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mxliv-oftheendless · 1 year

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Shattered Illusions

Aguni tried many times before to get Takeru to come back to him. He was never very successful.

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Alright, everybody, here it is! I have been working on this baby for a whole fucking month (it took this long because I started an internship and went to a research conference and have had so much shit to do), and thanks to a bout of insomnia keeping me awake I have finally finished it! I REALLY wanted to write something involving Aguni and Hatter, because their relationship in the show is so interesting and tragic and worthy of exploration. I really hope it's good, because I tried really hard to get Hatter's characterization right. Also I'll warn you I wrote a lot of this out in one go so it is largely unedited. But that's pretty par the course for me lol. Hope you guys like it!

I have to give the biggest thanks ever to @hatterstan-shameblog for all their help with this story! Thank you so much for your opinions and your analysis of Hatter and Aguni's relationship because it was a huge help! <3<3<3

CW: mentions of alcoholism and drug use, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

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Aguni didn’t like nightclubs—never had, really. They’d managed to convert one of the empty ballrooms of the Seaside Paradise Tokyo into a sort of nightclub, and as more and more people came to the Beach, it got increasingly crowded. If Aguni had had his way, he would never set foot in there, but as their numbers grew, so did the nightclub goers, meaning inevitably it became a place the militants had to regularly patrol.

Takeru, by contrast, loved the place. He was always the social butterfly of the two of them, so he loved to drink and dance with the people at the Beach’s nightclub. He made sure everyone had drinks, socialized with everyone; he even made sure there were clear paths to the bathrooms and water bottles available for those who had too much.

If it were Aguni being surrounded by a bunch of loud, drunk, horny people in swimwear, he would absolutely despise it. But of course, Takeru loved it. It was so plainly obvious to see that he did. His face always lit up in a wide grin and if Aguni strained his ears, he would hear the man’s loud laughter amidst the booming music. And even if Aguni couldn’t see him on the dance floor among the throngs of people, he knew to simply look for where the crowd was condensed the most, because Takeru would undoubtedly be in the very center. The people at the Beach loved it when he joined them, all of them crowding around their leader like moths to a multicolored-kimono-wearing flame.

“This song fucking sucks,” he heard over the music as Niragi swaggered up to stand beside him. “Why can’t they play the good shit?” he complained.

“You are not here to complain,” Aguni said curtly. “If you want them to play a different song, then give me your gun and go tell them yourself.”

That shut the kid up. As trigger-happy as he was, Niragi was still smart enough to know that if he handed over his gun, he effectively gave up his militant status. So Niragi contented himself with an eye roll, a petulant “Whatever,” and turning his grumbling to the floor.

If Aguni were a less stoic man, he might have rolled his eyes right back. But as it was, he returned to surveying the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of Takeru in the sea of swimwear.

Aguni was a sensible man. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest, or the most cunning, or even the most sophisticated man. But he was sensible—he had to be given his previous line of work. He operated under no delusions, made no attempts to lie to himself or anyone, and covered his own ass. And so he could see very rational reasons why this nightclub existed and why Takeru constantly being there was advantageous. It let the people who came to the Beach think less about how it was rather like an American-style cult and more about how they truly were all united. And Takeru, the leader of their little commune, and his presence there made the idea more believable. If he was there dancing alongside them, then he was one of them, an equal, not just the leader of the place. So even if he didn’t personally like the place, he could begrudgingly admit it was a little useful.

Takeru, by contrast, was the exact opposite. Takeru was extroverted and rowdy; he liked opera music and girl groups in equal amounts; he was charismatic and charming. All things that made him a good host, and afterwards, a natural fit for his father’s hat business. The only exception to Aguni’s sensible life was Takeru, but he could excuse that. He was his oldest friend, the only one who’d stuck around this long, so Aguni could perhaps forgive himself for having a soft spot for Takeru.

Still, even with Takeru, Aguni operated under no delusions—he’d known the man long enough to understand how much of his natural charm and extroverted nature was a front. Most, if not all of it, was a simple front. It was how Takeru coped, really; he hid his pain by pretending he didn’t have any. He drank and fucked it away until it came creeping back, because it always did, and he would go on and on and on repeating the cycle. And that was probably the real reason why Takeru had taken one look at the handful of ballrooms the empty hotel had to offer and declared one of them would be a nightclub. Because then he, and by extension others, could have a place where they could pretend they were back in the real world, partying the night away with their friends at a club, that they weren’t in this hellish landscape.

