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Chapter Text

The small boxing gym stood silent in the near deserted estate. It wasn’t surprising – the industrial estate lacked the attractions for tourists, and for the locals – well, the regular citizens had no need for warehouses full of decaying objects. The Port, of which housed this seemingly empty estate, didn’t care for titles of ownership – things that were lost were seldom found.

Had someone been at the door of the gym, they would’ve seen it to be empty, the only sounds playing from an old tv flickering on the walls, an old boxing match staggering in and out of static, antenna warped but unbroken. Had someone stood at the desk they would’ve seen the dirty sign-up sheet, a few names scrawled in blood red ink, each branded with the logo of the gym – The Corvids.

It was an odd name to name a gym, but even stranger, were the names immortalized on the page.

Crow.

Raven.

Magpie.

Rook.

Jay.  

From the register, had someone been there, they would’ve heard soft thumping sounds followed by high-pitched somethings. It came from the door, neatly labelled “Staff only”. Which – wasn’t technically a lie.

Behind the door was another boxing ring, except instead of being constructed as it should, with all the safety equipment, the ring was surrounded by barbed wire. And the two occupants were being shot at.

The larger man inside grunted with effort as he was shot in the calf, rubber bullet bouncing off, bruise already starting to form. His styled brown hair lost its touch as the next bullet barely missed his head. He stumbled forward, wincing in pain, but a determined look on his face.

The smaller man, albeit only slightly smaller, didn’t miss the chance to go barreling forward – lowering his stance to throw the injured off his feet. A bullet, perfectly aimed at his shoulder threw him to the side.

Sweat trickling down their faces they circled each other, fists raised – knuckles bloody. Each man sported numerous bruises on his face, though not deep enough for lasting damage. It was all they could do to minimize the damage the bullets were doing, allowing them to graze by while eyeing off each other. 

"Stop.” A quiet yet commanding voice filled the space stopping the two men in their tracks. They immediately backed off each other, holding their bruised limbs, turning to the man holding the gun.

The silver haired man lowered it, regarding them quietly, “That was a good effort.”

They flinched. He holstered his gun and stepped over the barbed wire, black dress pants never catching on the spikes. He offered them a quiet smile, small and reassuring. They stood side by side waiting to be reprimanded – the two battered men knew what was coming next.

“Good, but we need to build your pain tolerance.” He spoke in the same measured voice, closing the space between them, “The higher your tolerance is to pain – the less likely you’ll be affected by the physical difference we have to alphas. We can run and hide, but we have to learn to fight.”

The silver-haired man grabbed the bare arms of the two men, releasing his scent. An acrid, almost poisonous smell of honeysuckle and fresh linen filled the air, making the two men – even as the omegas they were – go slightly fuzzy headed, wanting to submit to the older omega. He concealed his scent nearly immediately, the lingering smell of a dominating omega still drifting in the air.

“They will try and dominate you.”

The men nodded.

“They will try and use your status to their advantage.”

They nodded again.

“They will use us against us.”

Silence – but another nod.

“We will not let them.” He spoke calmly to them, hands still on their arms.

“Ennoshita.” This time he addressed the smaller man, the one with darker hair. He pressed harder into the bruised shoulder, “When you fight one on one, you don’t stay aware of your surroundings. If you actually got shot here, you wouldn’t be able to protect this side of you. You’d get taken. We don’t want to lose you.”

Releasing his hold on Ennoshita, the silver haired man turned completely to the taller man, who now seemed to be unable to look the reprimander in the eye, “Oikawa. You put yourself in danger when you kick, you favour your legs. Once the enemy takes away your mobility, you need to learn to apply your boxing skills. Or, become so strong that they can’t take away your legs. I need you on the field, we can’t afford to lose you.

“In fact, we can’t afford –”

A bullet whizzed past his ear, nipping it. It immediately started bleeding, and instead of turning to see where it came from, he turned instead to see the bullet buried deep in the steel target he’d erected that morning. His eyes narrowed as he turned to then face the shadowy recesses of the rafters from which it had come from.

The two injured men took this opportunity to exit the barbed boxing ring, grabbing the first aid kit and water bottles, going to rest and rewrap their bare, bleeding knuckles.

The silver haired man coughed, “You were two cm off the middle. We will only go to moving targets once you can get every target directly in the middle.”

His eyes had adjusted to the shadows. They travelled along the thick sturdy crossbeam that kept the warehouse up, and as they did, he spotted the young man. He was tall and a bit gangly, though he couldn’t see it from the ring – lying along the steel, sniper rifle balancing awkwardly off the side. He had to give him credit, had Tadashi been comfortably set up on the lip of a building, he would’ve been able to hit any target.  

Tadashi readjusted his grip and before the silver haired man could even blink two loud shots had been fired, embedding themselves in two targets further in the distance – against the end wall of the large warehouse.

“Very good Tadashi – those were spot on. Can you –”

A door burst open. The label ‘Staff Only’ gleamed in the light from outside. The guns went up. Everyone was at the ready, even the two injured men put their hands up, bandages trailing.

“Suga-san.” The person gasped, silhouetted by the orange glow of the now setting sun.

The person - now identified as a young man, stumbled into the room, tripping over his own feet as he hurtled forward to latch onto the silver-haired man.

“Suga-san.” He repeated, sweat running down his face.

His scent was now more prominent, distress rolling off him in waves of acrid ginger and sunflower long dead. Suga, the one he’d latched onto, wrinkled his nose. Tadashi began to climb down from his post in the rafters and Oikawa and Ennoshita, tired though they were, began to approach the distressed man.

“They took her Suga-san.” He gasped, tears welling up in his eyes.

He pulled Suga to the floor, as his legs crumpled beneath him. The older man instinctively started to release a calming scent. Then something in his mind clicked, as he processed the words. Sour scents of all the omegas permeated the air.

“They took Natsu.”

Suga’s blood ran cold, ice shards coursing through his body – painfully so. Tadashi stopped in his approach, stomach suddenly on a boat in the open sea, lurching. Oikawa, who had nearly reached his Boss, felt hatred fill his lungs.

Ennoshita, unable to disregard the heavy acrid scent but the only one who did not have a close personal connection with the person the young omega spoke off, chose to broach the subject. Placing the first-aid box down – his hands chose to dig into his palms instead, he addressed the quivering omega, “Hinata, what happened?”

•••

There was no wall space left, or desk space. It wasn’t that the room was small – quite the opposite in fact, it was large, and spacious with high ceilings. No, it was the fact that each spare space of the wall was covered with newspaper clippings, photos and maps, green and red string joining things together, markers circling and crossing, sticky notes stuck to everything, everywhere. It was a mess, but it was a web, and the Captain of the Karusuno Unit understood every meaning and implication behind it. But that didn’t make the cases any easier.

“Daichi.”

He stood in front of the wall, eyes darting between carefully circled newspaper clippings, eye witness reports and blurry surveillance photos. Frown deep-set, he stroked his stubble, still though he stood, his mind whirred.

“DAICHI.”

He blinked, and turned to the serious looking man hanging onto the doorframe, leaning into the room. Daichi expected to see a bag on his shoulder, the man already dressed in civvies but instead he saw an impatient man, gun and taser holstered.

Daichi grabbed his coat, “What is it Iwaizumi?”

“Follow me, I’ll explain on the way.”

They walked out of the room, past the other office rooms, and even past the conference room. While Daichi slowed – hadn’t Iwaizumi wanted to talk? – the other man simply sped up, ignoring the ‘Slow down’ that came from the other man.

“We already have officers from our special unit going over there.”

“Where’s there?”

Iwaizumi blanked and then realized he hadn’t told his superior. Exiting the building he began to explain.

“We’ve just eyewitness reports of a young omega girl getting kidnapped. Apparently, it was a rough steal and quite messy, so someone managed to get a glimpse of the number plate of the van. Tsukishima has tracked the van to a large warehouse on the East side of the Port –”

“East Estate?” Daichi interjected. That area was notorious for its gangs, much unlike the West Estate, “Haven’t we already run through that area?”

“Only a small part of it – and because all the warehouses are so empty. Well anyway, we’ve been assigned because it has a similar M.O –”

The two were driving now, Daichi taking the wheel, coordinates already in the gps. Disregarding the speed limit, he accelerated with a loud crunching on the road, siren on. It would stay on until they reached the estate, when a surprise entry could mean the difference between a failed and successful rescue attempt.

“– to the case we’ve been working on. If this has links to omega trafficking it could be a major breakthrough.”

Daichi had trouble staying safe on the road after that. This may just be the missing link to the case he’d been working on for the past eight years.

“Which officers are on their way?”

“Kageyama, Tanaka, Tsukishima will be on standby on the roof of a nearby warehouse, Terushima will also be there. We may have to call in the Nekoma unit.”

“WHAT?” Daichi all but roared, “They cater to all politicians, they’re a completely different ballgame.”

“Boss, they’re still a detective unit.”

Daichi huffed, settling to release more of his scent, allowing it to toe the line between excitement and apprehension – he could never stay angry for long.

He tried to stop overthinking it, “Iwaizumi, we’re just here to save a pup. It may lead to nothing at all.”

As much as he was saying it to the other alpha, it was all he could do to focus on the road and not the excited pounding of his heart.

•••

“Pack up your stuff boys. We’re going to war.”

Suga slipped on his black blazer, holstered two guns, picked up his briefcase and pushed his dark sunglasses up his nose. He exited the building and watched as the four other men strode out as well.

“Remember, code names only. Hinata – we cannot have you messing up again.”

They were surprised when Hinata didn’t answer, Oikawa turned to see the small man sticking in an earpiece. When he looked up to meet Oikawa’s eyes, there was nothing but grim determination on his face. Everyone visibly tensed – remembering why Suga called it a war.

“I want Jay with me and you Ravens take the other car with the Magpie.”

They nodded and split in their different directions. The three went first in a nondescript unmarked black car - gear in the back. Oikawa drove, Hinata in the passenger seat - checking his ammo supplies and Tadashi in the back, long briefcase open on his lap, rifle getting wiped down, telescopic scope getting cleaned. The car's atmosphere hung heavy with tension, Hinata’s leg bouncing.

“Calm down Shoyou, we’ll get your sister back,” hissed Oikawa, not unkindly — but harsher than he intended.

“Mm.”

Hinata wiped down his gun again, and in preparation held his arms up, aiming out the windscreen at the road in front of them.

“Hide it, you moron!” Oikawa’s eyes flitted nervously from side to side.

“There’s no one around, ya grand king.” Hinata muttered, but lowered it anyway, opting instead to grab a small dagger strapped around his ankle. He twirled it anxiously around in his fingers, the sharp edges gleaming every time they drove past a street light. Oikawa hissed softly at the blatant actions, but didn’t say anything. If it was his sister, had he had one, he wouldn’t’ve even waited for the Boss Crow’s permission, or help. If anything, he admired Hinata’s patience now.

From the backseat Tadashi had finished fiddling and preparing his rifle. Locking away in its long case, he leaned forward through the gap in the seats.

“What d–”

Tadashi turned on the radio and spun the dial until the little line faced directly down. The radio crackled, and a voice began speaking in soft but angered tones.

“About time. You don’t even know where you’re going.”

The two omegas in the front paled. They had completely forgotten.

“Sorry Rook.” Hinata spoke up first, voice apologetic but tense, “Can you wire through the directions to the gps?”

“The gps is a crapshoot. Follow my directions and I can get you there in five minutes.”

“Five minutes from West side to East side of the Port. I don’t doubt your abilities Rook but –”

“Right.” Came the crackling voice from the radio.

Oikawa took a hard right, sending Tadashi flying back into his seat, and had Hinata gripping the foldable arm of his seat.

“– I highly doubt you can get us there in five.” Oikawa finished.

“Then start speeding. Left.”

Oikawa spun it, not once slowing down. They skidded around the corner, hearing the car complain beneath them. He didn’t speed up either, taking the crackling voice’s last sentence as a joke.

Five minutes later they were rolling to a stop. The voice over the radio crackled with static and laughter, a told-you-so to the driver. Oikawa rolled his eyes, “Where are we targeting Rook?”

“Blue warehouse, two left turns down. Straight on the corner. Tadashi, all other buildings in the area are taller than it, and majority unguarded, so take your pick. And please stop calling me Rook, call me Kenma.” The voice pleaded to an empty car, the men already pulling gear out of the trunk of the car, silent.

Tadashi didn’t need anything from the back, he had his sniper snug by his side, and a small knife hidden in the ankle of his left boot. Keeping to the shadows that stretched out long on the pathways and close to the side of the buildings, he made his way to a building that loomed above the rest – a shabby apartment building. Dressed in breathy black slacks and a loose-fitting black shirt, he didn’t exactly blend in when he walked in. The flickering halogen light that framed the reception didn’t help his look either – but the cigarette smoking beta who was manning it didn’t care. No, the beta was too busy drawing white powder into lines with his military tags.

He climbed the staircases taking two at a time, with each passing minute passing less people. Mama’s stopped screaming at their pups, alphas stopped trying to wedge their way into rooms filled with scared omegas, hungry betas stopped trying to appease themselves with drugs and alcohol they could barely afford. When a gunshot rang out from the third floor – he was still climbing – no one paid any heed, though some did bow their heads to acknowledge the death of a fellow – probably fellow omega. Tadashi felt sick to his stomach, but kept climbing. He had a job to do.

The lip of the building was perfect. Silhouetted by moonlight, he could see the tall – but still rather squat – warehouses all around him and the surrounding streets perfectly. He opened his case. The blue warehouse his gang would be raiding tonight was a fair distance away, and he saw many suitable spots on the lower buildings. But his heart tugged him to the sky, and he couldn’t say no. The omega removed his gleaming sniper rifle, fitted the scope on, and began adjusting it to the door of the blue warehouse.

The wind began to pick up. His ears pricked, sounds that spread fear into his very bones reaching him on the updrafts. Sirens. He fumbled ruffling in his ear, before pressing onto his earpiece – ON.

“Ah Rook-san?” He was still very much unsure about this communication system.

“Loud and clear Ta-Magpie. Go right ahead, and please drop the honourifics.” The reply came to him instantly, loud, clear, accompanied with a snide end remark. The young omega swallowed as he turned to look down at the approaching cars.

“Rook-san we have police in the vicinity.”

“Time?”

“Two minutes, from North end.”

“Shit.” Kenma swore loudly. And from his end Tadashi could only hear the sound of keyboards clacking. He busied himself with his sniper, and readied himself, lying down on the edge of the building. Pressing his eye to the scope, he swung the rifle down to look at the police cars now slowly crawling along the road.

“Magpie can you –"

“It’s the Karusuno Detective Unit, and, fuck, Rook-san there’s seven cars.”

• ••

The Karusuno Detective Unit assembled a street away from the warehouse, cars jammed into an alley, doors closed quietly, gear assembled and distributed as silently as possible. Being Captain, Daichi didn’t have a choice about leading, but he was unsure about what was going on – and that was never a good thing.

“Tsukishima!” He hissed at a tall blond alpha, who was currently peering down the telescopic scope of his sniper rifle. The man started, and then turned to frown, “Captain.”

“Details Lieutenant.”

“Blue warehouse, white van parked out front. One known victim, at least three pup-nappers. Unknown number of hostages inside, unknown number of criminals. Three known exits, one rolling door out front with smaller door beside. One small door at the back. Windows around all sides on the second story.” The alpha spoke in short clipped sentences, just the way his Captain liked. He got the knowledge without the bullshit, “Excuse me, I’m going to set up.”

Cradling his sniper rifle like a baby, the man slinked off to find a lone roof top somewhere. Daichi shook his head in disbelief at his shortness, but was glad to know at least one of his subordinates didn’t need constant monitoring.

“Men.” He barked in a low tone. Four men joined him, Iwaizumi, one tall, black-haired and scowling; another with bleached hair and an undercut; the last completely bald and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Daichi felt a bit underwhelmed at the size of his unit.

His heart lifted however, when a sixth car pulled into the alley, police markings around the side. A large lumbering alpha got out clumsily, and joined the ranks, and Daichi’s frown deepened.

“Azumane Asahi, you’re supposed to be on desk duty. So are you, Kyotani.” He growled at another officer that had just pulled up.

But that did little to persuade them, and silently standing there amongst their fellow officers – Daichi couldn’t really protest, launching straight into the details. So engrossed in their plans were the alphas – so tense and ready for a fight, that even when organising their groups and collecting their weapons, they didn’t notice the two men clad in black watching quietly from the shadows.

•••

“Boss.” A crackling in Suga’s earpiece nearly cost him his control on his scent, but before the alpha’s keen noses could even pick up on a hint of his scent, he’d squashed it.

“Boss, nod once if you can hear me.”

Suga nodded. The security camera that had fixed on him a moment earlier turned away.

“Boss, the Ravens have reached the warehouse.”

Ennoshita, waiting quietly beside him, lifted a hand to his ear to listen in on the conversation. This was neither lost on Suga, nor the security camera that had swivelled around to take the two shadows in again.

“The Ravens want to know if you can take care of the police.

Suga nodded, smiling slightly.

“Kill on sight?”

Suga shook his head.

“Brand?”

Nod. It’s a better way for them to live, thought the older omega.

“Ok, Ravens were you listening in? Boss wants you to immobilize and brand. Wear your masks. Focus on the enemy first, though Oikawa be awa– “

“Yeah, chibi-chan will want to go after Natsu. That’s fine. I’ve been training for this anyway.”

“So, it’s ‘Brand Name’ then?” A higher voice chipped in. Everyone recognized it as Hinata’s.

“Go for it Raven.”

The line went dead. Suga sighed shallowly and stared at the alpha’s backs. Pulling up his black mask, the only recognizable thing about him was his silvery-grey hair. Reaching into his blazer pockets he grabbed the first thing his fist closed around – a smoke bomb.

Beside him Ennoshita did the same, slipping his hands into his black hoodie but instead of pulling out a smoke bomb, he produced two cans of spray paint.

“Remember the order of operations.” Suga whispered to him quietly. Ennoshita was still a rookie when it came to these raids, these unexpected ambushes, and so had to be closely monitored.

The other man nodded and began to slink around the side, then broke out into a run. The police officers stiffened and as the omega released his scent, all of them stiffened. It was an angry, distressed scent, and every alpha reacted to it, instinctively going to protect. Except, the omega shook the cans and began to spray.

“Hey,” Suga watched as the shorter alpha, who looked to be of high rank, boomed, “Excuse me Sir, vandalising is illegal.”

