hand, thumb paused over the button like it had a pulse. He’d already played it—twelve, thirteen times now—but the words clung to him like smoke. Wouldn’t let him breathe.

He could still picture the sky from that day. Ugly purple clouds dragging their weight across the horizon, like someone had bruised the whole sky.

You’d stood in front of him with that look—the one that always came before something you didn’t want to say. And even now, all these years later, he could still hear it in your voice. The shake you tried to hide.

“Toji,” you said, and something inside him had buckled.

“I’m heading out for that Germany trip.”

You’d said it so quietly. Like if you kept your voice soft enough, it wouldn’t break his heart.

You left chasing a future. One where you got to be more than just his girl. A mother. A wife. Someone whole.

You never made it back.

Some days, Toji wished he could wake up and not remember any of it. Not the feel of your fingers curled against his chest. Not the sound of your laugh when he made some dumb joke. Not the way you used to look at him like he was worth saving.

He’s not fine. Hasn’t been in a long time.

Your pictures are still in his phone. He scrolls through them sometimes like he’s looking for proof. Some are printed, taped crookedly to the wall in his bedroom. He tells himself he likes having them there. But most days, they just make the room feel colder.

It’s hard to hear your name now. Harder to say it. Like if he says it too loud, the world might remember you and realize it’s made a mistake letting you go.

And Megumi…

He was the only thing that made you real again. Flesh and blood proof that you had once lived and loved and left pieces of yourself behind.

Now even Megumi’s gone. Not gone-gone, but distant. As he should be.

Toji had made you a promise once. Swore he’d take care of things. Take care of him.

He hasn’t. Not the way you deserved.

God, he should’ve tried harder. Should’ve been softer. Should’ve been better.

Instead, he’s just a man sitting alone in a dark room, playing a voicemail over and over again. Listening for something he’s afraid he’ll never hear again.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

Hey. Uh… hey, Megumi.

It’s… it’s me. Toji. Your, uh… yeah. Your dad.

Thanks for, uh… reaching out. That was… unexpected. In a good way.

Sorry I missed the call. I was… knocked out cold. Not like, knocked out, knocked out—just… asleep. Old bones, I guess. Not as sharp as I used to be.

Would’ve picked up if I could. Wouldn’t ignore you, not on purpose.

Yesterday kinda sucked, to be honest. Sat through some reruns. Don’t even remember what I watched. Something loud. Or maybe not. Anyway.

Glad to hear you’ve got… people. Friends. That’s good. Sounds like they look out for you. And you’re letting them, which… well, that’s not nothing.

Your friend, the ramen one… she sounds smart. Or nosy. Maybe both. But… yeah. If she’s helping you talk about this kind of stuff, she’s alright in my book. Wouldn’t mind meeting her. Once I… sort some things out. Get my act together.

And, uh… yeah. Of course you’re still my kid. You always were.

Megumi means “blessing,” you know. You probably looked that up already. I didn’t care what you were, just… that you made it. That you were here.

When your mom and I had you, I… we really wanted to do it right. Clean house, clean living. White picket fence, all that American TV crap. Didn’t really work out that way, huh?

After she died… it felt like the floor just gave out. I didn’t know how to stand up after that. Didn’t know how to be around people, especially not… small ones. Like you.

That wasn’t fair. I know. You didn’t ask for any of that.

You should, uh… visit her sometime. Bring flowers. She liked lilies. Or tulips? Crap. I should know that. I’ll go too. Been meaning to.

And uh… Happy Father’s Day, I guess. To you too. You made me one. I didn’t really think I’d ever get to be a dad. Let alone yours.

I know I messed up a lot of that. But if you’ll let me, maybe I can… I don’t know. Try again?

I’d like to be around. If you want that.

Anyway. That’s… yeah. That’s it. Call me sometime. Or don’t. But, uh… preferably call.

Also—small thing, but—I didn’t pay your tuition. Like, at all. You should probably check that. Might be a clerical error or like, embezzlement or something.

Alright. Yeah. Later, kid.

Bye.

End of call.

For a long moment, you can only stare. San doesn’t look any worse for wear - his clothes still fit him infuriatingly well, his eyes are clear, and with him maskless as he currently is, he could be a model or an idol, a celebrity in front of the cameras. 

It’s hard to reconcile him with the blurry, unclear image you remember from just before you passed out that night. The panic in the eyes you thought were his has left no trace if it was ever there, and with his face wiped clean of emotion, you can barely imagine him ever looking as terrified as you remember from that night. 

You almost turn away. It’s entirely possible you hallucinated San’s presence right after you threw the other assassin off of you for the last time. But someone brought you to Hongjoong’s doorstep. 