Maybe that was where Aguni went wrong, letting him do that. Especially in this place, where everyone was gone and all that remained were the horrible games. He let Takeru start the Beach, and he should’ve known that would set him on his old habits again. But he hadn’t thought much about it in the beginning. It had just been the two of them, Kuzuryuu, and a small handful of others then. Not enough to enable Takeru’s propensity for drinking his problems away.

“Aguni, my good man!”

Speak of the devil.

He’d been so focused on his inner monologue that he didn’t even realize the subject of it was stumbling out of the crowd. His sunglasses were over his eyes (he would never understand Takeru’s insistence on wearing sunglasses indoors) and he had an excited, rather inebriated grin on his face as he headed straight for him. “So glad you could join us!” he said boisterously, clapping a hand on Aguni’s shoulder. “The party wouldn’t be complete without your stoic, statuesque presence here!”

Aguni was not amused. “Hatter,” he grunted in greeting.

“Won’t you join us? I’m sure you’d enjoy the company of some lovely young woman.” Takeru waggled his eyebrows with a grin. “Or some lovely young man, or person. I don’t judge.”

He was definitely inebriated. “I need to talk to you,” Aguni said curtly. “Now. In private.”

“Why, Aguni,” Takeru placed his hands over his chest with a mock-flattered grin. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I’m being serious. We need to talk.”

There was a pause, in which Takeru simply stared at him. Aguni looked stonily back, not daring to break their eye contact. The sunglasses made it so difficult to read Takeru’s face. He wished he would take them off; he didn’t really like the person he saw when he wore them.

“Fine then,” he finally said, actually looking serious for once. Then it was gone as he gave the militants behind Aguni a charming grin. “How about we give your friends the night off? Let them relax and not have to do militant things for a while? Seems unfair that they can’t partake in the fun!”

Aguni paused, thinking. “Fine.” He looked over his shoulder at Niragi and the others. “Take the night off. But if I catch wind of any of you,” he pointedly looked at Niragi while speaking, “causing trouble, you can say goodbye to your militant privileges.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, but still groused “Fine,” the others following suit.

“Wonderful!” Takeru spread out his hands. “Have all the fun you like, my friends!”

He thankfully waited until they had dispersed into the crowd before turning to Aguni with a more serious look. The amiable smile was still there, though. “Shall we?”

Aguni turned and headed out of the nightclub without a word, hoping Takeru was following him. He’d been doing this lately, agreeing to speak to Aguni in private then running off the moment he turned his back. He always laughed it off as him just messing around, but Aguni knew what was going on: Takeru was avoiding him. Perhaps he knew why he was trying to speak with him alone and was trying to delay the inevitable.

Well, he couldn’t avoid Aguni forever. And Aguni wasn’t going to let him try.

Luckily, as soon as they were out of the booming nightclub, Aguni heard Takeru’s footsteps behind him. He took them farther down the hall towards the back area of the hotel lobby, and finally brought into what in the real world would have been the hotel manager’s office.

“What a private setting,” Takeru said gaily as Aguni shut the door. “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere more comfortable?”

He didn’t dare give Takeru the rise he was trying to get out of him. “We need to talk.”

“So you keep saying,”

“Takeru.” Aguni felt some satisfaction at how the man immediately shut up at that. “We need to talk about the nightclub.”

“All right.” Takeru leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “What about it?”

Aguni tried to remember what he wanted this to segue into. The problem was figuring out how exactly to do that without Takeru catching on and ending the conversation before they could get there. For all his love of drink and sex, Takeru was clever, and Aguni had never been very good with words. “I think we should limit the alcohol consumption before sending people out to the games.”

“And why exactly should we do that?”

“Alcohol messes with the ability to think clearly. If people enter games while they’re drunk and can’t think clearly, they’ll die.”

“Awww,” Takeru grinned at him. “I didn’t think you cared so much, Mori-chan. So heartwarming.”

He was deflecting. “Then how about this: if people start dying because they got too drunk before entering the games, that’s less people collecting the cards. It will take longer to collect all of them, and we won’t be able to leave this place sooner. And then people will start questioning what you keep telling them, about being able to send someone home when we’ve collected all fifty-two cards. They’ll stop listening to you.”