The alpha began to approach, releasing a calming scent, attempting to oppress him. Ennoshita shivered slightly as it hit his nostrils but carried on outlining the crow he would later immortalize on the cold wall. The alpha walked closer, now within hand-cuffing distance.

Suga waited no longer, pulling the pin and throwing it into the pack of distracted alpha officers. They immediately sprang into action, but they were all too late.

“Daichi-san!” The bald-headed officer was the first to move, lunging towards his Captain, his first instinct to protect the leader of his pack. Daichi however was busy getting black spray paint to the eyes – Ennoshita already in his combat mode. He’d had it beaten into him for the past month with Oikawa, and he was desperate to prove himself to his Boss.

Laying off the spray paint, Ennoshita aimed a fist at the face of the alpha, but having been thrown off, the alpha caught the curb and slipped down banging his head on one of the cop cars. The fist, instead, got his lieutenant, square on the nose, a loud crunching sound echoing in the cramped side road.

The baldies head snapped back, then forward again growling aggressively, blood dripping. The low growl had the omega’s instincts screaming to submit, but Ennoshita had also trained with Suga, and he was a lot more scared of disappointing his boss than this alpha. He growled back, lifting the can to cut off the vision of the officer. His right hook followed the feint and the alpha went down, blood trailing from his ear joining the path made from his broken nose. The omega stepped over the alpha, making sure to kick his stomach as he passed. He went to help Suga.

But, Suga was finished. He stood surrounded by bodies, taser in hand. It was simple guerilla warfare – smoke ‘em, then fry ‘em, and though they had been feisty, they simply dropped after two shocks.

“Do we brand them Bo– “

Suga hissed at Ennoshita who swallowed, “Uh... I mean... Crow-san?”

Suga pulled down his mask, and watched his sigh condense in the cold air, “No. Officers are too cute in their uniforms to be branded. Besides, they’re not our targets. Which speaking of, we should – “

An acrid scent filled the air, and Suga froze, spinning to look at the bodies on the ground. Though twitching, none of them were conscious enough to properly leak their scents that much, none conscious enough to even feel emotions. But one stirred, blood leaking from a wound in his head. His clothing set him apart from the rest, clothing that of a higher officer. His eyes were beginning to open, and Suga hurriedly dragging his mask back over his lips knew that he couldn’t let that happen. The first and last thing the alpha would see that night was a boot coming down hard on his head.

“Grab your cans and finish the crow.” Suga started again, tersely, “After that, we’re leaving.”

Ennoshita hurriedly finished the crow.

“Front or back boss?”

“You’ll go in the front, help with the branding. I’ll get their vans, and ready them for transport.”

They left the alley and the bleeding and unconscious police officers, now walking in the light, not bothering to hide. Suga lifted his hand to his ear and turned on the earpiece.

“Rook, are you receiving me?”

“Loud and clear, Crow-san.” Came the reply, monotonous but slightly mocking. Suga heard the background clacking of keys, and slapping of a mouse on a trackpad.

“Hello?” Another voice crackled onto the line, small and wary, “Uh… Rook-san I have eyes on the police sniper, opposite the blue warehouse. Can you tell – “

“Magpie.” Suga interjected, “Jay and I are walking along the main road, coming up to the warehouse. Could you take care of the enemy sniper please?”

“Shoot to kill?” The reply came immediately. Up on the lip of the apartment building Tadashi was already adjusting his position, shifting until he was comfortable.

“Shooting arm, shooting hand. And calf – that’ll delay the time it’ll take from him to find his unconscious comrades.” Suga hummed into the earpiece, kicking a rock absentmindedly.

The line went dead from Tadashi’s end.

Suga, struck by a sudden thought, turned to the warehouse opposite and look up. Faintly, just faintly, if he strained his eyes to see past the brightly shining streetlamp, he could see the gleaming barrel of a well-oiled sniper rifle. He lifted his hand in a casual wave and smiled.

“Boss, you’re evil.”

“Jay-kun, I can’t say you’re any better.” Suga reached over and flicked the man’s ear, chuckling.

“Let’s go rescue these pups.”

• ••

Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile from his position close to the clouds. He had the highest vantage of anyone in the area, bar a few odd apartment buildings here and there. But they were too far away and too full of people to be of any use. He’d chosen this job hen on the field as an excuse not to talk to people, not to see but through the scope of his rifle. And that didn’t count, cause the ones he saw would die shortly after.

Shifting uncomfortably, he hated the lying down, he peered through the scope. Down coming up to the warehouse were two black clad figures. Both males. One in a blazer, one in a hoodie. The one in a blazer had a hand to his ear and was talking quite openly to whatever voices he was hearing. The other man stood quietly, pockets bulging with hands and some other things with sharp edges. Tsukishima narrowed his eyes as he strained to make out their faces.

The breeze blew his hair back and pushed the hood off the second man – only to reveal him wearing a black medical-looking mask. His black eyes glittered, but not as much as the silver hair of the next man, his – wait what was he doing?

The silver haired man had turned to face the building he was on, and was looking now directly at him, lifting his hand in a casual wave. He smiled brightly in the illumination of the streetlight before turning back to his unhooded partner.

Tsukishima had only time to feel his blood run cold before a ripple of pain overcame him. From somewhere to his west there must have been another sniper. His hand went up to feel his shoulder. It came back wet with blood, and the pain started to, instead of ripple, sear through him like a hot fire. His shooting arm went limp where it sat, resting on the gun, the gun no longer resting on him. He could barely process what had happened before he saw another bullet bury itself into the middle of his right hand. He collapsed, falling off the lip of the building onto the level walking space the top provided. Uniform now soaked in blood and smeared with seagull shit, he bit down on his tie trying not to scream.

It was all he could do not to faint.

It was all he could do to pull himself to the lip and push his head over the top, desperate to see where someone could’ve shot him from. Desperate to see how someone, got the better of him – Tsukishima Kei.

Across the sky and open air, Tadashi watched the man struggle. He watched the alpha pull himself over the lip again – backing into the line of fire. He watched the man look to the sky, eyes desperately searching. Tadashi tightened his grip on his gun, as the man’s eyes roamed over his far building. But it was the dead of night and Tadashi was hidden by shadows and height, and the alpha’s eyes missed, skimming right past.

Now, all Tadashi had to do was wait. Wait until he showed his calf.

Tsukishima was in a bind. He had to get back to his unit, but his heart stopped him from moving, as the blood gushed out of his arm, fingers sticky and saturated with blood. It was all he could do to not look at the horrifying amount that had now started dripping on the building. His right hand hurt like nothing he’d ever felt – the long bullet having ripped right through. He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach lurched. He desperately needed paramedic help.

He knew he something had gone horribly wrong. There was either a horrible coincidence or a rat or a mole and he something smelt fishy. Really fishy, but slightly sweet. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself, now was not the time to go insane. But his aplhan nostrils had never betrayed him before, and right now he smelt a distinctly omegan scent – like smoky fish and honey. His stomach lurched again, and for a minute he stopped paying attention to the obvious danger he was in.

That minute nearly cost him his life.

Legs working fine he pulled himself up, torso over the lip, leaning heavily on it. He needed his gun. The two men were still walking below, he could still get them. He’d been practicing with his left hand lately.

Pulling his soaking hand from his arm, feeling the blood gush down, he paled and put his left hand out to steady himself. Damnit. He’d lost more blood than he thought.

Tadashi watched patiently, eyes fixed on the suffering figure. Magpie’s were patient, watchful with sharp eyes and sharper beaks. They defended their territory, from their place in the sky, waiting until the right moment to strike. And when it was – Tadashi watched the man lift his leg to hold his gun to, a makeshift position to shoot – when it was…

…They swooped.

A bullet buried itself into the middle of Tsukishima’s calf. He screamed in pain, seeing nothing but red – figuratively and literally. He had to get down to his boss, if the unknown sniper was this good – his whole unit may be dead. Clutching at his leg, not minding his right arm now, he crawled off towards the stairs. He had to reach his unit. He had to.

“Rook-san, the police sniper has been taken care of. Is there anything else?” Tadashi touched his hand to his ear, his voice steadier than it had been all night. He always felt calmer after shooting – the control he’d always craved.

“Good job Tadashi.” Came the ever-so-quick reply, “Boss has loaded up a van, but there’s more than we expected – we need another driver.”

“On it. May I ask what Jay and the Raven-senpais are doing?” Tadashi quickly wiped down his rifle and began to pack it back into his case.

“They’re working on cleanup and branding.”

“Ah, ok. Thanks Rook-san.” Tadashi turned his earpiece off, knowing that if any important information was needed, Kenma would turn it on remotely.

Branding meant they were leaving their calling card – branding meant they were expanding their territory. Tadashi smiled softly as he made his way down empty stairs – tonight was going to be hectic. But, that was just what it meant to save.

Chapter Text

Hinata could not still his thumping heart as he walked. He feared Oikawa might hear it, might stop him from fulfilling his brotherly duties. His hand kept creeping to brush his holster, and his eyes kept flitting around, looking – searching, hoping – to find someone to shoot.

“Raven.” It would’ve felt odd to speak his own code name, but the two had been sharing this name for years.

Oikawa hummed an acknowledgement, his head turned to scan the passing building – they were one away from the blue warehouse.

“I’m going to leave the branding to you.”

It was a bold statement and Oikawa stiffened instinctively, for himself and for his fellow. The branding was akin to the clean-up, it would be taken care of when all other jobs were done. It was one of the most intimate experiences they would have with their enemies as well, dangerous in the uncertainty of consciousness. But it wasn’t bold like that, no, the branding was never allocated to one – only to all, and Hinata had just told Oikawa to start branding before the enemies were taken out completely. In other words, Hinata would handle this himself.

“Chibi-chan, that’s not exactly very smart.” He continued humming, a sad little tune that echoed in the empty space.

They stepped out of the shadows to approach the looming blue warehouse. Hinata’s fists clenched around his gun, and Oikawa began to crack his knuckles, tongue flashing out over dry lips, “I’m not letting you have all the fun. She’s like my sister too.”

“Not biological.”

“In the pack we’re all family.”

Hinata couldn’t contest that. He knew Oikawa was nearly as angry as he was.

“Fine ya grand king.”

“Cute, chibi-chan, real cute.”

He glared up at the older man, then turned back to survey the building. Touching his ear piece he opened the line to Kenma, “Rook-san, we’re at the building. Do you have details about it?”

“Pulling up blueprints now.”

Oikawa opened his line as well, listening in to the sound of keys and a chair rolling across the floor. He could only imagine what the man’s room looked like – probably filled floor to ceiling with computers, wall to wall.

“Okay, we have the main entrance, rolling door and your standard. Back entrance is just a standard exit – though Oikawa could use it as an entrance. Windows second floor – too high for jumping. Internal layout suggests hostages–“ Hinata cringed “- ground floor, second floor admin. Possible parking behind main entrance rolling doors. Mainly steel internally, so minimal gun use in lieu of ricochets.” Kenma spoke in crisp clear sentences.

“Ta, thanks Rook-san.”

They closed the line and looked at each other. They had the information they needed, and could start now – but something kept them standing there, staring at each other.

Hinata raised his hand first, fist clenched. Oikawa did the same, and they knocked knuckles – then pulling back he unclenched his fist, drawing it into the classic symbol of scissors. Hinata pulled his hand back to scissors as well. A game of sicssors, paper, rock – and they’d pulled a draw.

“We’ll finish this later.” They whispered in unison. It was their way of telling the other to not die, to be there for the other. Hinata lightly running towards the front rolling door and Oikawa jogging for the back – they knew that, and they felt safe in that knowledge.

Hinata stood in front of the door for what seemed like an eternity, heart thumping in time to the watch on his wrist. Wait until the second hand reaches 12, we strike together. Breath Sho, come on. He watched it tick – hands gripping his gun tighter and tighter – but loose around the trigger. It tick, tick, ticked. 12.

The roller door slammed up.

Silhouetted by moonlight, the man looked like some sort of short devil, gun raised.

A white van stood stationary in the garage, and six large alphan men were pulling scared omegan females from it. When the roller door slid up, they looked up – hopefully? Hinata couldn’t see – but froze when they saw him. Before they could even shove a pup in front of them as a shield, Hinata had shot three.

“What the f–“

The last three had some sense, rolling behind the protection of the van. One, who had a gun on him started shooting, Hinata dodged behind the van. Now it was only them and the van. The cages stacked against the walls, shifted with moving bodies. Hinata didn’t dare look, he was having enough trouble as it was keeping himself and his scent under control.

Yelling started up from the back of the warehouse. Gunshots echoed in the space and as the three men looked behind – the omega took advantage, leaned around the side of the van and shot one in the shoulder, the other two in their thighs. He ran towards them, one held up their gun.

He jumped pushed off the side of the van, and as he spun a 360° in the air – he fired. Speed demon. The bullets hit the right hands of the three men and the gun was dropped.

“We have raiders!” Someone finally had the sense to scream.

Hinata wasn’t deterred by the raised alarm, he had started to feel that adrenaline rush of raiding, breaking and entering and getting the fuck away with it. He pushed on, running forwards, making sure to avoid the bleeding men on the way. The men slipped in and out of consciousness as they attempted to stop the blood flow.

He ran. More unnamed alphas rushed down the stairs, and out of small rooms – some of which he also smelt the scents of distressed omegas. His lip curled. The ones that did were aggressive – attempting to dominate him with their scents. But they were too acrid, while Hinata’s omegan instincts were begging him to submit to them, all he had to think about was Oikawa kicking ass two rooms over and he was set. Besides – he was not as receptive to scents anymore, not as much as these pups.

Hinata shot down everyone in his path, first immobilizing them, then rendering them unarmed. When he ran out of ammo, he brawled. Though he wasn’t as powerful or technical as Oikawa, he was fast.

“He’s an omega!” Someone yelled from the floor, pupils dilating as they realized.  

He’s an omega. Omega. The five men that were slowly approaching Hinata stopped being slow. Even unable to smell his scent – the room was permeated with the acrid scents of distressed omegas, it was the instinct, the age-old voice in their brain telling them, dominate, oppress, make him submit, make him yours.

“Get that brat!” Another screeched.

They pounced.

Five bodies collided as fists began to rain down. Heavy, heavy hands hit Hinata’s small body. But that was nothing to what he had experienced before. Hinata, from his belt grabbed his dagger, and slashed wildly and the broad mass of bodies.

Alphan blood mixed with sweat and a few tears. The scent of the alpha’s with the presence of blood became nearly overpowering, but Hinata kept moving forwards. Natsu, I’m coming for you. Just the thought of his baby sister being here cause a spike in his anxiety. His aggressive angry scent spilled from his control, and boy, how the alphas recoiled. Well, at least the ones that weren’t bleeding out on the floor.

It was as if someone had squeezed straight ginger into the alphas eyes. The normal sweet earthy undertones of the sunflower were nearly completely gone – replaced instead with the smell of the taste of sunflower seeds – bitter, pungent. It mixed with the ginger, and became nearly overpowering, nearly acidic, completely foul to the nose who smelt it. The alpha’s eyes watered, and the two that were still standing – had to fight to control their instincts. Because those instincts were sending them messages, their brain couldn’t fulfill.

This man was attacking them! They couldn’t ‘get it’. They couldn’t initiate anything intimate.

Taking advantage his loss of control caused them, Hinata stabbed one in the shoulder and pulled down. He received a punch to the head from the other alpha, whose pants seemed awfully tight. Hinata’s head snapped back – it was a heavy blow. His ears began to ring, and as he stumbled back, he saw someone else approaching.

Oikawa crescent kicked the alphas head and taking advantage of the momentum he gained, slammed the alpha into the ground. Knocking him cold.

Finally, free from the fighting, Hinata had time to rein in his scent and lift his nose. Where was his sister’s scent? Where was she?

“Raven, I’ll take the upstairs. You find your sister.” Oikawa noted the way the other omega was anxiously searching.

Hinata didn’t see the other man leave, didn’t even acknowledge the statement, he’d locked onto his sister’s scent. It wasn’t looking hopeful. It directed him to the only remaining occupied small room. And he’d been in enough raids to know what these sorts of rooms were used for. He broke into a run, crossing the room in an instant, and not even preparing himself first, flung open the door.

His sister was pressed into the corner, shirt torn, chest exposed. The alpha was snarling down at her, “If you don’t obey me, I’ll break your pretty little face as well as your asshole.”

She whimpered and then saw Hinata.

 “SHOYOU!” She screamed, as the alpha went to claim what he thought, what he thought, was his.

She began to wiggle her way out of the corner but was grabbed by the thick calloused hand of the alpha. Hinata stood partially in shock, partially to try and control the devastating rage he felt. The alpha turned to look at him, still holding his sister, dwarfing her, “Ah so you’re the brother ay? Looks like you’re another pretty little omega. Want daddy to knot you too?”

He saw red. Hinata launched himself at the man, but the man had pulled the smaller Hinata in front. New tears leaked from Natsu’s eyes. Before his rational mind could stop him, the dagger in Hinata’s hand found itself flying through the air.

The alpha screamed.

Blood streamed down his face, the hilt of the dagger shining from the middle of the man’s eye. The scream was short lived though as Natsu pulled herself from his grasp and kicked the man in the balls. He wheezed and doubled over grabbing at his crotch, blood dripping from his face onto the concrete floor.

Hinata stalked forwards, wrenched the dagger from the now mangled eye eliciting another soul-shattering scream. Grabbing the hair of the man, Hinata pulled the man in close, until they were eye-to-eye.

“Don’t you fucking dare lay a hand on my sister ever again. I’ll kill you and your family. I’ll find you and I’ll make you watch your family die in a pit of acid. I’ll dismember you while you’re still living. You fucking bastard, you’ll rot in hell with the rest of your kind.” He hissed into the alphas ear, his acrid omegan scent overpowering. A wet patch grew on the alpha’s pants. This wasn’t what his instincts told him would happen. His body racked with shivers as he stared at the omega – the one whose brown eyes shone not with malice and loathing, but a cold desire to kill.

And to kill did Hinata want. Hinata wanted to drag his knife down every crevice of the man’s body, skin him alive. Drip him in weak acid, getting stronger every time – make him feel the horrid feeling of your skin literally crawling. Make him hate every wandering touch. Make him feel the same helplessness and weakness his sister had felt.

Hinata wracked his brain for any excuse to harm the alpha further. His scent rose in plumes of anger, and his sister ran to comfort him. The alpha fell back clutching at his eye, moaning in pain.

“Shoyou, he… he…” Natsu gulped, hands trembling as they wrapped themselves around his thin midsection.

