#lithearts

       “   you know   …   ”   he begins in a conspiratorial tone,  volume lowering to an almost - whisper.   his fingertip against the counter - top,  akechi draws circles in abstraction.   a study in distraction.   “   i do,  actually.   sometimes i feel like my feelings go unnoticed.   ”   he looks at akira,  every emotion of his face a plea.   “   he reminds me of a knight in shining armor,  sometimes.   but when i really think about it,  i’d say he’s more of a dark knight.   fighting for justice in the shadows,  unknown and unacknowledged   …   ”   he pauses.   takes a sip of the rapidly cooling coffee.   “   of course,  i’m taking about featherman black.   he carries a rather unique kind of charm,  wouldn’t you agree ?   ”       

         all he had wanted was get clean & to go to bed before anyone could draw him into conversation — but that hadn’t worked out. somehow he’s been drawn into independent practices for two nights now. productive - but confusing. productive - but mostly exhausting. with his knee guards & water bottle in hand, he’s finally ready to conclude the night. yet, his skin prickles & he has the feeling he’s being watched. midstep he halts, glances over his shoulder. & spots red. great. so he interprets the question before he’s asked : ‘ i am not friends with the ace from fukurodani.    ‘

       it doesn’t take a detective to figure that something is different.       

              (   it’s the bartender.   )       

       it’s been a while since he last had a job like this.   the words  “ impersonate vongola’s decimo ”  stare him in the face,  daring a contradiction.   ritsu blinks,  once,  twice,  three times to make sure he isn’t seeing things.   is it wise,  he wonders,  to offend one of the largest mafia families in the world ?       

       and then he notices the client’s name.       

       well,  if nothing else,  he’s always enjoyed the faux authority of being a higher up.   even if it meant risking his life for it.   perhaps,  if he were honest enough to admit it,  especially if it meant risking his life.   ritsu lets out a soft laugh,  looking his customer in the eyes   --   fire in his eyes,  fire on his skin,  all burning in a way ritsu never would   --   and raises an eyebrow in amusement.   he may not be able to be set alight,  but shadows make fine enough mirrors against the fire.