That got Takeru’s attention. A part of Aguni rather wished it hadn’t, because he didn’t want to think about the implications. “We don’t have to take away the alcohol completely. Just keep them from drinking too much before the games. They can drink themselves into oblivion when they get back for all I care.”

For a long moment, Takeru was quiet. He appeared to be looking down at the carpeted floor, deep in thought. Aguni had to work to stay patient as he waited for a response. They had to talk about this now, not wait to talk later, because Aguni was afraid he’d be too late if he waited.

“They’re all so brave, aren’t they?”

Aguni frowned at Takeru’s words. Takeru went on, still looking down at the floor. “They go out, every night, even though they know they may not come back. We do that to them, send them out to their deaths. And they go, willingly—happily, even—because they believe that someday, one of them can go home.”

Aguni found himself wanting to listen, to stop and hear what else Takeru had to say. He was good at that, convincing people to listen to him. He was like some sort of siren, drawing people in until they forgot why they were there and only knew Takeru and his words, his ideas. Maybe Takeru would agree, maybe he would say he was right, they couldn’t risk people dying because they let them get too drunk, maybe he would agree to put a limit on drinking alcohol before going out to the games. All would be revealed if he just sat still and listened.

But Aguni did not—could not—operate under such a delusion. “Takeru,” he said, allowing his voice to gain the smallest edge of urgency. “You need to see what I’m concerned about.”

“I do.” Takeru raised his head. “And I think we shouldn’t.”

If Aguni wasn’t so skilled at stoicism, he would’ve gawked at the man. “What? Why not?”

“Like I said: we send them to their deaths every night. And they go, no matter how scared they have to be that they won’t come back. Fear can mess with the ability to think clearly too. And I think if I had the choice to play a game drunk or afraid, I wouldn’t want to be afraid.” Takeru gave him a rather dry smile. “It is called liquid courage, after all. So I say let them continue as they do. It takes the edge of fear away, and they’ll go off to the games knowing that if they die tonight, they made the most of the time they had left.”

“So you want to let them go, completely unable to take care of themselves?”

“I never said that. And it’s not like they go alone. That’s why they go in groups; to look after one another.”

Aguni hated how his mouth opened and closed for a moment as he struggled to find what to say. “But what I am concerned about is drinking to excess,” he finally settled on. “And how it happens every night. Say someone thinks this is their last night, that they’ll die in a game, so they do as you say and drink and dance so they’ll have made the most of their time left. But what if they survive? Then they’ll just be repeating the same cycle every night. And eventually, they’ll start drinking more and more to keep feeling the same way.” He finally fixed Takeru with a pointed look. “You know that behavior isn’t healthy.”

Takeru’s expression finally melted into a serious one. “Watch your step, Morizono,”

Aguni decided to throw the double speak out the window. “I am saying this as your friend, Takeru. I’m not just worried about the Beach. I’m worried about you. You’re relapsing into old habits, and I think you are clever enough to recognize that. Forget about the others for a second and think about yourself. Imagine if you went into a game completely out of your mind, so much that you couldn’t play properly. What do you think would happen?”

Takeru was quiet for a moment. “I would get myself killed,” he finally said, in a tone that sounded like he didn’t want to admit Aguni had a point.

Aguni nodded. “Exactly.” He crossed his arms. “You would die in that game. What do you think I—what do you think the Beach would do if you died? You are the one telling them they can eventually go home; you’re the reason why they stay. Not me, not any of the executives—you. You care about them, don’t you?”

He wondered why he was so afraid Takeru would say no. Of course he cared about them; this world hadn’t changed him that much.

… Right?

“I do. I do care about them. I care about you, Mori-chan.”

Aguni relaxed. “Then listen to what I’m saying. I understand it’s the best vice possible in this place. But being so careless and excessive isn’t good for you, or them, either.”

“Mori.”

Takeru reached up to take off his sunglasses, revealing that behind them his eyes were softer. Aguni was struck by how tired he suddenly looked, like this conversation was reminding him of the gravity of… well, everything. But what Aguni chose to focus on was the clarity he saw. Takeru wasn’t drunk, wasn’t high, wasn’t checked out in any way—his eyes were clear, focused. He was listening after all.