His hand went up to comfort her, but then. No, she didn’t. Oh yes, she did. His name had rolled so perfectly of her tongue. While a slip-up for Natsu, it was perfect for him.

If this man was let go, he could spill all his name, spill his secrets – his identity could be exposed. That is, if he could spill his name. Hinata’s heart fastened, and shivers rocketed down his spine.

“Natsu, sweetie, I need you to wait outside. Crow-san and Raven-kun are out there. You’ll be safe. I need to care of something.” He glared pointedly at the alpha.

His sister unwrapped her arms from around him, understanding immediately what he was talking about and nodded shortly. But she didn’t leave, her arms wrapped around her exposed chest. Quickly realizing the problem, he removed his own black shirt – through very much blood-stained, and handed it to her. Giving him a kiss on the cheek she turned to go, not looking back once until she got to the door, “Fuck him up Sho.”

She closed the door behind her, ignoring the way the man began to gurgle as he screamed. Something told her the alpha wouldn’t be speaking for the rest of his life.

• ••

Oikawa felt sick as he stared at the cages. Black shirt and loose slacks torn and covered in alphan blood, the caged omegas recoiled when he approached. His heart twinged.

He reached a hand to his ear, “Rook-san, can you get Crow-san on the line?”

A few omegas perked up when they heard the name. The line crackled, answer enough to his question, before a sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Raven? Progress report?” Suga’s voice immediately calmed him, and he immediately became aware of how tense he was. Relaxing slightly he attempted to release a calming scent.

“Enemies unconsciousness, chibi-chan and I divided – his whereabout are unknown. I took care of upstairs and downstairs, together I think we’ve covered thirty people in total. There are more omegas than we thought.”

“What shape are they in?”

“They’re in poor condition. We’ll need two vans. I’m not sure –“

“RAVEN-SAN!”

Oikawa’s head turned so fast, he nearly got whiplash. A girl, dressed in what looked like to be Hinata’s shirt, with unruly red hair and bright eyes launched herself into his arms, knocking him down.

His hand fell from his ear and the line went dead, but he didn’t care. His hands closed tight around the younger girl, “Natsu.”

She was here, she was safe. The worry knot that had tied itself in his stomach loosened completely and went back to being his intestines. No one was going to hurt her. He hugged her tighter.

“Are you okay?” He whispered into her ear, stroking her back.

“Sh- Raven s…saved me.” She stuttered out.

Saved? He pulled back, gave her a once over and decided he didn’t want to know now. She was obviously in shock, and was fighting hard to keep herself together.

“Natsu-san?” A voice croaked from one of the cages. A small omega had wrapped his arms around the bars and now was desperately pressing his face into the metal in attempt to see the man and the girl.

In Oikawa’s opinion, the small omega looked pitiful. His arms were thinner than the bars themselves, and his face had completely shrunken in on itself. His hair was plastered to his forehead, blond bangs barely noticeable, white skin barely there – hidden by a mixture of blood and feces.

Male omegas were always treated harsher in these conditions – while the females were often raped and beaten, they were at least kept with semi-full stomachs. This boy looked close to death.

Natsu flung herself at the cage, “It’s ok. They’re my family. They’re–“

“We’re here to help. Everything is going to be ok.”

Suga and Ennoshita had entered the chat – coming in from the dark night into the brightly lit warehouse. The former immediately went to the cages, grabbing a pin from his hair as he did. Deftly unlocking the first cage he gently lifted the malnourished male omega from it. The boy was so light, the Suga was able to carry him in his arms, hands patting his dirtied back.

“Shhh.” The boy sobbed into his shoulder and Suga immediately released a calming scent, “I’ve got you now. No one can hurt you.”

He put the boy down, and turned to face the rest of the cages – about thirty-four of them stacked two high along the wall. His eyes softened when they landed on Natsu, but he didn’t address her, instead going immediately to the next cage.

The freed boy was shepherded by Oikawa, who led him to the first van, “I promise we’re not going hurt you okay? We’re going to take you to our hospital where you can get treated. Crow-san will take care of you.”

“Crow-san? Like, Corvid Crow-san?”

Oikawa nuzzled the distressed young omega, “Yes, exactly. The Crow family will take care of you.”

The boy relaxed visibly, and nuzzled into Oikawa’s shoulder, as the older omega released his own calming scent. Oikawa lifted his head and started to scent the young omega – claiming him as his kin, “Do you reckon you can handle sitting in this van again?”

He felt muscles tense in his grasp and the boy’s breath hitched, “Could you come with me?”

“Yeah. I can. I’ll join you.”

More omegas were shepherded by Suga to Oikawa, and they began to load the first van. The malnourished bodies stunk of blood and feces, and any normal person would’ve felt disgusted to be packed into a van with them, but Oikawa didn’t. When Tadashi arrived with another car, he didn’t even blink, continuing to release his own calming scent. Though of course, Suga’s scent was the real catalyst for calm here. It always had been.

“Raven,” The silver-haired man approached the back of the van and leaned in, absentmindedly taking the hand of a small girl as she sniffled, “We need you out here to help Jay-kun. I’ll take these cuties back to get medical treatment.”

Oikawa nodded and unwrapped at least four sets of hands from his toned chest. The thin arms could’ve so easily snapped with the slightest pressure, and he felt his heart squeeze in sadness again. No, you have a job to do you retard. Now’s not the time. He maneuvered his way out, vacantly listening to Suga explain to the frightened pups.

“I’m going to close these doors okay? I promise that we’re not going somewhere scary. We have facilities to give you food and give you medical treatment okay? Yes, my dear, nests and everything.”

He left the parking area of the warehouse quickly, ignoring the way his heart twitched.

Ennoshita stared at the first man knocked out on the stairs. His head lolled at an awkward angle and blood as slowly seeping all down his front. Removing his branding iron from his hoodie pocket, he knelt on the stairs, feeling his left shoulder twinge as he steadied himself. Flicking the switch on the side, he watched the metal start to glow, first red then orange.

With the utmost concentration he positioned the iron directly above the alpha’s semi-exposed neck. It was all he could do to keep himself back from wiping the area with a alcohol wipe, the urge rising from deep inside of him. Breathing in, then out – he gently applied the burning hot piece of iron to the alpha’s neck.

When he lifted it, he stared at his masterpiece – the word ‘LOST’ suspended in the body of a crow. This tattoo would forever mark them as an enemy – as someone who awakened the beast that was the Corvids. It would make them a target from their supporters, it would forever hinder their lives – reminding them of the pain they’d caused to others. Pride surged through his body, and the omega elated, moved on to the next target.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hearing someone climbing the stairs he whirled, branding iron raised, ready to knock out the alpha he’d just marked. But there was no alpha there, just Oikawa with his hands raised defensively. Ennoshita lowered the iron and nodded, showing respect, “Do you need one Raven-san?”

“Jay-kun.” The elder mocked back, “I can’t mark them if I don’t have an iron.”

Use your teeth. Ennoshita bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking his thoughts, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes travel to his elders neck – the beautiful skin marred by bond marks. Marks. Plural. It was a rare thing to see.

“You mark them well enough with your kicks.” It was a weak response but kinder. He gestured to the alphas lying askew on the ground.

“Haha.” Oikawa spat, “Do you have a spare to spare your superior.”

His voice still held that mocking tone, but Ennoshita caught the tense undertones. The serious man fished another iron from the depths of his hoodie pocket and handed it to the other. They knelt and got to work, slowly moving to each unmoving body, each time the smell of burning flesh filling the air.

In the lower areas of the building, the alphas were starting to stir. Branded by Ennoshita before awakening, they slapped hands to their necks as both pain and the distinct smell of sizzling flesh filled the air. But it wasn’t their skin that sizzled.

The three alphas that occupied the garage room ripped the sheet from their bodies – “What fuckwit put this on us?” – courtesy of Tadashi trying hard to console abused omegas, and clamped hands immediately over their bleeding bits. Hand to leg, hand to shoulder, hand to upper thigh and then – hands to noses. It was futile. Nothing could stop a sensitive alphan nose once they picked up the scent, but this scent was nothing they wanted to smell.

Ginger. Ginger and the smell of sizzling, burning, frying flesh. The sounds of popping – like bacon, but if bacon had been dripped wild nuts and corn kernels. The combination had one retching on the floor. The least injured went to stand – hand stuck to his shoulder in an attempt to stem the blood, pain nearly overcoming him but a horrid curiosity filling his stomach.

He tracked the scent.

He opened the door.

The alpha collapsed immediately, forgetting his pain, forgetting everything but the sight that had etched itself onto the surface of his eyes.

Hinata stood over a shaking man. An omega loomed over the shrunken alpha. In his fist he clenched the tongue of the man, but the tongue was no longer connected to the head. Blood covered every surface and with each breath the alpha took he gurgled.

No words were said.

None needed to be said.

The vicious grin on Hinata’s face told the story to the observing man, and from his heart sprouted an emotion he’d never experienced. Heart stopping. Soul gutting. Fear. The subject’s face told the exact same story, but he put it into a scream as Hinata descended again. A gurgling blood-curdling scream echoed in the space.

Hinata pulled back. His bare chest was covered with congealing red blood. He snarled in the most primal manner – even though his voice remained high, and it didn’t reach the bottom of his lungs – it conveyed everything that needed to be said. The fucker had made his last mistake.

He grabbed the branding iron from his other specially modified holster and held it up. It hadn’t yet cooled, but he flicked the switch turning up the heat.

The alpha gurgled in an attempt to speak and his hands went up. His eyes were green pin pricks in a sea of red, his mouth an ocean of death. Hinata plunged the branding iron to his bloody neck – at precisely the point where his sisters bond mark would’ve been, that is, had the pup-napping been successful.

“You lost.” He whispered low into the alphas ear and pulled back for the final time.

Hinata didn’t even glance in the observer’s direction as he left, merely adjusting his face mask, and pinching his nose as the pungent smell of urine drifted towards him.

Today it had been the alphas that had lost, omegas that were found, and the Corvids that remained unconquered.

Chapter Text

Daichi bolted awake and instantly regretted it. His head throbbed painfully, and his eyes didn’t seem to want to open all the way. The last thing he remembered was a beautiful blurry face silhouetted by silver hair and a boot making contact with his nose. His heart monitor beeped worriedly from beside him.

Lifting his hand, he gingerly touched the bandages so graciously wrapped around his throbbing head. He must’ve knocked it as he fell. He blushed and was almost thankful for the smoke that had shielded his blunder from his subordinates’ view.

Though Daichi was flustered, the Captain had no time to be sitting around in a hospital, recuperating. What bullshit was that? He slowly sat the rest of the way up and pulled the covers off him. His body was badly bruised. Come on, you got this Sawamura, he attempted to encourage himself, pulling the blood pressure monitor from his arm. He swung his legs off the bed and let out a large grown as he did.  

He needed to find out the conditions of the rest of his unit, because a horrible sinking feeling told him some of them might not have made it home. He began to panic.

Stumbling out of his room, he ignored the way the nurses asked him to return to it. Instead he grabbed the arms of the closest nurse. The small omega stiffened in his arms, not used to the skin-to-skin contact.

“Where is my unit?” He demanded. An anxious scent began to roll off him.

The omega brushed his hands off and visibly relaxed when he let go. Waving him forward she began to walk off at a clipped pace. Hall after hall, and a few corners later she opened a large door unceremoniously, “The majority are in here, one is currently undergoing surgery, and will be moved to the ICU afterwards.”

His heart nearly burst in his chest, “Who?”

The nurse took the clipboard from a stand inside the door and scanned the list of occupants. It was obvious that the person had been kept in this room before the doctors realised the extent of his injuries.

“Tsukishima Kei.” The nurse put the clipboard back and before Daichi could even process the two words that had spilled from her mouth she was speaking again, “You may stay, but do not excite them. Their hearts are in a weak state.”

“What happened?”

There was a cough from behind a curtain and Daichi gently opened it to see Iwaizumi sitting up in his bed, “Tasered.”

Daichi pulled a seat towards the bed and the nurse left them to their discussion. Iwaizumi coughed again, then grimaced, hands going to his sternum. He oozed anxiety; he had never done well in hospitals. The Captain eased himself into the chair, combating the anxious scent with a calming one, wincing as he sat.

“Looks like you didn’t get off too easy either. Your face looks like you got kicked.”

“That’s because I did.” Daichi grumbled head resting on his hands, fingers avoiding the sore spots.

Iwaizumi coughed again, hacking into his hands. He must have been tasered somewhere near his lungs. An internal itch he could not scratch.

“Do you remember anything?”

The bed-ridden alpha tilted his head, thinking. Daichi waited patiently, but his foot tapped the floor a steady beat. His mind was still foggy, and his head hurt – but he needed to gather information

“I remember the smoke bomb – it came from the shadows behind our cars. I think some people were there watching us. And then, I was coughing, I tried to get my gun but there was like this flash and all of a sudden, a man was in front of me. He had silver-looking hair, but the smoked masked his face so I couldn’t make out any features. Sorry Captain.”

“It happened to me as well.” A gruff voice notified them of Officer Kageyama’s presence. He stood on the other side of the bed, favouring his left side. Daichi wondered how he was injured, “Except before I got tasered to the thigh not the chest.”

There it was. “Same man?” He asked.

The black haired alpha nodded, “Same man for all of us bar you and Tanaka. Though I couldn’t see what happened, I’m guessing you got beat?”

“Watch your mouth Kageyama.” Daichi growled, feeling rather inadequate. His head throbbed and he leaned back in his chair groaning, “You didn’t come out looking too good yourself.”

That was a blatant lie. Despite being tasered, the two alphas staring at him looked fine. Sure they were a few shades too pale and sweat had plastered their usual buoyant hair to their heads, but there were no bruises to complain or make snide comments about. He’d caught a glimpse of himself in one of the hospitals very reflective windows and well, he didn’t really want to ‘catch another glimpse’ any time soon.

“Do you remember anything Captain?”

“Yeah, I do. I saw the man’s face, though I can’t remember it clearly. So, if you excuse me, I’m going back to the office to start searching for something that may jog it. This may just be the breakthrough we need.” He stood a bit too fast and wobbled slightly, the action not going unmissed, “Keep me updated on Tsukishima and the others.”

Before either the alphas could protest their Captain had left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Iwaizumi growled in displeasure, “He’s going to kill himself one day by doing that.”

“Doing what?” Terushima asked, appearing beside Kageyama.

Iwaizumi had to remind himself the Terushima had transferred earlier that year to their unit, he wouldn’t know their Captain’s destructive tendencies. He bit his lip in worry, “Ignoring his own injuries while pursuing his goal. He won’t take help from anybody.”

Kageyama nodded, “He has to do it himself. It makes sense Iwaizumi.”

“Good lord, we’re not called a unit for nothing!” He snarled, “You’re not alone in the world. Get your head out of your arse Kageyama.”

He began to cough again, and his monitor beeped angrily. A nurse bustled into the room. Blood spilled down Iwaizumi’s lips.

“Go back to your beds, go! The lot of you. He needs to rest now.”

Terushima and Kageyama slinked off, probably to sneak out of the hospital. Iwaizumi accepted the help, and the nurse lifted up his shirt to check the welts the taser had left on his chest. But even as the nurse did so, his eye remained fixed on the back of the door. He didn’t need as much help as his captain did, Iwaizumi wasn’t the one that needed to rest.

• ••

The rolling door slid open with a bang, and it echoed throughout the empty West estate. The moon hung high in the sky and distantly Suga wondered if the police officers had made it to the hospital. It didn’t matter though, all that mattered was that none of them had seen their faces. Because if they had – everyone would suffer.

He waved to Tadashi. The omega nodded into the rear view mirror and began to back the van into the warehouse, bumping over the threshold.

They were only only block away from their ‘home’ gym, and Suga hopes none of the omegas would put two and two together. He hoped it would remain a nameless location – somewhere in the West Estate, somewhere safe. The warehouse would remain without specification, in fact he hoped none of the omegas would realise they were in yet another massive shed. The interior had been done up in a makeshift hospital.

The omegas inside the van yelped as Suga opened the doors and he instinctively released a calming scent as he lifted the first child down. She whimpered into his arms.

“When I get you down would you mind all going into that room over there?” He pointed to an open door approximately ten metres away. The scared children recoiled back in abject hotel — they still didn’t know who to trust. Suga sighed, “It’s just a room filled with beds, don’t panic.”

The omegas stayed where they were, gripping each other’s hands, knuckles white. Tadashi popped his head around the side smiling softly, “It’s okay, I promise.”

Something in the Tadashi’s voice soothes them. Maybe it was the softness he radiated; quiet voice different from Suga’s velvet purr. Maybe it was his naturally anxious temperament which told them that they weren’t alone, that maybe this omega in front of them had also been saved. If any of them had guessed that — had dared to say it out loud, they would’ve known the truth. At least, half of the truth.

The first girl Suga had lifted down wrapped her tiny fingers around Tadashi’s, “Promise?”

“Promise.” He smiled softly back down at her, “But first I should probably let your other friends out.”

He gestured to his right with his free hand and the little girl blushed. She squirmed in her embarrassment, “Sorry…” 

He made to start walking but the girl didn’t let go, and so together they went — her little legs pumping to keep up.

Suga looked on, eyes softening slightly. It had taken forever for Tadashi to open up to touch again, and so to take it from a stranger was an immense step forward. Though that being said, no one had ever wanted to get to know him let alone touch him. He’d been marked untouchable — in the same way they had marked their enemies that night. There was a reason that Tadashi never took part in the branding.

He turned back to the omegas in the van, “Let’s get you guys done and get you somewhere nice to sleep.”

The beds were full. Every set of sheets moved in time with small chests moving. Sounds of measured breaths filled Suga with a satisfaction he’d never be able to forgo. He stepped past each one, making sure each omega was well covered and sleep properly. Any dead omega would frighten the rest.

When he got to the end of the room he spun and began to check the other side of the room. The open curtains around each bed fluttered softly as he walked past, checking pulse and breathing alike. All of the were safe now.

Tomorrow they would start asking questions, but tonight he had to find the rest of his Corvids.

He touched a hand to his ear, “Rook. Copy?”

“Loud and clear Crow-san. What do you need?”

“Do you have enough eyes in here to monitor the omegas? And, or, eyes on the Ravens and Jay? They haven’t returned. Were there backups at other warehouses that weren’t taken care of?” Suga’s voice pitched in worry. He had walked out of the room so as to not wake the omegas with his anxious scent. Tadashi, who was cleaning the cars’ interior, picked up on the scent and shot him a worried look.