And someone said your name before you slipped into sweet, sweet unconsciousness, screamed it in a voice you know well enough after so many months of this game of cat and mouse. 

“You know what happened.”

Your words hang suspended in the air, a question but at the same time a statement for San either to acknowledge or brush away. For a long minute, he seems to contemplate those words, watch them hover in the air. 

Then he nods. 

You swallow hard. Your head is spinning with pain and cold and the implications of his nod and god, you really shouldn’t have come out in this condition, but you have questions and they need answers and so you open your mouth again even though everything in your body screams for you to sit down. 

“Did you save me?”

An even longer silence hangs in the air. You hug yourself against the cold, never once taking your eyes off the assassin in front of you. 

He nods again. 

The sharp breath that tears itself from your throat rips apart the silence. “Why?”

For a long, long moment, San doesn’t reply. He only stands in the path of the moonlight, an ethereal demon of the night watching you, a mere mortal with fractured ribs, several rows of stitches on various parts of your body, and a really, really bad headache.

You close your eyes against the pain. Your lungs drag in one breath of cold air, then another. When you finally open them again, San is standing right in front of you, half of his face hidden in shadow. 

A weak, hysterical laugh bubbles from your lips. “At least answer my question before you kill me for real.”

“If I’d wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have bothered saving you.” Two warm hands settle lightly on your shoulders as he gently pushes you to sit on the ground. “We wouldn’t be talking now. You’d already be dead.”

“What, you would’ve just -” you wheeze out a cough - “left me on that rooftop?”

“No, I would’ve shot you in the head and the heart, or slit your throat at the very least.” For the first time tonight, San almost seems to smile. “If I’d just left you there, you would’ve found some way to stay alive.”

You snort. “Talking this easily about how you could’ve killed me isn’t looking very promising for your answer to my question.”

His hands leave your shoulders. For a moment, you almost think he’s going to leave you there and just disappear into the night, but then he sits down next to you a safe distance away. His touch lingers on your skin, a phantom warmth that comforts you against the cold of the night. 

Strange that it would be an assassin’s touch that calms you, but this isn’t the first strange thing that’s happened over the past few months. 

“I don’t know if you noticed or care, but I haven’t been tailing you for a while,” San says abruptly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “There’s a reason for that.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I didn’t want to kill you,” he says simply. “I still don’t.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Why does that even matter?”

“It doesn’t. Well, it shouldn’t.” San shrugs. “I usually don’t have opinions about the people I’ve been assigned. Unfortunately for my hirers, I have an opinion about you.”

“Good or bad?” you ask, even if you’re pretty sure you know the answer. 

“Good.” San’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile. “Which is why I stopped tracking you. I didn’t want to anymore, and I had some time left on my contract. I had to figure out my next steps, if I wasn’t going to kill you.”

You snort. “That’s a first. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone who wanted to kill me not want to kill me anymore.” 

“That was kind of a trippy sentence.”

“Yeah, well, my brain isn’t really working right now.” As if on cue, a wave of dull pain hits your forehead again and you wince. “If you weren’t tracking me anymore, why were you there?”

“Someone let it slip to me that there was another hit on you.” The smile has fallen off of San’s face. “And that the hired assassin was at least as well known as I am.”

“Humble.”

“Don’t blast my ego, I need something to be proud about.” San rolls his eyes. “And then I figured out it was Yeosang, and I panicked because he’s more or less unstoppable, so I tracked you down again.” He swallows. “And I was almost too late.”

A cold shiver runs down your back. “I know.”

“Yeah.” San looks away. “So that’s my answer. Why I saved you.”

Silence falls in the parking lot again. You’re pretty sure you have other things you want to ask, are pretty sure that San’s hiding stuff or at least not telling the full truth, but your head is killing you and so are your ribs. 

“Come on,” San says, appearing in front of you once more. “I’ll carry you back.”

“I can walk,” you reply, struggling up. You almost fall over immediately. 

“Sure you can.” He rolls his eyes, then lifts you up without warning. He gives you a moment to screech and yell before starting to walk. “I’ll get you back to the safe house. You shouldn’t have come out like this.”

You give up on struggling. It’s nice being carried by someone who probably isn’t going to kill you, at least not yet, and besides, San’s right in that you’re in approximately zero shape to walk. It’s a miracle you made it here in the first place. “No shit,” you mutter into his shoulder. It’s warm. “But I had questions, and I needed answers.”

San sighs. Mutters something under his breath. You didn’t catch it so you consider asking him to repeat himself, but your head is really fuzzy right now and San is really warm and your eyelids are drooping and you really kind of want to sleep. 

“San?” you mumble. 

“Hm?”

“Why do you have a good opinion of me?”