“They need this,” Takeru went on, nodding his head at the door and the direction of the nightclub. “Look at where we are; a cruel, merciless world that doesn’t care how much we want to live, only whether we win the games or not. We’re just pawns, nameless faces in those twisted games. We don’t mean anything, or have any value as people. And maybe you are able to come to terms with that knowledge, but they can’t. They need a reprieve, something that will take their minds off the cruelty and death for a while. Because the reprieve gives them hope, that they can go home one day, and all the death and violence they’ve been through will be worth it. They need this reprieve, because the only thing winning a game does is cruelly remind them that in this harsh, uncaring world, they are still alive. Mori…”

Takeru clapped his hand on Aguni’s shoulder and squeezed it, looking at him like now Aguni was the one that needed to listen. “Don’t look down on those who are still alive.”

Aguni didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go. He hadn’t expected Takeru to say that.

“… Do you think I’m looking down on you?” ended up being the words that came out of his mouth. “Am I doing something to make you think I am?”

“Mori-chan…” Takeru squeezed his shoulder again. “Of course not. I know you’re not. You never have, in all the years we’ve been friends.” He smiled wryly. “As much as I’m sure you’ve wanted to. I’ve been told I can be a bit of a pain.”

“You’re my pain,” Aguni said immediately. It was what they’d always said to each other. If one of them said he could be an ass, the other would reply that he was his ass.

Takeru’s smile softened into something genuine and he chuckled. “Damn straight. And you’re mine.”

Aguni let himself smile a little. There was Takeru, finally. Still, though… “You’ll think about what I’m saying, though, right?”

He felt a little guilty at how the question made Takeru’s smile fade a little. But then Takeru nodded. “I will. Perhaps we can talk about it at the next executive meeting. You… do make a good point, I suppose.”

Aguni wanted to sigh in relief. He let himself smirk a little. “It must be so hard for you to admit I’m right.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Takeru mocked with a grin. “But seriously, I will. I will think about what you’re saying.”

That was all Aguni had wanted, really. He nodded. “Good.” He paused, glancing at the door. “I should go make sure Niragi hasn’t shot up the place.”

“What a hotheaded young man,” Takeru said with a coy grin. “He’s such a joy to be around.”

That made Aguni crack a dry smile. “An incredible joy.”

Takeru laughed and pushed himself off the desk. “Allow me.” He went over to the door and opened it, making a sweeping gesture out the door. “After you, my good sir.”

With a fond shake of his head, Aguni moved to walk out the door… then was stopped by Takeru placing his hand on his shoulder again.

“Mori… things will change. I promise you. Things will be better.”

Aguni looked at him for a second, taking in how earnest his old friend looked. Then he nodded. “I know.”

Takeru smiled, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Well,” he put his sunglasses back on and gave what Aguni had labeled his Host Club Smile, “back into the fray I go!”

As Takeru sauntered off to rejoin the party in the nightclub, Aguni couldn’t help watching him go. Takeru really did have a talent for reassuring people. But would it really be so bad if Aguni let himself hope Takeru was telling the truth? He was a sensible man. But sensible men could still have hope.

Takeru had listened to him. He had admitted he had a point. He promised him. And for once, wanting to have faith in his best friend, Aguni believed him. Things would change. Things would get better.

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They didn’t.

Nothing got better. Everything just got worse.

Aguni blamed those players that got themselves shot and killed. If they hadn’t been hoarding their cards, none of this would’ve happened. But they did, like a bunch of idiots, and all the Beach had to show for it was the beginning of the stacks of bodies in the dumpsters and their newest rule.

Death to the traitors.

He should’ve known Takeru wouldn’t be able to handle it all. Because with the reveal that the players were breaking the rules came the shattering of Takeru’s carefully constructed illusion that everything would be fine. He’d never seen the man look so wildly enraged before.

And ever since then, Takeru wasn’t the same. A darker edge had crept into the way he presented himself, just around the edges, and only just enough that people saw it only if they were looking for it. Aguni seemed to be the only one looking for it. He was different now, darker than the man he was before those fucking Beach members set him off.

“Looking for Hatter, I presume?”

The drawling voice made Aguni turn from the entrance to the nightclub to the young man with the bleached hair and white hoodie standing to his left. Chishiya, the Beach’s newest executive. Takeru kept praising how smart he was and how his intellect was contributing to the Beach’s efforts. Aguni was only reminded of a sly, predatory cat. “That’s none of your business,” he barked.