“Jay is spreading the word, and sending pursuers a warning. He’s informed me that he’ll be going home straight after, because he has an early shift tomorrow. He wants to prep the ink for you.”

Suga half-smirked. That sly Ennoshita knew his post raid rituals.

“The Ravens have gone to the gym. I have eyes on them, but the lights are too low to make out anything. They’ve gone into the office —-“

“Right. No cameras.” Suga pinches the bridge of his nose. He’d put no cameras in there. Their plans had to be kept secret, kept out of the hands of any tech savvy person, which mean keeping everything in paper and files, away from cameras and dashboard cams, mics and ear pieces, “Thanks Rook. Are you able to monitor the beds?”

“Yeah I am.” His voice was cut off as the line dropped, though not by Suga. It was odd but had happened before. The man had never questioned Suga before so the silver haired man brushed it off, not one to pry unnecessarily.

“Tadashi!” He called out, feeling safe to speak his name. The omega lifted his head, and turned off the hose he was washing the interiors with. Murky water ran down the tail end of the car, covered the glass lights that glinted in the pale moonlight.

His big eyes questioned Suga, What, have I done something wrong? Always assuming the worst. His body nearly folded in on itself as he tried to assume a non-threatening, submissive pose.

Suga felt a growl bubble in his throat. The trauma still hadn’t settled in his junior, rearing its ugly head and ugly habits.

“You don’t need to do that Tadashi. Keep your head up.” He was in front of him in a flash, releasing his scent but keeping it neutral. The omega in front of him, relaxed but didn’t move out of his submissive pose. Suga had to forcefully put his hands on his shoulders and push them back, “Seriously, what happened to the Tadashi when sniping? You’re a completely different person on and off the field.”

“Sorry Suga.” He bobbed his head, noticeably avoiding the question. Though it was more of a rhetorical question, both of them knowing exactly why Tadashi had gotten into sniping in the first place. He pulled Suga’s hands from his shoulders, and took a step back – exiting the protective blanket of smell. His nose was twitching and he was ready to sneeze – even omegan scents he blanched at. “Wha… What do you need me to do?”

Suga eyed him carefully, looking for the tell-tale signs of a wild Tadashi in a ‘lockdown’ episode. The man would often retreat so far into himself that he would be impossible to reach for days at a time. It was his way to disengage with the world, but it was dangerous.

“Can you keep an ear out for the pups? I’ve got Rook on the eyes, but I need you on the ears. I’m going to find the Ravens. They didn’t turn on the lights when they got home, so I guess something major has happened.”

“Mm, okay.” Tadashi nodded and then said in an impossibly soft voice, “It’s probably Hinata.”

Suga thanked him quickly and grabbing a long overcoat, hurried off into the cold night, nearly running past the warehouses. He knew every block, every street, every rock on the road. When he saw a blood trail, he picked up his pace. What had the little pup done this time?

• •• 

Daichi stared at the wall in a haze. It was late, very late. Two, maybe three am? But he couldn’t stop. What was that face he’d seen? His memories blurred together in a frustrating soup of feelings and scents, sights and sounds. He ran his hand gingerly through his hair, avoiding the parts where his head throbbed.

“Were they part of the pup-nappers? Or a different group all together? Help or hurt? Rivals, gangs? Foreign police, private investigators?” He mumbled to himself, “Good intent maybe? Rotten behaviour, but if they helped then…”

He trailed off and stumbled back to his computer, pulling up the database the police kept of everyone. It was an official thing, everything was recorded on here from the day of birth to day of death of any individual. He clicked on the ‘Advanced Search’ and hurriedly tried to enter some of the parameters he though he remembered.

Silver Hair.

That’s as far as he got.

Alpha or Omega? His eyes darted to the next set of parameters. Well considering the man took out his whole squad, he was fairly sure Mr. Silver Hair was an alpha.

When he clicked enter, over 50 applicants came up. Too many, but none of them in the Port. He sighed, leaned back in his chair and felt the room sway. No. He couldn’t fall asleep.

He grabbed the phone on his desk and lifted it.

“Hello? Yes, this is Captain Sawamura Daichi. Could I please get a permit to search Warehouse 352, East Estate?”

The voice crackled on the other end of the line and he nodded, “Uh-huh, I know it’s 3am Ma’am, but this is urgent. Yes. Yes. I’m sorry for taking up your time. Thank you. It means a lot. No, I will not do this again. I’m very sorry. Thank you. Good night.”

He grabbed his coat and ran, dialing another number into his cell on the way.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice snapped into the other end of the line, “Who the fuck is calling me at 3am?”

“Kageyama? It’s your Captain.”

“Shit. Sorry Captain.” The sleepy voice sounded a lot less sleepy, now, and from the rustling sounds it seemed like he was getting out of bed. Good.

“I’ve gotten access to the crime scene, I’m coming around to the share house now.” The car revved as he pulled out of the shared parking space at the offices, “Can you be ready to go?”

“How do you know I’m at home?”

“You hate hospitals.” He replied shortly, “I’ll take that as a yes as well, see you soon Officer.”

He spun the wheel around a corner. His eyes kept un-focusing and refocusing and he struggled to keep them centered on the road ahead. Oh, well. He’d sleep eventually. He had to find answers first. What had that silver-haired man been there for? What had gone down in that warehouse?

It was quite obvious when the two officers walked in. The overpowering smell of omega distress, the cages of faeces and dried blood – it was the missing piece to their puzzle. Their devastating puzzle.

Kageyama stepped over the threshold first, walked forwards and then stopped, not sure if he should believe what his eyes told him. Daichi followed, immediately going for his gun when the smell confronted his nose, but let his hand drop when he saw the devastation. It was war on his eyes.

They stood at the threshold waiting, hackles raised, bodies alert, ready to run or gun down anyone who emerged from the chaos that the blue warehouse held. But they knew no one would rise, at least not in this room — there had been a massacre. It seemed to originate from a small side door, well at least the blood did. Lumps of materials shifted to reveal bodies, chest barely moving. Stale blood oozed from shots on their hands, on their legs.

“Kageyama?” Daichi was the first to break the horrified silence, his voice barely a whisper. He cleared his throat nervously, “Call our hospital – tell them to send paramedics and any of the unit that are able to be discharged early. Then call the office – we need our clean-up crew.”

They walked back out into the crisper night air, but the scent followed them lingering in their noses. As he waited for Kageyama to alert their home police station and the hospital, he looked up at the tall buildings surrounding them. He tried to distract himself from thinking about the silver-haired man, but every time he blinked, he would see the blurry face, black mask gathered under the chin, breath condensed in a cloud of white. Daichi cursed the smoke and haze on unconsciousness that had blocked his view. He needed to find that man, question him. Surely, he hadn’t done this heinous crime? Surely not.

The world blurred as he lowered his head a bit too fast, and he blinked a few times to focus back in on the other alpha with him. Kageyama had finished his call and was now inspecting the roller door, which had blood flicks on this side. It must have been opened.

“Shall we conduct a preliminary search?” He tried to make it look as if we was just thinking about the case and not the face he had nearly seen. Kageyama nodded shortly.

Call done, insurance policy in place in case a perp jumped them they re-entered the frankly, horrifying crime scene.

Kageyama wandered around, eyes searching each nook and cranny. Finding a light switch he turned it on – it only illuminated the horror, each blood splatter a matte red against well-polished concrete floor. He came to a pile of two bodies, one hunched on top of the other. Blood oozed from both their thighs and their right hands. He knelt, going to inspect their hands – the positioning of the shot – but instead found his eyes drawn to a trail of blood. It looked different to the other splatter and scuffles from the front of the large room. It looked as if a bleeding someone had been dragged. It was a blood trail. And it looked fairly recent.

He sniffed it once, twice, three times and was able to pick up the scent. Alphan. He began to follow it, it lead to the small room where in which pooled the largest amount of blood. He opened the door.

“Captain!” It was his instinctive reaction, reaching for his gun, even though the man in front of him could do nothing to hurt him. Dried blood caked the alphas lips, he slumped vaguely upright in the corner. His eyes were open, but glazed over in shock, his chest rising in rapid intervals. The blood in his mouth that hadn’t yet congealed, gurgled with each breath. It was all Kageyama could do not to throw up his shitty hospital meal.

Yet, even in all that blood and madness, it was something entirely different that caught his attention. It was the overwhelming scent of acrid ginger, so overwhelming that even the copper stench of blood could not reach his sensitive alphan nose. That ruled beta off his list. But, he inhaled, his eyes watering, it was oddly alluring, in a way that no alpha’s scent could ever be to him. It smelt vaguely omegan.

Kageyama realised this thought and banished it to the back of his mind. No. That was impossible. It was impossible for omegas to cause this much devastation; it was impossible for an omega to take down an alpha. Is it? The thought that it might’ve been an omega, someone who he was genetically wired to protect frightened him. He backed out of the room slowly. Not too fast either, because though he was scared, something about that scent enticed him, held him in a way no scent had held him before. His instincts began to strain against his control.

“Kageyama! Someone’s conscious!” His Captain barked from another small side room, snapping him out of his thoughts.

As he turned to leave the room, his eye caught on something else. A brand, right on the scent gland of the alpha. A piece of burnt flesh, forever marked. Marked with the symbol of a crow, and the large block letters “LOST”. A shiver went down his spine and he ran to meet his Captain.

Another alpha was in this small room, but Kageyama noted that this one had severely less blood trailing down his front. The only injury that he could see was a badly bruised face and a bleeding right shoulder – probably a gunshot wound. As he entered the room he noted the cuffed hands – his Captains doing, and the first aid kit on the table. Daichi was searching for some alcohol and some bandages.

The man didn’t talk as he was given first aid treatment. He was a victim sure, but he was also a criminal and had to be treated as such. He had to be questioned, they had to find more information. Kageyama searched the man’s eyes for any sort of giveaway, but he merely stared blankly at the opposite wall, eyes glossing over every now and then. Kageyama instead let his eyes roam over the face, taking in the small bruises, the small scuffs, dips and dimples. This face would later be tabbed into their database and given an official criminal record.

He dropped his gaze to his neck and then he saw it. Right on the scent gland.

The same crow.

The same brand.

What did this mean? What did the word ‘lost’ mean to these raiders – so much so that they would burn it into the skin of those who opposed them? And why crow? One glance was all it took to send alarms bells off in his head, a thought leading to another as he began to spiral down clues and conspiracies.

The only thing that pulled him from his thoughts, yet again, was his Captains voice, “Have a little chat with him, ay? The clean-ups are here.”

Daichi put down a little recording device on the table and banged the door shut as he walked out.

It was 4:00 am. Kageyama never expected he’d be interrogating a shivering, haunted-looking alpha at four goddamn o’clock in the morning. He sighed and sat down on the other side of the table. Clicking the recorder on, he cleared his throat, “Please state your name and your age.”

He was going to say profession, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The alpha stared at him, unmoving. Kageyama banged his fist on the table, and released a dominating scent. He didn’t want to be fucking interrogating people at 4:00 IN THE GODDAMN MORNING! The alpha jumped, and shivered again – but there was deeper fear hidden in his eyes. He whispered his name. Kageyama didn’t catch it but he knew the device had.

“Who shot you? Who caused this raid?” His next question came out as clipped and harsh as his first ones. He knew he was being forceful, but the alpha needed to be shown who was boss.

“I can’t”

Can’t? Who’s stopping him?

“Why not.”

The alpha put a hand to his neck, “They’ll find me. They’ll gut me. I’ve been marked.”

He groaned and hunched over, hands pulling at his face in distress. To Kageyama, he seemed to be having some sort of panic attack, “I can never go to the West Side again. My family will avoid me, no one will sell me. Every found –“

He clamped his mouth shut and watched as Kageyama’s face darkened with glee at the slip up, “Tell me, what’s a found? Who have you been marked by? Are you talking about the brand on your neck?”

The alpha clamped his hand over his neck, and began to rock in worry. In fear, “I can’t. I’ll be dead before morning.”

“We’ll keep you safe.”

“NO. You don’t understand.” It was the other man’s turn to slam his fist down on the table – using the arm that wasn’t shot. He face twisted from worry to anger, “Every single person on the street who knows what this is will give me a hard time. Even the normies.”

“Civilians?”

“Yeah, whatever. The gangs –“

So he’s in a gang.

 “– will trample me whenever they see me. I’ve been beat. I’ve lost. Every found will ignore me, anyone related to them will beat me up. I’ll die. I’ll die the minute I walk outside with this mark.”

“Who have you been marked by?” Kageyama pressed the question, ignoring the ramblings of the other man as he began to spiral down his fear’s conjectures. But the alpha merely ignored him back, lamenting about the mark on his neck.

“I can’t even carve it out! Right on the scent gland. I’ve heard of their work but I can believe it’s this accurate. Damn those fucking Corvids and their omega crew. I hope they burn in hell.”

Kageyama stiffened when he heard the word, “Omega, you say?”

It seemed the other alpha had forgotten he was talking to a cop. His pain and his fear seemed to have been forgotten as he rage bubbled to the surface, “Yeah, those fucking bastards decide they can’t handle the natural paths and decide to fuck things up as vigilantes. They’re not helping anyone. Just fucking undermining everything we do, and decide to go absolute batshit while they do it.”

“Batshit?” It was a slip of the tongue, but Kageyama was interested. What sort of omega caused the destruction he’d seen next door? He was a tad fearful but couldn’t stop his curiosity. All the omegas he’d seen were soft and sweet, pampered from day one to housekeep. He’d never heard of anything like this before.

“Didn’t you see the fucking chaos?” The man hissed, “I was the first one to come to, and all my buddies were fucking lying around. I smell this ginger scent of the omega we were fighting, overpowering, right? It’s coming from next door. I drag myself, bleeding like fuck and I see this shorty – barely 5 foot 8 standing over the head unit. He bleeding more blood than I’ve ever seen, and short stack his a fucking tongue clenched in his fist. He’s beating up my boss, and he’s not even the right hand of the Corvids!”

His voice pitched when he reached the end of the sentence, and the final word carried throughout the small space. Who were these Corvids that Kageyama kept hearing about? And what was this with ripping out a fucking tongue? How did the police not know about this?

He flicked the recorder off, “Thanks for your time. One of our crew will come and collect you when we’re down apprehending yours.”

The alpha paled as he realised what he’d just spilled. He hunched over as crippling fear overcame him again. Kageyama rolled his eyes and walked out, not noticing the way the camera in the corner followed his movements out.

He had to tell his Captain, and Kenma had to inform his.

• •• 

“What the fuck do you mean you cut off a tongue? AGAIN?” Suga screeched at Hinata.  

The short man was bathed in blood, bare chested, and his eyes were gleaming. He wasn’t listening to a word Suga was spilling right now, too concentrated  too concentrated on trying to calm down. He was too riled up from the smell of blood and his own aggressiveness –  it took all he had not to start another fight. For once his omegas instincts and his rational mind aligned, he needed to cool off.

Oikawa opened the first aid box, and pulled out some alcohol swabs and a towel. Very carefully he approached the buzzing young man, eyes flicking to the others in permission to touch him. The two older omegas knew that any touch when he was on his state would set him fighting again. And they didn’t want that. They both knew their reaction times weren’t fast enough to deal with his speed.

“What in the name of god did you think it was a fucking good idea to cut off yet another alphas tongue? In such a dangerous raid as well?” Suga had attempted, key word attempted, to keep his voice calm. Anger still clipped the words.

“He touched Natsu.” Hinata growled.

“What?” Both of the omegas stopped in their tracks. A cold, cold anger flushed over them. Natsu, from her quiet position in the corner squeaked. Oikawa trembled silently, hands dropping from tending. Suga clenched his fist, unclenched it as his eyes began to water.

“Oh baby,” All hatred and anger left Suga add as he embraced the girl. His scent betrayed how deep his feelings ran, turning sour, “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I’m okay.” She relaxed into his hold, purring softly, “Sho saved me. I said his name — that’s why he cut the mans tongue off.”

“Understandable then.” Oikawa muttered. He’d been the one supporting an exhausted Hinata back home. He’d been the one to hold him back from dismembering all the others.

His hands still trembled as he applied the disinfectant to Hinayana wounds. Reaching his midsection, he hesitated for a second. An ugly scar snaked it’s way down Shoyou’s middle, and as he went to clean the blood from around it, the omega stopped him.

“I’ll do it Tooru.” A quiet warning. Hinata grabbed the hand towel and gingerly pressed it around his scar. The knobs of ugly scar tissue held Oikawa’s gaze for a split second, but he tore it away, used to them. It was from Hinata’s past, and they knew better then to bring up old memories. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t know already.

“Of course it’s understandable.” Suga purred into Natsu’s hair, rubbing his scent gland against her head. She relaxed even more into his grip, “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him. You should have.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite Suga-san.” Hinata snapped, energy still running high. He caught the affronted look his old friend gave him and sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he handed the towel to Oikawa and turned to him, “Suga-san, you were just telling me off for doing something a lot worse. It is a bit hypocritical.”

“Fuck that Hinata.” Oikawa started, “You should have killed him.”

The door banged open. They all froze and turned to see a sweating Tadashi, face pale. An anxious scent rolled off him.

“You’re going to want to. Rook-san just told me, one of the alphas that was there regained consciousness early, witnessed the whole Hinata episode and spilled.” He gasped, doubling over. He’d obviously just sprinted here and was insanely on edge.

“Police?” Oikawa felt all his muscles tense and he spat the word out into the now silent room.

Tadashi nodded.

“Names?”

“No names.” He stood and turned to the only person he knew that could remedy the situation, “What are we going to do Boss?”

Suga was stilling holding Natsu to him, arms protectively drawn around her. She was the cause, but she wasn’t at fault. It was the alphas, not even them. It was the East Side gangs for not keeping their subordinates in check.

He stared at each of his crew.

“We look after these pups and take care of them. Pick a few choice ones to train and raise. Then we deal with the fuckers that dared to mess with us.”

“How large are we taking this?” Hinata growled. His eyes gleamed with the adrenaline, the fierce instinct he had to protect his family, and to kill anyone who got in his way.

Oikawa, noticing his friends positively dark look, felt his own animal instincts begin to rise. He squashed them before his old habits could raise their ugly head, “How big a fish are we swallowing?”

“East side. All of it. They decided they could lay hands on our sister. They decided they could steal from our territory. They put our family in danger. We’re taking down their Omega Trafficking Syndicate, and replacing it with our own. Fuck those guys.”

“Fuck those guys.” They all murmured.

“Yeah, FUCK THOSE GUYS.” Hinata snarled, Oikawa an echo behind him. Natsu bared her tiny fangs and also snarled, “Get rid of them.”

“Don’t forget the police.”

Suga glanced at Tadashi’s pale form, “Do they know about the existence of the Corvids?”

“Unquestionably.”

Chapter Text

The day was cool but the sun was shining. The Central Markets were alive with tourists and locals alike – the Saturday sunshine breathing life into everyone. Couples hung off each other’s arms and families strolled through the streets, unconcerned with cars – the roads closed.

The Saturday markets were large enough to fit the town, and were a lively bustling event, especially in the very middle, where ferry rides, fishing boats and fish-feeding events were all the craze. It was the Port, a city by the sea – full of places to visit and people to see. But as the streets wound back from the marvellous bay and its rivets in the land, the sights became sadder, the roads covered with more litter, shops are little shadier.

Suga wound his way through the thinner crowds, sidestepping swishing coats and nimble fingers. His own long coat scraped the top of his combat boots – the dark brown fabric blowing the breeze. His silver hair caught the light and sparkled, and he silently cursed how much of a ‘stand-out’ he was in the crowds. He bobbed and weaved through the people.

“Excuse me! Senpai! Senpai!” A little voice jabbered as he passed a small green grocer. He knew it was directed at him, because as soon as the little voice had spoken, a small hand was gripping at his and leading him into the shop.

His first reaction was to flip the person onto the ground and put a bullet through their head for touching him, but he didn’t act on that thought. Instead he smiled down at the young boy, barely eight years old, and allowed himself to be lead to the counter of the shop

“Daddy, Mommy! Uncle Crow is here!”

A bonded couple were working at the till and looked up when they heard their child’s voice. Seeing the silver-haired man, their faces split into grins and their scents spilled happily over their bounds. The shop smelt pleasantly of birchwood.

“Suga-san.” The female omega smiled softly in his direction. She angled her neck in his direction, exposing the long lovely line of neck where her scent gland was located. Her alpha didn’t even growl, disappearing around the back of the store.

A few cm below her scent gland, a lovely small tattoo rippled black. It was a crow in flight, its wings spread wide. In the middle of its body sat five block letters, FOUND. It was a beautiful tattoo, that had weathered the ages well.

“Thank you so much for finding me Suga-san. I wouldn’t be here today if you haven’t.”

“Mary.” He purred happily, “I would save you again and again.”

She blushed. Her child ran around the counter and hugged her leg, he also had a FOUND tattoo on his neck. But it was fresh. Neither of them addressed it, knowing the event was recent in the young boy’s mind. They knew the trauma was as fresh as the tattoo. The little one had yet to present, but because he came from a poorer family, the East Side thought they exploit them. Suga felt a little stir of anger in his gut.

The alpha reappeared carrying a large paper bag of bulging items. He leaned in, pecked his wife on the cheek and then placed the bag on the counter, “I’m indebted to you Suga-san, you brought my wife back to me and my kid. If you ever need anything please come to us. My only regret is that we can give you food.”

“No, this is more than enough.” Suga wasn’t taken aback by the kindness, nor the thankfulness exhibited by the family. As he left the store, he could only feel content.

He wouldn’t classify his family as a gang, and he knew these people didn’t either. As he walked down the streets, venturing into the less tourist-heavy areas, getting pulled into more and more stores, loaded up with more and more gifts, he knew they didn’t. He knew that all these omegas, their related alphas, their families, he knew they were all grateful.

It was with these thoughts that he finally came upon his destination. It was a shady looking place, but rather large compared to the other stores he’d passed. The store front dissolved into the floors above – the living space of the owners. He stared up at the three-story building took a deep breath and entered Tiger’s Tattoos.

Three men were in the store, one manning the machines, one wincing in pain, the other watching on in abject horror. He recognised all of them, but only one saw him.

“Ah…” The large man who recognised him stopped applying the ink to the woman lying down in front of him. This man was an alpha, but he knew to be wary in front of silver-hair. Any man who could tame Ennoshita was a man not to be trifled with.

“ENNOSHITA-KUN YA BOSS IS HERE.” He yelled into the recesses of the shop.

Suga gave a small bow to the man, “Should I make my way into the back room?”

He received a nod, and quickly ducked his way across the store, bags bumping against his legs, avoiding the beds and needles. Tattoo prints covered the walls, but he had no need for them. All of his prints were in the back room, made specially and only for him.

“Boss.” Ennoshita greeted him as he got to the door of the back room.

The other omega had his black hair slick back, a cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth. He looked completely different to when he was training, his body language gone from tense and on edge to entirely relaxed, oozing confidence. He was wearing the Tiger’s Tattoos company shirt, but had ripped the sleeves off, his arms free to move. His washed-out jeans were the only light item of clothing.

“Go on in and drop your stuff. Make yourself comfortable. I need to get the ink from the storage cabinet.”

Suga entered the back room.

A singular bed lay in the centre, lights set up around it, a swivel chair set carefully by its side. One wall was covered entirely with possible prints. All of them were different frames, different perspectives of crows. Putting his bags down in the corner, he approached the wall, thinking.

It had been their largest most dangerous raid yet. No, that hadn’t been the most important part. It had been about saving Natsu. And they had been successful. Therefore, the tattoo has to be large. But it can’t dwarf the others. It has to show the fierceness of the raid but the softness of Natsu. What to choose? His eyes skimmed over the wall, taking in each print. Some were small, some were large, some in flight, some perched. Some loomed over, other had talons outstretched ready to grab. It was that last category that seemed to fit the best.

He grabbed the five prints of crows that fit his criteria and weighed them up mentally, before deciding. It was the perfect timing as well, for just as he had made a decision the door opened, Ennoshita holding a tray with needles and ink.

“Suga-san have you chosen?” He asked, placing the tray on a table beside the bed. Ennoshita busied himself, getting the final aspects ready, turning on the harsh white lights – spotlighting the bed.

“Yeah. This one will do.” He handed it to the man. Ennoshita nodded in approval, “It suits the raid, and will be the perfect size as well to fit the small of your back.”

Suga took off his coat and hung it on a hook on another wall of the room. His white collared shirt rippled. He carefully undid the buttons. One by one, the shirt fell loose until he pulled it away, revealing an un-marred midsection, lean muscle rippling. And then as he turned to hang up his shirt as well, Ennoshita caught the full view of his handiwork.

Despite painstakingly crafting all those tattoos, the young tattooist was still blown away at the scope of the art, that and the contradiction between outlook and action. The Suga he’d seen interacting with other omegas was soft and motherly, but the Suga in his studio and in the field was a beast that no-one wanted to mess with. Even Oikawa, the fiercest fighter he’d ever seen – out of alphas and omegas alike – showed an immense amount of respect for the Boss.

Suga’s back was covered in different tattoos of crows, each one a new unique crow, a different pose, a different shadow. They were a black mass of bodies, all centred around three small red crows immortalised in flight. Ennoshita didn’t know the artist that had carved those tattoos in his back, but he knew the red ink wasn’t stock standard. A shiver rocketed down his spine.

“Let’s get started.” He tried to distract himself, “Is there any where that you want it? The small of your back will look good.”

Suga laid down on the bed, and the white lights illuminating the black ink under his skin. His chest shifted he breathed, the crows growing with each intake, “I want the crow on my right shoulder blade, talons pointing towards the bottom left.”

“It’ll hurt and put your right arm out of commission for a while.” Ennoshita spoke through the needle he held in his teeth. He was trying to find the right size for the outline. He would need to make the lines as crisp as possible.

“Don’t care.” He winced in pain as the first needled impaled his skin, “It’s not like I haven’t had a tattoo done.”

This was a pain he was willing to endure, a reminder of his sins but also his scores. All of which would pale in the face of his next task – removing the East Side gangs from existence. He hissed into the leather of the bed, as the needle drove deeper into his skin. Though, that being said, this part never got any easier.

• ••

Hinata wandered through the stalls. He still stank faintly of blood, but the happy scent of his sister beside him was surely enough to cover it up. He’d been given the day off, told by Oikawa that any remote smell of blood on him would set the found omegas off. Oikawa and Tadashi would spend the day tending to them, but it meant that he and Natsu would have to take the night shift. It wasn’t that bad of a deal, and it meant that they could wander the central markets.

Natsu tugged at his arm, “Shoyou, do ya reckon Suga-san getting his tattoos done?”

“Yeah of course, he’s a stickler for his rituals. Besides there’s no way that he wouldn’t after saving a cutie like you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, smiling. There was a six-year age gap between them, but they bridged it pretty well.

“Can we get some honeyed fish? Please Sho?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m broke as hell.” He shook his head and looked up at the clouds, that were meandering by.  The breeze caused him to shiver a bit.

“I’m still in school dumbass, I don’t have any money.” She snapped back, but there was no malice in her voice.

“You don’t even go to school. Do you know why?” Hinata turned to her, eyes sparkling, he was toying with her. He leaned in close, “Because we don’t have any money! Yay, happy days, money makes the world go around ‘Tsu. Thought that big ol’ sixteen-year-old brain could have figured it out.”

She struggled to find the words to retort back, settling for a weak, “Shut up, Shoyou.”

“Harsh.” He taunted back. Natsu puffed out her cheeks in annoyance and Hinata conceded, knowing that to push it any further would be too far – he’d get in trouble later from Oikawa and co, “I’ll tell you what, why don’t we go find some alphas to scam the fuck out of. We’ll target some undesirables.”

Hinata waggled his eyebrows suggestively, giving her a playful punch. Natsu’s face lifted and she let out a delighted laugh, “Ok then. Deal.”

Her brother smiled back, mischief perched on the upturned corners of his lips, “Let’s get some chocolate while we’re at  it.”

• ••

Kageyama had been following the two for a while now, and he had no idea where they were going. He didn’t even know why he was following them, but he knew something was very familiar about the scent. Every now and then he would pick up a faint smell of fresh ginger and oh, it was addictive. He knew he was, well, sort of , stalking them – but he was police officer, and it was fine. Everything was fine. As he tailed them carefully, he tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with last night, the blood he’d seen on the walls, the overpowering scent of ginger that, despite being bitter and distressed as hell, left him wanting more.  He had never felt his instinct go so wild just by scent before, in fact, he’d never been able to smell that strong a smell before. Oh! How enticing it was.

Ducking in and out of shops, he watched the two redheads scurry off with their arms full of sweets, alphan shopkeepers yelling after them. He leant against a wall, phone up, but eyes focused on the pair. The smell wafted over to him as they stopped a few metres away. The shopkeeper was shaking his fist at them, but didn’t seem to be moving much, lips pursed. Odd, Kageyama thought, why doesn’t he call the normal police units?

“Should’ve known better to run a shop marked as a Lost!” The male redhead yelled back to the confectioner.

Kageyama froze. His thumb stopped absentmindedly scrolling and all the thoughts he’d been attempting to squash bubbled to the forefront of his mind. Nothing to do with last night his arse, he should have known the scent was too familiar. His hand went to his belt, but then with a horrible start he released – he was in his civvies.  Fuck. His handcuffs were still there though, hidden behind his overcoat. He could still catch them. He could still find the source – Now’s not the time fucking instincts – He could still help put another clue on the wall of the case of eight long years.

The redheads were now entering the next shop across, not a care in the world. It was in this shop however that they stopped, talking amicably to the couple at the counter, wide smiles and bright eyes. They wouldn’t remain that way for long.

Kageyama took the opportunity to thumb a message to the group chat the officer had set up. He had time, if they had time to talk, so did he.

11:41am

Kageyama: Central Markets, green grocers, I’ve got eyes on two possible suspects for last night’s raids. Requesting backup. Will try and herd them towards the backstreets.  

Almost immediately he saw three people come online, Daichi, Iwaizumi and Terushima. The first two started to type.

Iwaizumi: Daichi don’t you fucking dare. You’re supposed to be resting. (Do you think the readers will appreciate you out of bed, you moron?)

Daichi: I’m on my way.

Terushima: I’m 10 minutes off.

Iwaizumi: oml. Why do I even try?

Terushima: Rip Iwa-chan.

Iwaizumi: Shut up. I’m 15 minutes away.

Kageyama: K.

He turned his phone off and slipped it inside his pocket, feeling it buzz as new messages rolled in. The two redheads were still in the green grocers making their way down the aisles. Kageyama crossed the road and entered the store.

“Hello, how may I help you?” A motherly looking omega practically shone from her place behind the counter. Kageyama grunted in response sending a short, “Browsing.”, her way. She rolled her eyes and turned to tend to her little child. He turned towards the aisle where the two were also browsing – now bickering.

“Sho, I told you! They said take anything, not EVERYTHING!” The girl laughed in his direction.

The older redhead, who now up close looked more like a young man than a boy, glared in her direction, poking his tongue out playfully, “I said we were going to get chocolate ‘Tsu. And besides they’re both founds. We saved their lives, the least I can do is accept their gifts.”

Founds. Kageyama didn’t know what to make of the term. He turned to look at some packets of gum on the racks so as to not look suspicious. The term sent his mind spiralling, again. Why not just use a longer phrase that was proper and grammatically correct like – they’ve both been rescued by us? – were they idiots?

“At least be considerate, fucking hell man. Mary being so nice, don’t ruin our image.” The girl finally noticed the alpha as she looked up to glance in the counter’s direction. Her scent immediately turned sour.

The man’s head shot up, and he sniffed the air. Kageyama couldn’t help but release some of his scent – wait, no, what the fuck am I doing? I want him to smell me? No, I don’t want to be recognised by scent. Frantically, he fought against his instincts to reel it in, ears going red. Still trying to keep up the act, he leant down to look at the rows of sweet mints.

Now what?

• ••

Hinata sniffed the air unceremoniously. Natsu was scared, he felt that more through their bonds as omegas and siblings then her scent. What was she afraid of? Was it this alpha? Damnit. His sense of smell had deteriorated more than he thought.

“’Tsu” He murmured to her, restraining from addressing her fully. Even if he had given away a part of her name, he knew giving away her full name would be even more dangerous for the both of them. It wasn’t as if there were a lot of redheads around the place in general, “Tsu, I can’t smell anything.”

Natsu, realisation dawning on her, tugged at his hand and pulled him down the aisle, trying so hard to make it look like as if she wanted some different types of sweets. But she didn’t trust her voice enough to consolidate the act.

“Bro,” She reverted to a generic nickname and Hinata knew that whatever – no, whoever – had scared her must be in earshot, “Cops. 9’o’clock.”

The man, was approaching and seeing his face on the full for the first time, Hinata felt his heart stop. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he fought to control his scent, though he wasn’t worked up enough to even generate it yet. Every single cell in his body simple yelled, POLICE, DANGER.

“Split!” He yelled.

And they were off. Natsu down one aisle, Hinata down another, they burst back onto the streets with the alpha hot on their heels. The two omegas had faith in their speed, but Natsu, having only started her training to become a member, was already flagging by the time they got to the end of the street. Hinata saw this, and blanched. He refused to let his sister go again.

He slowed his pace ever so slightly to match hers. The alpha was still behind them, but with his larger form, was having trouble pushing through the crowds. The alpha was, in fact, struggling to keep up with the bobbing, weaving heads. For once Hinata was thankful for his small stature, and his sister’s even smaller stature.

“Tsu,” He gasped between breaths, “Lose yourself. I’ll take him away.”

“Fuck off, no.” She shot back.

“DO IT.”

She whimpered and for a second Hinata felt guilty for treating his sister that way, but he had no time to think. The alpha had closed in again. As Natsu slowed down more and attempted to lose herself in the crowds, the policeman began to follow him.

NO. 

 Hinata thought about someone touching his sister and finally he was able to enter a state of focus, the immense determination conquering every other emotion. He let his scent run wild.

Immediately the singeing scent of ginger permeated the air. It wasn’t distressed, it wasn’t acrid, it wasn’t angry, it was just pure adrenaline, pure energy. The alpha immediately zeroed in on him, forgetting any notion of Natsu even existing.

The next thought on his mind was escaping. While there was an advantage of crowds here, he couldn’t draw his dagger from his left boot, or his wire gun from beneath the pockets of his winter coat. He needed to go somewhere quieter. The back roads, the back streets, he could… Suga. His old friend would help him. His old friend would kill for him. Hinata knew exactly where he could find the older omega.

Dodging, weaving, panting, heaving, Hinata remained a few steps away from the alpha at all times, though he struggled to get anywhere other than where the alpha wanted him to go. Anytime he would try and find a shortcut through an alley, the alpha would shift to the side, ready to cut the corner and cut him off. But, despite the constant feeling of being herded (Like fucking cattle – was that all alphas viewed them as?), he had manage to make his way to the street that housed Tiger’s Tattoos.

And, what’s more, Suga had just left.

“CROW-SAN!” Hinata yelled as loud as his tired lungs allowed him. The alpha faltered behind him, and he took the initiative to get his wire gun. Suga whirled as he heard his alias, dropping his bags and immediately lifting a gun. Hinata didn’t know where he got that from.

“Stop right there.” He said, voice harsh, “And put your hands above your fucking head, alpha.”

Hinata walked towards his boss, wire gun at the ready. From the shadows he saw a small figure shifting, whom he recognised to be Natsu fumbling with her new ear piece. She was waiting. Good girl.

“No. You stop.” Three figures exited other shops along the streets, all with guns raised. Their police badges glinted in the sun. The shortest one, who still towered over Hinata, approached Suga, “Put the gun down and put your hands on your head.”

Suga hesitated. His mind whirred frantically. He wasn’t in top condition. His shooting arm was out of commission and Hinata was there as well. They didn’t have any of their gear. He glanced in his friend’s direction. His chest was heaving, and surrounded by police, there was no way of verbal communication. But there was a way. Hinata’s eyes flicked over to a side alley. In the shadows – harsh in the midday sun – he could just make out a shock of red hair.

Okay. A plan locked in his head. Slowly he placed the gun on the ground, then rested his hands so causally on his head, it looked as if he had done this too many times before. The officer watch him with increasing intensity.

“You too Shorty,” A tall alpha with bleached blond hair and an undercut waved his gun in Hinata’s direction. Hinata copied Suga’s exact actions, never once breaking eye contact with the alpha. Lower your guard, lower your guard. I want to fight, I want to fight. He fought to control himself in his agitated state.

“Kageyama, get the girl.”

What? Hinata spun around to stop the alpha from even fucking touching his sister, but before he could cuffs slammed down on his wrists and he was pushed into the ground. Mr. Bleached Blond snarled down at him releasing an oppressive scent, “Stay down omega, you don’t want to get hurt.”