Chishiya just gave him an unbothered smirk. “Naturally. He’s in his room, by the way. He went there a few hours ago with a couple of girls.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off towards a young woman in a blue bikini chewing a fake cigarette.

Of course he was. He should’ve checked there first instead of the nightclub. Takeru had stopped going there lately.

Aguni didn’t waste any more time and turned to head towards the stairs to Takeru’s room. With any luck Takeru would be sober enough to string together a coherent sentence.

Sure enough, he was there, and indeed was sprawled out on his couch with two girls on either side of him. Aguni’s thumping footsteps must have announced his arrival, because Takeru looked up and grinned widely upon seeing him. “Aguni! I’d recognize those heavy footfalls anywhere!”

Aguni hated the state his friend was in. He was clearly already drunk. His lips were stained red with lipstick. Those damn sunglasses never left his face these days…

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said gruffly, trying to ignore the girls running their hands all over Takeru’s torso and kissing his neck and chest.

“Aww, little old me?” Takeru’s grin was borderline mean. “You’re so sweet, Mori-chan.”

Aguni wanted to sigh (and not think about how much seeing that mean smile hurt). “We need to talk.” He glanced at the girls. “In private.”

“You always want to see me privately. Why can’t we be out and about proudly for everyone to see? Are you ashamed of our relationship, Mori-chan?”

“I am being serious,” Aguni said, trying to make his words hit as deeply as possible.

“You always are. Why not relax for once? It won’t kill you.”

It was becoming very hard to not punch that lazily unbothered grin off his face. “You made me a promise, Hatter.”

Aguni felt a flash of slightly spiteful satisfaction when the grin immediately slipped off Takeru’s face. But then it was back as he nonchalantly shrugged. “So what?”

“So things are not changing in the way you implied they would be.”

“Because things are different now. We must adapt to new situations, or we’ll never—”

“Don’t give me speeches,” Aguni interrupted with a scowl. “I’m not one of your followers.”

That made Takeru pause, and Aguni went on. “You told me you would think about what I said. You told me things would change. They haven’t changed—they’ve only gotten worse. Did you forget that promise?”

There was a long silence. No one moved, not even the girls. Everyone, from the girls to the two militants guarding the door, seemed tense as they waited for the unmoving Takeru to respond. He simply stared up at Aguni, expression unreadable with those damn sunglasses.

“That was then,” he finally said, in a voice that was soft but seemed to fill the entire room. His voice shook with something. “This is now. The Beach needs a leader, and I have been chosen as the leader. Sacrifices need to be made.”

Aguni half-wanted that long, tense silence back. “So you’ll just let it get worse?”

“Is it really worse? Is it any worse than the horrors we face every night? Not everyone is so desensitized to violence and death, Aguni.”

The way his name was spat out nearly made Aguni flinch.

“Perhaps you only have the Beach’s best interests at heart,” Takeru went on, “but so do I. And out of the two of us, I’m the leader. You and the militants answer to me. So I am going to keep things as they are.” He looked up, and Aguni hated the glare he could feel coming from behind the sunglasses. “Is that clear?”

Aguni felt something painful erupt in his chest. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say no, that wasn’t clear, that this was insane. That he was worried about him, because he was spiraling so far down a path Aguni couldn’t follow. That it was becoming harder to tell where Hatter, leader of the Beach ended and Danma Takeru began.

“Yes. It is.”

The words felt like a betrayal.

They seemed to flip some sort of switch, because a second later, the lazy, unbothered grin was back and Takeru sat back against the back of the couch. “Wonderful! Glad we’re all on the same page. You’re free to go now.” His grin turned suggestive. “Unless you’d like to watch. Or you could even join. I’m very flexible.”

Aguni wanted to do neither of those things. Wordlessly, he turned and began to leave.

“Oh, by the way,” Takeru called, “some of the militants caught a few people trying to leave. Would you be a dear and help them move the bodies out of the basement? They would ask Ann, but I think they’re a little scared of her.”

All he gave in reply was a grunt. Then he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Aguni Morizono was a sensible man. He covered his own ass, didn’t overthink things, and minded his business. And he never operated under delusions of any kind.

Except the one where he wasn’t losing his best friend, apparently.

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