Hinata snarled up at the older man, “Fight me you bastard. I’ll stick the silver spoon your sucking on up your fucking arse.”

Cuffs slammed down on Suga’s wrists, but he didn’t notice, straining against his captor to see Natsu. It took every single ounce of his undying will not to bash his head against the head of the officer. There was still a gun trained on him, and he still had plans. Though, as Natsu was brought out, kicking and screaming, he guessed he’d have to add this police unit too. He should’ve known that Mr High-ranking Officer would’ve seen something.

“Come on you coward!” Hinata hissed at his captor, the officer now looking very intrigued by the smack talking of the omega as he pushed him along the road towards an unmarked black van, “One punch. Just hit me. I’ll fuck you up so bad, not even an omega will be afraid of you.”

Suga groaned internally. Hinata was getting too worked up. Soon his threats would stop being empty. He stumbled forward and the officers hand reached out to steady him. Suga brushed it off immediately, not worried for his own sore hands rubbing against the cuffs, nor his aching toes. Instead he wriggled in his captors grasp and turned fully towards Hinata. His body ached so badly to comfort the young man, his omegan instincts pushing his limits.

He just hoped they’d be detained together. He didn’t want an angry Shoyou.

As the officers loaded them into the back of the van, they didn’t notice the way three bodies stood still in the light of the Tiger’s Tattoo parlour, nor the way the smallest put his hand to his ear and began to speak. Ennoshita had witnessed everything, and by god, was he getting his second family back.

• •• 

Kageyama had drawn the short straw. So therefore, he’d been the one chosen to sit in the back of the van with the omegas, to make sure they didn’t do anything sketchy. But, whatever he’d been expecting it hadn’t been this.

The silver-haired man, who had taken down practically their entire unit, who had looked so goddamn threatening with his gun pointed at Kageyama’s head a few minutes ago, was now comforting both omegas. What was this sudden change in attitude?

“Shhh,” The silver-haired man, whom he think Mr Redhead called Crow, hugged the young female – Tsu? – to his chest. Kageyama felt as if he should drop his eyes, as if he was invading into some sort of omega ritual. But he didn’t, his job and accompanying pay check outweighing his instincts.

The male redhead – Sho? – was the only one who acknowledged Kageyama’s presence, but unlike his rather mouthy attitude before he simply glared. His eyes were full of grim determination and hatred, nearly devoid of any shine he’d seen back in the Central Markets. Kageyama guessed it came with the change of scenery, and the fact that the criminal had been caught. Yet, was the glaring all that necessary? He was on the wrong side of the law, the omega should’ve known he was going to get caught one day. Kageyama opened his mouth to say something but the silver-haired man lifted his gaze and shook his head.

“Don’t.” He breathed softly, rubbing his neck against the small girls head. Kageyama recognised it as scenting, “He’s trying to restrain himself from killing you.”

A shiver shot down his spine, both at the realisation of what those eyes meant, but also the casual tone of the statement. It was almost as if killing someone was normal for these people. Of course with a job like his, he was exposed to a lot of gruesome things, but still the officers tried to show respect for the dead. Besides, every singly body he had ever investigated in this case was at least a few days old, and he had never been the subject for such overpowering bloodlust.

For some reason, though scaring him slightly, he felt slightly more alive, and couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The van bumped its way to a stop. The female squeaked in fear as the van jerked. The male redhead growled a low growl in response. He sounded practically primal. Kageyama’s instincts flared at the sound and he felt himself flush hot – then wrestled to gain control again. Doors opened and shut and then the back of the van came away to reveal the three alphas again, guns in hand.

Kageyama couldn’t help but notice as Daichi let them down, how much he softened reaching for the siler-haired omega. He’d have to ask him later. Though, when Daichi had gone to reach for the male redhead, a low growl had bubbled in his throat – so he was sure his friends would have some questions for him too.

Civilians stopped and stared as the three were roughly taken into the police station. The ever so quick eyes of Kageyama noticed the way one omega broke down crying, the way a small black mark on her neck shimmered in the sun. Why would someone branded as a lost cry over their enemies going to jail?

He was brought back the present as shivers racked the body of the female omega he was escorting. It seemed to him as if she had experienced some recent trauma. He tried to reel in his naturally potent scent, instead releasing a light calming aroma. It didn’t help at all, and the girl whimpered as they crossed the threshold of the police station.

The other redhead was struggling against Terushima’s grip, eyes wide and animalistic as he tried to twist his head to see his sister. Terushima settled a heavy hand on his head and directed it towards the front. A low growl vibrated through the omega’s chest and Kageyama was amazed to see the energy he still had left. How much energy did it take to engage with his instincts that much? There was a long moment of compliance as they walked forwards before the omega arched his back, stomped on the foot and was about to twist out of Terushima’s grip when –

“RAVEN YOU WILL STOP THIS INSTANT.” Barked the silver-haired man, his voice jumping at least fifty decibels higher than it had been in the car. Malice coated every word, and it dripped in cold anger. Suddenly Kageyama knew why it had been this man that had taken down nearly their entire unit. He was not to be trifled with.

But what was more horrifying was the other omegas’ reactions. Almost immediately the male redhead whimpered and lowered his head, and the female omega – whom the outburst hadn’t been directed at, exposed her neck, the utmost form of submission. It was clear to the officers who the leader of the pack was.

The hurried them off to separate interrogation rooms, heads buzzing with things to discuss.

• ••

Daichi’s head throbbed. It was as if his worst hangover had come back to haunt him. But how could he have said no when Kageyama asked for his help? Especially because it was related to the case. Driving the car over he may have had some regrets, but now, staring at the silver-haired man through one-way glass, his fatigue headache was partially forgotten. Partially, because fuck, it was a late, late night.

For some reason, he didn’t want to go in there. He felt inadequate. He felt as if he could never measure up to the omega – especially after the incident in the lobby. He’d been abandoned by the rest of the crew to deal with this Boss-Crow, because as Terushima had stated, ‘You would never be able to tell if he just killed someone, or made love to his alpha. Volatile little shit.”. Just the thought of silver-hair making love was enough to have Daichi blushing.

Get it together Sawamura. You’re a Captain, you interrogate their Captain, that’s how it works. Nothing more, nothing less.

He ran his fingers lightly through his hair before entering.

The silver haired man smiled warmly at him and clasped his hands together, cuffs rattling, “What do you have for me today Officer?”

The sudden chit-chattiness of the omega caught him off guard, as did the warmth he had seemed to have lacked out in the lobby.

“First of all,” Daichi sat down in the chair opposite him, “It’s Captain to you. Second, we believe you and your comrades are connected to an underground Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate that we’ve been tracking for the past eight years. You wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?”

Sua’s warm smile dropped immediately. It wasn’t the quiet warning that caused it, nor the heavy scent of horse hair and leather that drifted from the alpha, it was four words that cause bile to rise in his stomach. He shook his head in disbelief. How ill-informed were these police members, they weren’t connected – they were their worst –

“Would you be some sort of rival gang?”

Fuck. They are informed. Suga sat there passively, taking in every word Mr Captain man said, but answering nothing.

“Okay.” Daichi leaned in, “Since you don’t want to offer. Are you or are you not the Leader of the Corvid gang?”

Suga’s eye twitched. Daichi nearly sighed in relief, this was getting somewhere.

“I’ll say that again. ARE you the LEADER of the Corvid gang?” He emphasised each word, eyes search the beautiful face for some sort of tell.

“No, I am not.” Suga retorted for the first time. His eye twitched again.

“I’ll take that as a yes then. Now, what connection do you have with the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate? What do your friends like doing?”

Suga snapped, “They’re not our fucking friends. We don’t work for them, we don’t like them, we have zero connection with them.”

Despite the fact that we’re going to absolutely destroy them for touching Natsu and threatening our territories. He didn’t say that.

“In fact, we’re not even criminals – so if you can let us go please that would be dandy.” Suga spat oh-so-sweetly towards the alpha.

Daichi opened the file that was in his hands, thanking the gods that the photos had developed in time. Slowly he pulled them out and placed them face-up on the table. One of the rooftop stains of blood where Tsukishima had nearly died; one of the garage area, blood creating forbidden patterns on the floor; one of the stairs, the victims heads lolling at awkward angles; and the final one of the –

“Oh Raven-kun.” Suga breathed, more to himself than anyone else as he stared down at the final photo. They weren’t getting out of this one easily, but even so, his heart swelled with pride at Hinata and the destruction he’d wreaked on the alpha that had dared lay hands on his family. He looked up at the officer, “And?”

Daichi quirked an eyebrow, “And, we have eyewitness accounts of you being there, and your red-headed subordinates begin there, so we have every right to put you away for life.”

Suga quirked an eyebrow right back, and growled softly, “What if I say no?”

Daichi felt something shift in his pants underneath the table just from the rumbling of the omega’s voice. He swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling slightly hot. No, now was not the time to be thinking those sorts of thoughts. Thoughts as in how good the omega would sound in bed, and how nice it would be to wake up to those soft growls beside him. He squashed the thoughts and swallowed again.

If they weren’t friends with the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate (OTCS), then maybe they were rivals. And if they were rivals, then maybe the police and them would have a common enemy. After all wasn’t the saying, the enemy of your enemy is your friend?

“Then maybe we can come to an agreement.”

Chapter Text

Ennoshita arrived at the Corvid’s gym, pale, sweaty and ready to fight. He was still in his work clothes, his hair still slicked back, but his cigarette was missing, and the confident self he’d been in his studio was gone. Long gone. He was so close to panicking. He burst into the gym – found it empty. Burst into the back room, with the training ring and practice targets only to find it empty as well.

There were about three more warehouses that he knew Suga owned, but he didn’t have time to search through them all. Fuck. Where were the others? He was the lowest ranking member so he didn’t have access to all the spaces that the top three, Oikawa, Suga and Hinata had. Those three were the closest of friends, despite not showing it. How would Oikawa react? Damnit, why couldn’t he find them?

He anxiously tapped on his ear-piece, “Rook-san?Hello?”

Unlike the previous night, there was no quick reply. He tapped it again, turning it on and off. Maybe there was a problem with the reception.

“Hello? Rook-san?”

Still no reply. Anxiously he ran out onto the road, repeated the same two words over and over. Still, no answer. No reply. Not even static crackled. Then he remembered, Rook-san was only free at night. Of course, dumbass, he has a life to live. Unlike you. His thoughts began to spiral.

Okay. It’s okay.

“Um…” He hummed with anxiety.

Then he remembered. Hospital. Their hospital. The raid, of course! The other two members would be tending to the omega right now, probably asking them details about their families and home lives. Of course. Ennoshita took off sprinting down the road, needing to tell them as fast as possible.

When he arrived at the other warehouse that they had rightfully dubbed ‘The Hospital’ he was nearly panicking. Nearly, because he knew that if any of the scared omega’s they had rescued from the traffickers caught even so much of a whiff of his anxious scent, there would be mayhem. And there would be no more Mr Nice Guys. And Suga would get pissed.

He reached for the doors, bit his tongue, took three deep calming breaths, and then pulled them open. Two white vans and a singular black car sat unassuming in the large space – the only tell of their participation in semi-legal activities the murky water trickling from them to the large drain. The hose was still running.

“Magpie-san?”

A mop of green tinted black hair popped out from around the bumper of the black car. Tadashi was wearing a plain white singlet and black jeans, ripped at the knees. Despite being younger than him, Ennoshita still paid his respects to the higher ranked, and to be frank, even with his shy and anxious nature, would always be in awe of his sniping skills.

“Mm? D...Do you need anything Jay-kun?” The man tripped over his soft words the way one would an electrical cord, but he still managed to look slightly cool as his eyebrows furrowed and he moved fully into sight. Stopping the running hose, Tadashi turned to give Ennoshita a look-over. He was a mess, the omega could feel the distress leaking from him slowly, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. And Tadashi knew. Something was very, very wrong.

His voice hardened, but still twanged slightly with nerves, “What happened?”

“We need Raven-san.” Ennoshita gasped, “It’s urgent… the police…”

At the word police Tadashi froze up. His hands twitched and the hose dropped, with a bang that echoed in the large space. A red flush creeped up to ensnare his face, and Ennoshita could see the hitches in his breathing as it fastened. His shoulders began to cave, and the – at least comfortable – pose he was holding before began to shatter – pheromones leaking.

But Ennoshita had neither the skills, context nor time to deal with the panicking omega. All he could do was close the space between them as quickly as possible, wrap his arms around the man, try to release a calming scent and mutter the words, “I’m going to get Oikawa.”

He released him, and turned, spun on his heel and stormed off, leaving Tadashi struggling to get a grip. They needed all hands-on deck for this catastrophe.

• ••

Oikawa was tending to a small omega, the same one that Suga had rescued first. His wrists were thin and his body shook with each intake of breath, but his stomach was full and his heart rate even. The worst thing was, out of the thirty pups to take care of, this omega was the healthiest among them.

“Can you tell me your name dearie?” His fingers traced calming circles on the scent gland on the omega’s thin wrist, and he tried to release his own calming scent. Oikawa always had trouble at this part, his voice neither soothed like Suga’s nor softened like Tadashi’s – there was always a hidden authority that he couldn’t rid himself of.

“Yu.” The small boy stuttered out, “Yu Nishinoya.”

“Can I call you Noya?”

The boy nodded, scent increasing in strength at a spike of happiness. Oikawa smiled but then pressed his lips into a thin line, in anticipation of what was to come, “Can you tell me what happened to you? Any names you picked up?”

Nishinoya shook his head, but Oikawa nodded knowingly, “Take your time. I don’t expect anyone to be able to answer this question straight off the bat.”

He looked grateful for a lack of pressure, and began to look around anxiously. The beds, were filled with little sleeping bodies, and he opened his mouth to start to say something than stopped. Oikawa leaned in closer, “It’s alright, if you have any questions you can ask them. No one will hurt you. You’re safe here.”

His eyes darted around the space, not trusting Oikawa, as if expecting someone to be lurking in the shadows waiting for him to mess up. But then, he calmed slightly, and opened his mouth again to speak, “Are you going to send me back?”

“Back where dearie?” He tried to calm his voice, tried to inject even the slightest hint of the kindness that Suga possessed in his.

“Back home. I don’t want to go back home.”

Something must have happened. Something always happened to the omegas. There was hardly ever a case of an omega that had run away because of happiness.

“Can you tell me why you don’t want to go back home?”

That was the wrong thing to ask, and Oikawa regretted it immediately, as he watched the omega shrink in upon himself and shake his head again, fervently, lips pressed thin. His dirty blond bangs flicked side to side and the other man had to supress a sigh, it was always like this. There was never a fucking good alpha out there. Familial violence was one of the largest reasons why omegas ended up on the streets, and familial discontent was one of the largest reasons why omegas ended up being sold, being caged and trafficked.

“It’s okay Noya. Your past can’t get you here, you’ve been found. All you have to worry about is your future. For that I need to know just a tiny bit of information about you and how you came to be in the position you’re in. Okay?” He reached out and stroked the boy’s forehead, running his fingers back into his hair and further releasing a calming scent, “It’s so we can do what’s right by you. Does that make sense?”

Nishinoya nodded, but still didn’t bring himself to speak. Understandable, thought Oikawa to no one in particular. So, the elder brought it upon himself, as his responsibility to initiate. Though, as his mouth opened, before he could even utter a sound the door at the end of the room opened and a dishevelled Ennoshita burst into the room.

Even if he had a handle on his scent, even if he had regained some colour in his cheeks and rhythm in his breathing, Oikawa could immediately tell that Ennoshita had some important news. That something had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

“Stay here Noya-kun.” Oikawa commanded the injured omega, who was now bolt upright and alert in bed – eyes focused on the new person. It wasn’t a command as an alpha would’ve enforced, but in his voice, Oikawa held enough authority to tell the other that disobeying would lead to dire consequences.

He lifted himself from the bed and restrained the urge to run over, but his pace remained absurdly fast. Ennoshita continued his approach as well, and they met in the middle, tangle of limbs as his junior struggled to tell him the news in a voice low enough as to not be heard by any prying ears.

“Crow-san, Raven-san…taken… police…Natsu too.”

Those were the only words that made it to Oikawa’s ears through the rushing roaring sound of blood in his ears. He felt as if his heart was about to burst from his head in glorious agony and rage and it took every cell in his body not to pour forth his scent and fill every crevice in the room with his anger. He couldn’t get caught up in instinctual trivialities as such. They had to move.

They had to get their family back. He had to get his brothers back. And if an officer even dared to lay a fucking finger on Natsu…

“Jay. Get your gear.” Oikawa began to walk towards the exit, “We’ll need the briefcases for this mission.”

Ennoshita visibly gulped. The briefcases were only for dire emergencies, the leather cases packed by Suga himself for raids that were extremely deadly and dangerous – ones that may beg for a life instead of a limb, for a corpse instead of a pint of blood.

“WAIT!” Someone rasped behind them, “Please, Raven, I want to help.”

Noya had not stepped off his bed, but his voice carried. Oikawa spun on his heel – they didn’t have time for this. Time was short, variables had to be taken care of – quickly, “Are you sure? Once you step into our world, there’s no going back.”

That being said, they were desperately short of members. Barely clinging on – walking fine, fine wires over a bottomless void.

The boy on the bed nodded, his arms trembled from propping himself up but his gaze remained steady, and his eyes remained clear. Oikawa could see the determination, and he had to hand it to him – generally, when their patients woke up they were in a state of delirium and panic, he hadn’t seen one adapt this fast since, well… since he met Hinata. But that was a long, long time ago – and though his heart swelled at the memories, he pushed them down and tried to focus pack in on the present.

“I was born in this world Raven-san.” Nishinoya affirmed, “I want to repay my debts, pay my dues.”

Oikawa let out a small chuckle, “Well, we need eyes here, I’ll entrust you to watch after these omegas. We can test your determination to join later on. Are you up to it Noya-kun?”

“Yes sir!”

With a nod at his now junior, Oikawa turned back to face Ennoshita and promptly left the room. At least they didn’t have to worry about the Found’s now – only the management. Instead, he wondered how his counterpart was doing – if they dared separate Natsu and Hinata, he was worried about the damage that would follow. Hinata would easily give his life to save his sister, fight tooth and nail to protect her. It was a relationship that all the Corvids held with the young girl, but the siblings were inseparable.

Don’t be rash Hinata. I want to exact revenge as well. Leave some bodies for me to play with.

He licked his lips, feeling the tremors run up and down his body. Oikawa would beat the living shit out anyone who begged it. What dumbasses would only take care of half a syndicate? As if the others would just let them take their family. Bastards.

“Magpie.”

They were out in the main area now, where the cars were. Tadashi, had changed out of what he was wearing earlier, now in black slacks and a black long sleeve shirt, buttoned up to the top button. He looked as if he were about to go to a work interview, but the hooded look in his eyes spoke of something else. The long black briefcase by his side in particular looked menacing. Oikawa grinned, “Have you loaded the other cases into the car Magpie-kun?”

Tadashi nodded, his voice soft, soothing even if the subject matter wasn’t as such, “I have all of Ennoshita tools and your knives are in there too, along with your brass knuckles. There’s a separate case for your guns. I’ve also packed some supplies for Crow-san and other the other Raven-san, and I packed Natsu’s taser.”

The car door slammed, as Ennoshita entered the front passenger seat, changing from his work clothes to his work clothes.

“Very nice, thank you. Also, tell me, did you get briefed by Jay-kun? You do know what we’re getting into, right? Can you handle the police right now?” Oikawa approached the other omega slowly, as they made their way to their respective doors of the car. He was worried for him, the police hadn’t handled him the best in the past – and Yamaguchi held unwavering grudges.

“I’m going to be sniping Oikawa.” Yamaguchi sighed, his scent was leaking slightly and it didn’t smell too promising about his mental state, “I’m not the linchpin of this operation.”

“You can’t go under.”

They both knew what Oikawa was talking about. Tadashi would ‘go under’, he’d retreat into himself and disappear, mentally and often physically, an extreme self-preservation method he’d formed over his youth. The three higher-ups all knew about this, and tried to prevent it with the all the gusto they had, but once Tadashi retreated no one could get him to open up, not unless he wanted it.

“You’re a valuable member of the team Yamaguchi. Own your past.”

“Own your past.” The man repeated, a mantra they shared, a common thread in their lives. Shitty pasts, ones that continued to haunt them.  

They nodded once firmly then opened their doors and slid into the car. As the car rumbled into life, and slid jerkily onto the road, Oikawa couldn’t help but worry and fume. Fucking hell, this trip was long overdue. Time to beat some uniform clad ass.  

• ••

Hinata strained against the handcuffs on the table. He didn’t care about the police officer in front of him, all he cared about was the cold reassurance of his knife against his ankle and the fact that he had no idea where Natsu was. His head throbbed painfully as the lights shone too brightly and his scent leaked. Though he tried to rein it in. After all, scent was an identifier, and he did not want to give the police anything more to identify him with.

“So tell me Sir –” The police officer started.

Hinata turned to take him in fully, the first time acknowledging him since being forced into the seat. The police officer had black straight hair and a dark cold look in deep ocean blue eyes. What an unsightly look for an officer, thought Hinata. He growled, “Where is she.”

“If the she you’re referring to is the girl we’ve apprehended then that information is classified. And you, a criminal, has no right to –“

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SISTER!” Spit flew from his mouth as he yelled, but Hinata didn’t care. He didn’t even care that he’d confirmed the rumour of their relationship. He just felt the anger and the rage and the potent fury that coursed through his blood and shit, was she okay? Her training had barely started, would she know how to act in an interrogation? The police were rather tame, but still, how was he to know what they were capable of?

“That information is classified. We may be able to tell you that if you cooperate and answer a few questions.” The officer didn’t even blink, but Hinata could see the vein popping on his forehead.

“I will cooperate if you tell me, bastard.” He spat back immediately, glaring daggers into the deep ocean eyes that seemed to look down at him. Fucking alphan officers thinking so little of omegas.

The officer’s eyebrow twitched with barely concealed rage, and he felt himself grow more and more infuriated by the omega sitting in front of him. Was he feral? How was his scent so potent but at the same time equalling to nothing? Questions bubbled to the surface of Kageyama’s brain, but none appropriate for the interrogation. The best he could do is put the omega in his place, remind him why they were there and try, just try to do his goddamn job.

“You’re in no positioning to be bargaining.” Kageyama snapped.  

Hinata laughed, low and dark and deadly, “I have information you want, dumbass. I’m in every position to be bargaining. It’s not like you can fucking force the information out of me.”

“We have your sister.”

“Oh, and so the gangsters youse are, are going to threaten me with her?”

“You bet your criminal ass we will.” Immediate reply.

 It was an empty threat, right? No, he couldn’t take risks like that. Not again.
Hinata raised his eyebrows, feeling the coiling mass of anger shift in his stomach. He stared into the cold eyes of the officer and knew it was too much of a risk to try and call his bluff. He leaned in across the cold metal table, handcuffs clinking ominously as he gripped the place they were fastened, “I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

The officer sighed, looking rather resigned instead of scared as Hinata would’ve liked to see him, “Look, your sister is safe. We’re on the side of the law, as police officers we’re legally not allowed to do anything to her. She’s been taken to the next room over. Now will you cooperate?”

Hinata pursed his lips. The officer had complied to the terms he’d suggested, but it was no fun when the alpha listlessly complied. He liked it when they were both getting riled up – though, he wasn’t in any state to get ‘happy’. If he didn’t tread carefully, his family could get ripped apart. And if he was the cause of the Corvids demise, then Suga would absolutely dismember him. And he was more scared of Suga than any alpha officer.

“Sure.” He leaned back in his seat, pulling his hands as far back as they would go. At any length, maybe the other Corvids would come to bail them out. Whatever happened he had to be ready. Though he wouldn’t dare show his weakness in the form of apprehension. As Suga had beat into them, Show them a weakness and the vultures they are will tear you apart. Unbreakable façade. Show them an omega they cannot conquer, cannot understand.

“We’ll start with your name. I believe the silver-haired man called you Raven? Is that your name?”

“Yes.” Nothing more, nothing less. He pressed his lips together and tilted his head, waiting for the next question.

“What is the name you were given at birth?”

“I’m afraid that information is classified.”  

Maybe Hinata had been spending too much time with Oikawa, though the omega knew his counterpart would be insanely proud at the amount of sass he was showing in such a dire situation.

Kageyama disregarded the answer. The name wasn’t as important as the information he needed to extract about the raid. Besides, they now had photo profiles of the omegas – they would be easy to track. Next question.

“Is that silver haired man your boss?”  

“Yes.”

“Are you part of the Corvid gang?”

Silence.

“Let me repeat, are you part of the Corvid gang?”

“Fuck… yes.” Hinata swore, answered then met the officer’s gaze. He had a smug look on his face that the omega just wanted to wipe the fuck off. It was irritating Hinata like nothing had before. Even Oikawa’s smirks and smug looks were better than this, endearing rather than skin crawlingly annoying. The officer was relentless as well, questions quickly following his answers, no holes left for Hinata to lie.

“Do you have connection to these people?” From a folder that Kageyama pulled from god knows where, he laid the photos carefully down on the table. They were the unconscious alphas that he and Oikawa had taken care of.

“No.” He lied through his teeth, trying not to look at the photo of the alpha he’d ripped the tongue from. Hinata was already struggling enough to keep his scent under control, to be reminded of his sister’s compromising position and the alpha imposing arrogance and lewd wishes, he wanted to rip his head off. Not any ‘his’ in particular, just someone who got close enough to him.

It was hard to control himself like this, the epitome of the ‘fight’ response – his unstable instincts last ditch attempt at self-preservation.

“What about this person?” A long slender finger tapped on the very photo he was trying to avoid looking at. Hinata shook his head, and his voice trembled with uncontrollable wrath, “No.”

From Kageyama’s position, it was clear to see that the omega, Raven, had a very close and personal connection to the alpha he was pointing at. At least, close and personal in a way that suggested causing the insane amount of blood loss that occurred.

“I think you’re lying to me.”

“I think that I don’t give a fuck.” Hinata decided to continue to bluff, continue to lie. But his legs were shaking under the table, and he felt slightly scared at the pure alphan authority in the statement. That and the fact that he knew he was shit at lying.

Kageyama was at a loss for words. Whatever he said the omega rebutted immediately, and yet he had to hold his normally quick tongue. The one that he was so openly used with his colleagues, yet because of his work restrictions he couldn’t respond with the same level of vehemence. It was killing him inside.

So he took a deep breath and observed the omega calmly. This part he liked about his job – breaking down his opponents into their component parts, analysing every action, seeing if it matched up with their words. And these words did not match up. Bluff. Bluff. Lies.

“I think you’re lying. You harmed that man didn’t you?”

Hinata opened his mouth to answer but then closed it. He hesitated, and in hindsight he was glad he did, because just as he opened his mouth about to admit the lights began to flash.

One. Two. Pause. One. Two. Three. Pause. One. Two.

 And then all hell broke loose.

• •• 

Tadashi was grateful to the husband of a Found that recognised his wear, and had allowed him to set up in their upstairs room. He was a bit disconcerted, lying down across their bed, fully dressed, shoes smearing dirt across the covers, but the alpha man that had let him in told him not to worry. In fact, the alpha even brought him some sliced fruit and crackers – he was getting pampered by someone he didn’t know, because his senpais had saved a life. He was eternally grateful.

It was an easy setup as well.

He could see the front steps of the police station, the first few rooms of the first floor and some of the rooms on the second floor. It was as Oikawa had said it, second floor was the interrogation rooms, and even if they were blocked off, he could see the people in the corridor, and he could see two of the side rooms. The side rooms that people used to listen into and watch the interrogation.

Tadashi put his eyes to the telescopic scope, and adjusted his hold to where his first target would be. He remembered the plan.

 Putting his hand to his ear, he opened the line.

“Raven, I’ve got eyes on the target. Ready to engage.”

The line crackled with some static, as someone else listened, “Thank you Magpie, standby. Jay-kun is leaving our calling card a few doors down. We’ll wait for him.”

There was some more static as Oikawa fell silent and then as someelse opened the line, “Hello? Why is this active in the day time?”

“Rook!” Tadashi and Oikawa said in unison.

“Sup. Can someone fill me in? Why aren’t you in the warehouses? What’s happened?”

Tadashi opened his mouth to start talking but Oikawa, ever chatty, beat him to it, “Crow-san, chibi-chan and ‘Tsu were taken by the police – but Ennoshita saw and came and told us. We’ve taken the briefcases, and are now at the police station. We don’t know the state of anyone inside. We’re walking in the dark here.”

Kenma took the last statement as a call to action and for the next thirty seconds all anyone could hear was the loud clacking of keyboards and the rolling wheels of chair. Than came a “Got it!” and Kenma launched to explain.

“They’re all in separate interrogation rooms, with another officer. The other officers are in their respective offices, or not present. All in all, there’s about fifteen people in the building, though some of them staff. Their cameras are shit quality, so I can’t make out any faces or run checks on any of them. Do you want me to raise the signal for the three Raven?”

“Yes. Effective immediately. Magpie-kun, engage in exactly a minute.”

“Got it.”

Tadashi flicked off his ear piece, and a comfortable silence settled over the bedroom. He put his eye to the telescopic scope and looked at the large glass windows of the reception. His first task, shoot to distract – get the officers running to the ground floor. One minute. T-minus twenty seconds.

Ready. Deep breath.

Like a magpie for which you’re named, he reminded himself. High in the sky, defend your territory and when the time is right – shoot.

The glass shattered and people began to scream. And he watched the receptionist duck below the desk sobbing, and he felt his heart tug and pull but it hardened as he remembered, police. This was for the fuckers that abandoned him, left him to die.

Tadashi’s next shot bit into the foot of another panicking receptionist and her blood curdling scream was the perfect distraction. Police officers flooded the scene, taking charge immediately. When some of them lifted their eyes to the sky to see where the bullet had come from, none of them even glanced at the suburban house directly across from them, where Tadashi had already lined up his next shot.

• ••

Oikawa watched as the police station fell to panic, and he tugged his turtleneck higher up his neck. Then he grabbed a knife from its sheath and turned to Ennoshita, “Jay-kun, don’t kill anyone. Make sure to immobilise. This is a rescue mission, we getting out fucking family.”

Both of them knew that Oikawa was more saying that for himself then for the other man, but neither decided to comment on that fact. Both of them found a solace in their silence, and they didn’t want to disturb that. Pulling their black masks to obscure their faces, they nodded, then headed into the fray.

• •• 

Iwaizumi’s car rolled to a stop, he was late to tell his boss to go the fuck back home to sleep – but he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. That is, he wasn’t prepared to see two men dressed in all black to be fighting Kyoutani, surrounded by bleeding and unconscious police officers.

“OFFICER KYOUTANI.” He shouted with all of his authority, “IF YOU LOSE, I’M GIVING YOU A PAY CUT.”

Immediately, Iwa shed his coat, and stepped up the steps – ready to fight. The taller man of the two seemed happy to comply. His perfectly quaffed hair and his brown eyes seemed to taunt him, and Iwa was sure the man was smirking underneath his mask.

“Aren’t you threatening Officer?” The man breathed, avoiding Iwa’s attempt to slam him to the ground.

The man was graceful in his movements, and seemed to be avoiding everything with ease. Then from out of nowhere, Iwa’s side started to hurt – a foot digging into his side. And then the man flipped and Iwa was on his side, hands clasping onto the leg that had pinned him down. He had no idea what had just happened, but everyone in the office had acknowledged his death grip and there was no way he was letting go.

“Oh dear, trying to immobilise me, are you?” Oikawa posed sweetly, dodging a stray fist from Kyoutani. He chuckled from beneath his mask, “Sorry Officer, but better luck next time.”

Oikawa wrenched his leg free, and had to give it to the officer – his grip was strong. But, his thighs and leg strength, after so many years of training – were a whole lot fucking stronger. So was his need to get his family back.

“Jay-kun! I’ll leave these bastards to you.” He said sweetly, voice dropping to drip in cold malice when he mentioned the officers, “It’ll be good... hmm… practice for you.”

Something told Iwaizumi that this man who had just taken him down had an extremely sharp and quick tongue. And something about that was tantalizingly attractive. Because there was something distinctly omegan about the smell, about the eyes, about the hips and the curves of the masked man’s figure – and he couldn’t help but be curious what lay behind the mask. Not that Iwa was one to objectify, his respect for omegas was only growing with each passing second being in their company.

That being said, he’d never been treated like this in his life.

“We’re not done yet.” He said, getting to his feet, hands up – a boxer’s stance, Oikawa noted, turning around – ready to continue, despite the throbbing in his head from where he’d made contact with the hard marble ground.

“Oh baby, I think we are.” Oikawa laughed, then sent a flying kick right to the officer’s face, knocking him back. Without so much as glancing back to witness the landing, he spun on his heel and raced off in the direction of the stares – where the hell were his friends?

He raced up the stairs, taking three at a time, only stopping to deal with an annoying staff member trying to stop him. Along the corridor, doors greeted him and, in his panic, to find Suga, Hinata and Natsu, he flung them open – not even bothering to explain anything to the shocked workers inside.

The next door looked slightly marred, slightly bent out of shape – and Oikawa felt his heart plummet. He flung it open to find his brother sitting there facing a dark haired somebody with deep eyes that weren’t exactly befitting of a police officer. The tension in the room could be cut by a knife

“Raven!” Hinata’s head whipped around to greet him, his handcuffs clinking against the metal. The police officer was barely half out of his seat, when Oikawa in one smooth solid movement pulled his gun from his holster and shot the handcuffs, allowing Hinata to be free again. The officer was lunging across the room as Oikawa tossed Hinata the gun, “Magazine’s full chibi-chan, use it well. I’m finding Crow-san.”

Just as Kageyama was in reach of the intruder, the man dashed away and Kageyama was left to grasp at air and turn to see just how much the roles had reversed. The omega was now standing, cuffs dangling pointlessly, barrel of the gun barely fifteen centimetres away from Kageyama’s heart.

“Look how the tables turn, bitch.” The orange haired man spat, “Now put your hands where I can fucking see them, or be prepared to face the consequences.”

Kageyama quickly put his hands in the air, knowing that even he, with his analytical pinpoint accuracy, couldn’t dodge a bullet at this range. Heck, at any range. But he know there was no way of removing the gun from the omega’s hands, not when his knuckles were that white.

“Don’t do something you regret omega.”

“Don’t call me that.” He chided, face screwed up in disgust – Hinata hated being put down, especially when it came to his secondary gender, “I’m the one with the fucking gun here. Pick your goddamn battles.”

And they stood like that, a stalemate for a couple of minutes, the eye of the cyclone around them. Hinata personally, didn’t really want to shoot the officer – though he was pissed, he just wanted to find Natsu. Though he was unsure of what chaos would ensue if they left the room.

• •• 

Suga watched as another police officer entered the room and began to talk in low tones to the alpha across from him, no doubt reporting the havoc his own subordinates were wrecking. Rook-san’s code was obvious and clear, and he knew he’d only be staying here for a little while longer. Though, teaming up with the police officers may be their best choice for taking the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate down, after all, those bastards had friends in high places.

The police officers would be a good decoy, a good façade – a way to obtain more information, bolster their numbers. That being said, Suga would have to stop them from discovering the whole truth – a truth that could end up with them in prison, or worse, dead.

As the alpha officers talked, Suga thought. He weighed up the pros and cons in his head and decided.

“Men, I have an offer for you.” Looking as professional as he could, handcuffed to the table, dropping all silliness and pretences, he let his face become a mask of business. He had a history in diplomacy – Suga would make sure things went his way.

Daichi turned to face him and the other officer gulped at the shark-like look on Suga’s face.

“Go ahead.” The captain offered.

“I will agree to partner up, and provide information, as long as our backgrounds and methods aren’t questioned.”

“What benefits will you gain from this?” The alpha was direct and straight to the point. Smart, though Suga unwillingly. He grinned and shrugged casually, not about to admit the fact that the police would be clearing the market of his competitors, “Common goal, I guess. Oh and I also want my pups granted full immunity – any investigations you want to conduct after, any punishments can fall to me.”

Daichi was a bit shocked at the last statement. That was like suicide. Just the evidence from this raider’s case alone would be enough to get him a lifelong sentence. And he couldn’t agree to full immunity for the other members of the Corvids either, justice had to be delivered. But he looked at the handsome, soft yet calculating bottomless brown eyes of the other and he felt his unwavering resolve waver for the first time. He thought of the eight long years of tracking omega trafficking and of resolving it and he caved.

“One condition though, all activities must be above board – legal. And full communication, no secrets.”

“Okay then Mr Captain.” Suga smiled, “Deal. I’d shake your hand, but I’m cuffed. Do you reckon you can loosen these?”

He raised his hands enough to hold the cuffs taut. Daichi blushed at the ‘Mr Captain’ address and the perfect smile he saw perched on those taunting lips and then fought to regain his composure. Lifting the keys from his belt he unlocked the cuffs, the alpha officer that was previously talking to him forgotten. Suga rubbed the sore spots on his hands, and sent the captain another sweet smile, then turned to the alpha officer waiting in the shadows.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go handle this mess.”

“Uh.. sir..” The officer seemed unequipped to handle the situation – why would the Captain just uncuff this omega, what deal had just been made? “Shouldn’t you, as an omega sir, uh… wouldn’t you be safer waiting here while we officers go handle it?”

Suga stood, chair scraping back, face contorted into a display of anger and vehemence. He didn’t notice the taken aback look that had fallen on Mr Captain’s face, instead focusing on the alpha officer. All of a sudden, despite his secondary gender, despite his status as an omega, he seemed to dominate the room. His presence filled and engulfed every space and the two alphas just watched in shock as he growled – low enough to be taken as an alpha. His eyes bore into the young alpha officer, “If I say I can handle it, I can handle it.”

“Stay here son,” Daichi commanded the young officer as the silver haired man hissed then stormed from the room, “I’ll follow.”

How could the silver-haired man possibly remedy this situation? How would he get his men to comply? What devastation lay outside their room? Daichi could only follow the omega out, hesitating in anticipation of what was to come. He only hoped that the Corvids would be in okay shape, he only hoped that his men hadn’t roughed them up too much.

Chapter Text

Daichi followed the silver-haired man, three steps behind the other. Suga, now uncuffed and coated again – he’d gone immediately into the side room to find his stuff that the officers had confiscated – exuded an air of quiet confidence. Quiet confidence and a touch of silent domination. The Captain squared his shoulders and followed the man, curious to see how he would handle this.

The first door they passed was ajar, and from it burst two men frantically fighting.  Daichi immediately recognised the one clad in police uniform as Terushima, the happy-go-lucky, idiot being pushed up against the wall by a tall black-clad figure wearing a black cloth mask. His eyes wandered to the silver-haired man.

 What now?  They seemed to say. Suga saw this and felt disgusted – this was an obvious test of his authority. Or at least, a hope for him to show a crack in his composure. But he had resolved, when starting the Corvids to never reveal his weaknesses to another alpha again, so he straightened and hissed, at the two – the two now openly brawling.

Oikawa threw a straight at the officer’s face and Suga sighed at how weak it looked. He’d have to discipline Oikawa into hardening his fists, to bring them up to the same level as his well-toned legs. Not that they were necessarily weak, the officer going stumbling back into the wall.

“Stand down Raven-kun.”

Oikawa shivered where he stood, the tone of voice authoritarian and immediately jumped off the offending officer.

“Crow-san!” His eyes grinned at him, relieved, the rest of his face covered, “I was going to come find you but the scoundrel, he had ‘Tsu.”

“Oh?” Suga raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to keep his cool. He darted into the room they left, leaving the two officers standing there quite shocked at the display – Oikawa merely narrowing his eyes at them. Then he pulled a gun from his belt and held it to Terushima’s head, from where the alpha was still panting.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow his brains out.” The comment was directed towards Daichi, and the captain was more surprised to hear someone else laughing. Shifting his eyes beyond Terushima and the black masked man he was even more surprised, if that was possible, to see the short redheaded omega they’d apprehended. The short little omega was, handcuffs still wrapped around his thin wrists, holding a gun to Officer Kageyama’s forehead.

Officer Kageyama, the same man who could tear apart any criminal with a few moves or a few words, analysing them critically and pinpointing their weakness, destroying them. A gun to his head. How had this happened?

Oikawa didn’t move but he recognised the laugh, so he offered a dry one of his own, “Raven-kun glad to see you’re still alive and kicking ass.”

“I thought that was your specialty Raven.” The redheaded omega taunted back, smiling, “I’m more of a gunner myself.”

Daichi felt shivers go down his spine as his head pounded. How had his officers been taken advantage of like this, and what was with the same names?

“Don’t fucking move you bastard, I swear to god, you think of jumping me, I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” Kageyama had only shifted, but the movement didn’t go unnoticed. Hinata tightened his grip on his gun and didn’t so much as shift his eyes from the alpha. Not even at another small chuckle, as much as the alpha had been relentless with his questions, the omega was relentless with his victims.

“Talk that big and you’ll have to follow it up.” scoffed Oikawa, then knowing Daichi was there sent a sly look his way “So, what are you going to do now, Mr Captain man?”

Terushima and Kageyama both turned their gaze to their Captain, but before any sound could escape their mouths, the silver haired man, looking in their opinions, badass and frightening as fuck, emerged from the room, the small redheaded omegan female following in his wake. And they noticed how immediately the tension in the two gun-wielding omegas seemed to lessen slightly. How they waited for the orders of their own boss.

“Stand down, Ravens. Holster, regroup and relocate – then I’ll brief you.” His voice was even but dripped in a dangerous something no alpha could place. The omegas immediately backed off and holstered their guns, dropping their gaze in respect. The action left the two alpha officers in shock, despite already witnessing Suga’s dominating behaviour. They watched as the two omegas took the young girl’s hand and led her off down the corridor, raising gleaming knives at anyone in their way. Did they really trust that silver-haired man that much – to leave him alone with three alphas?

Suga turned to the Captain, unaware of the turmoil within the two wall-backed alphas, or merely uncaring. His gaze didn’t lose the hardened dominating glare he’d used in the interrogation room earlier, but he softened his frown. Time to set the terms, or he’d never get a say. The Captain watched him in nervous anticipation.

“Captain-san, I want you to bring yourself and your unit down to The Corvids gym in the West Estate – warehouse 42. Tomorrow. No if, buts or maybes. If you want the deal, information – you’ll show up.” Suga’s voice neither wavered nor trailed, firm to the last syllable. In contrast, he smiled at the alpha then turned, glanced at the roughed-up shirts and tousled hair of the police officers, the split lips and puffy cheeks, and grinned even wider, “Oh, also I’m sorry for the damage my crows caused to your building.”

Daichi looked at the silver hair and the chocolate brown eyes and the soft but calculating smile and he nearly smiled back. But he couldn’t. The silver-haired man ran a gang, a dangerous one at that, and he was the head of a detective unit. So, instead, he lifted his head, nodded and put out a hand to stop the low growls emanating from his subordinates, “Don’t do anything rash Officer Kageyama. I’ll explain everything, just let him go.” Then to the 2omega, “We’ll be there, Crow.”

Suga lifted his brows in acknowledgement, “Don’t be late.”

With those final words, he spun of his heel and stalked down the corridor and descended the rest of the stairs, like a demonic angel.

“Um.. Captain.” Terushima groaned, blood starting to trickle down the back of his neck – as if it was previously scared to in the omega’s presence, “What the fuck?”

Kageyama merely stared off into the distance, watching the ghost of the orange haired omega, trying to catch his lingering scent. Something that smelt of nothing, yet everything – he couldn’t pinpoint the distinct parts. It was the first time he’d ever felt at a loss of what to do, the dominating alpha in control of every situation, at a loss. Him? Yes. All because of an omega who wanted nothing more than to kill him. It made his skin shiver.

Also – he turned to the Captain, his skills completely missing the awestruck look on the other’s face, “Sir, you didn’t agree on a time.”

• ••

Suga made his way down the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. He just struck a deal with the head of a fucking detective unit – the buys would have his heads. Shit, how was he going to explain this to Oikawa and Hinata, Ennoshita, and… fuck… especially Tadashi? But he didn’t allow himself to be caught up in his thoughts – they had to make a safe retreat to their base. He had to get his head around what had just happened and make plans for what he was going to do.

The reception and assorted rooms that lined the first floor were a mess. He stepped over a few bodies here and there, now flanked by his two closest subordinates and friends – easily, making their way to the entrance. It was the first thing since entering the godforsaken place that felt relatively easy, and he let a small smile grace his lips. Oikawa and Hinata were watching his back and there was no one in front to contest with.

Alas, the front of the station boasted only one man standing. Ennoshita stood on the first step, clad in black, wiping blood from his mask. Yet another two alpha officers were positioned with their backs against the wall – what was it with police officers and having their arses pressed into concrete walls?  – but it did not faze Suga.

“Jay-kun.” He smiled, “You did good.”

The omega spun and nearly lost his footing but by the way his eyes were crinkling and the way his scent leaked – everyone could tell he was pleased. Had it been more potent it would’ve been a heady smell of black ink and heroine but it was low and faint, teasing the alphas in the vicinity. From the briefcase beside him on the ground, he drew a can of spray paint, “Do I mark it Crow-san?”

Suga smirked, from his coat taking a pair of dark sunglasses, “Don’t bother. They’re already dancing in the palms of our hands.”

With that last sentence, the four men walked down the steps of the police station, coats and blazers fluttering in the wind, leaving the policemen to clean up their mess and their minds behind them.

• ••

Tadashi packed up as soon as his job was done. He kindly thanked the alpha, who urged him to come again and please bring Raven-senpai and Crow-senpai. He ruffled the hair of a young female pup, presented omega at birth, chirping that he was the coolest and she definitely wanted to be a Corvid when she was older, and could she please come to the gym on Friday after school so he could teach her how to shoot. And he smiled and ruffled her hair and gave her a small stern no, and that he would protect her, and how she didn’t need to get messed up in worldly affairs. He smiled and thanked them again and then carrying his long thin briefcase, he left the building.

He left with a bittersweet taste in his mouth, at the family life he knew he and his friends all deserved – the one they could not get. But he held his head moderately high and repeated the mantra that he and Oikawa shared – “Own your past Magpie. Own your fucking past.”

The streets in this neighbourhood were clean, and empty, and Tadashi wondered what sort of rumours would spread in the many cul-de-sacs about a black-clad man carrying a suspicious briefcase. It had happened before. Attacks that it. Whispers carried from person to person, and enemies trying to fight, exploit the weakest link. But he had a gun in his hand and a knife strapped to his ankle – and even if he didn’t want to use it, it was a measure of self-defence. Even if he didn’t think he’d get attacked in broad daylight, his heart still ran a mile a minute, and sweat trickled down his face. Paranoia. Trauma.

“Own your past.” He whispered.

Then he saw the black car rumbling towards him slowly and he felt like running, but his feet were rooted in place. The black tinted windscreen and windows did nothing to calm him down, and as the car slowed to a stop beside his rooted feet he felt as if the ground should swallow him whole. He had a right to disappear at least once, right? Then the window slid down and he felt like a fool, looking at Oikawa’s grinning face.

“Mission success Tadashi.” He laughed, “Everyone got out a-ok.”

 And he sighed and felt his anxiety subside and felt his scent lessen. So Tadashi nodded, opened the trunk, lay his case gingerly down on top of the other briefcases – the ones containing dangerous items that if ignited would send them all to their horrific deaths without even a shred of skin left to identify them with – sighed to himself, and willed his body to calm.

Then he got in the car with the rest of his family. To anyone outside the vehicle, to anyone else that may have been present, it would’ve seemed like a normal get-together with friends. Aside from the fact that they’d exceeded the passenger limit by one and were talking about their feats of excellence.

“So Suga,” Oikawa clapped his hands together, back to his joyous self after seeing one of his best friends in once piece, “When can we see your new tattoo?”

“Yeah, which print did he choose Ennoshita-kun?” Hinata asked, the question quick to slip off his tongue. Natsu sat uncomfortably on his lap, head lolling against his shoulder. The day had taken her fight out of her, and the faint smell of her anxiety lingered. It was similar to her brothers, instead of being ginger and sunflowers it was lovely jasmine and ginger – with the jasmine taking the lead. Hinata hugged her closer and began to rub the bottom of his chin on her hair – even if he knew it wouldn’t be effective.

Ennoshita clicked his tongue, “Have to wait and see. Though I think it’s my best one yet.”

Suga laughed, light and tinkling sound that calmed the hyped atmosphere of the car, “I haven’t had a chance to check yet.”

His grip on the wheel tightened though it may have slipped some people’s view, it didn’t slip Tadashi’s. With yet another sinking feeling in his stomach, familiar by now, Tadashi realised that they may have bigger fish to fry. A lot bigger fish. His handle on his scent and his rationality started to slip.

“Though…” Suga’s voice was firm, soft, but now, even the people who didn’t notice the white grip on the wheel, felt the tension in the man. The omegas scent began to leak, slowly but surely. And the car suddenly felt alive with electricity. Oikawa, Hinata, Ennoshita and Tadashi straightened, their backs twitching, feeling a need to escape the danger about to ensue. And then, as soon as the smell reached every corner, Suga’s scent was overpowering – the smell of honeysuckle and fresh linen overcoming everything. His eyes began to glaze over, morphing colours until they settled on a soul-sucking black. His hands, knuckles loosened their grips, slipping.

Oikawa yelped, waking from his reverie as the car swerved, “SUGA, SNAP OUT OF IT.”

The man jumped and his eyes shifted back to their natural brown. His face went from stone cold serious to frightened, shocked and scared. His scent soured and immediately he tried to reel it in. “Shit guys, I’m so sorry. Fuck. I’ve fucked up. Shit.”

“Suga! Calm down.” Hinata immediately asserted, his hand coming out to touch his friend. There was no hesitation in his grasp and for that the silver-haired omega was so thankful – he hadn’t lost anything else. He righted the car, and his arms began to shake.

“I’m so sorry. Shit, I forgot to take my suppressants and... fuck.” All of a sudden, tears welled in his eyes, “Guys, I’ve fucked up. I agreed to something I don’t think I should have. A deal with the police. It’s fucking dangerous, but I just want to take down the OTCS and shit. I’ve put you all in danger. Fuck. Shit.”

“Suga.” Hissed Oikawa. “Stop –“

Tadashi felt his blood boil, “Suga-senpai don’t you fucking DARE say that. You’re our boss. You saved all of us. Don’t… we’re here for you. There’s nothing you can say that will dissuade us from this job. Remember what they did to Natsu. Remember what they did to us. Own your past Suga. Don’t let it swallow you.”

The omega swallowed, ironically, but the lump in his throat didn’t disappear. It was his first time speaking out against his senior, but it was his first time seeing Suga so out of control. Oikawa and Hinata had their hands on his shoulder and they were pushing out their scents, trying to calm him down. Apparently, it wasn’t their first time seeing him like this. It would make sense, a day didn’t go by that the omega didn’t see the three together.

“Tell us, please –“ His voice cracked and he caught Suga’s teary eyes in the review mirror, “What’s deal did you make with the police?”

Suga wiped at his eyes, and he mirrored Tadashi’s action of swallowing. He gripped the wheel steady as they turned a corner, snaking their way slowly back. Took an audible breath. Met each of the omega’s eyes in the rear review mirror, one by one. Met Oikawa’s concerned but reliable gaze beside him. Felt the warmth of the omegan hands on his shoulder and the forced calm that radiated from that spot. He took another audible breath.

His demeanour shifted.

“Sorry for that moment of weakness.” All of a sudden, his no-nonsense mother-like attitude was back, a handle on his scent and his emotions tightening until there was no sign of the previous wreck left. The vulnerabilities vanished behind his normal cool gaze, “In answer to your question Tadashi-kun, I had an impromptu meeting with the head of the detective unit. From what I gathered from the interrogation; they’ve been tracking down omega trafficking. As if the dumbasses think it’s one organisation or some shit. I’ll run you from the top.”

• ••

Yu Nishinoya was in awe. In awe at the speed and the care the silver-haired crow showed in handling the situation. The omega had done his best to keep the 29 other pups safe – he found that he was the oldest by far, taken only for the pitiful amount of cash he was sold for, and he thought he’d done a good job. But the job was only a tenth of what Crow-san was doing.

“Please!” One small pup begged, her thin hands shaking as she clasped them together. Her face was being carefully rubbed by Suga, a washer running over her sensitive skin. The mask of grime that matted her face was falling away slowly but surely, “I don’t want to go back home. I… I don’t want to get collared. I don’t want to go to a rut house. Please Crow-senpai.”

“Shh child.” His voice was as gentle as it was silky, and his calming scent was like a drug to the worried omegas. The washer was rinsed in a bucket of clean soapy water and brought back up, “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. We can send you to a better place.”

Noya had to look away to hide his tears, tried to block out the sight. As much as he wanted to escape and get away from his horrible past, to leave this cursed country, with its fucked-up monarchy and dictatorship, he wanted revenge. For the time being, he wanted revenge on the people who had stolen him.

A hand came to his back to console him, one of the Ravens, the same one who had invited him in, offering a comforting touch. Though there was an ulterior motive, he found out as Oikawa leaned in and whispered, “We’ll start your initiation tomorrow. Crow-san has agreed to letting you in after you’ve been fed and are well rested.”

Noya could not help but let his heart skip a beat, release a happy scent – an odd combination of pears and melted sugar, the type that would crystallize into honeycomb. Oikawa recognised the scent from the markets, and wondered what had impacted Noya so much as to form this scent. But then the omega frowned and turned to face his senior.

 “Does that mean I’m on a probation type thing?” The young omega asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“No, it means we’ll be teaching you everything you need to know.” Oikawa smiled warmly at him, soothing the young man’s worries but then turned his eyes towards Suga, the stale air betraying his similar scent of anxiety. The other omega was splitting the group into those that wanted to go back to their families and those that wanted to leave. It was those that wanted to go back to their families that posed the most threat to the Corvids – if anyone so much as slipped the address at the wrong place and the wrong time the wrong people might hear it. And they didn’t want to deal with any hostage situations where rival gangs took advantage of their somewhat softer ways. The ones that wanted to leave, would leave – exported to a paradise far away.

He stood from Noya’s bed and made his way to his boss, “Crow-san, I’ll bring the injured and malnourished pups to Treepie-kun, she’ll nurse ‘em until we can pinpoint the families and the next shipment.”

Suga nodded without so much as glancing in his direction, clasping another young pup – no older than eight – to his stomach. The young pup’s sobs wet Suga’s black collared shirt and his fists smeared it with an undesirable mix. His face was screwed up with pain and shock, but he hung tight to Suga, feeling the forceful calm that the older omega blanketed him with, “Shhh, young one. Don’t be afraid. We’ll find your mother. You’ll see her soon. Just bear with us, okay?”

He knelt on the ground, now eye-level with the anxious young pup, “Are you hungry? Our nurse – she’s very kind – will feed you something very warm and filling. Don’t worry. See over there?” – he pointed to another door on the far wall, painted an equally calming light blue to the off-white chipboard walls they’d erected in this room – “In there is the kitchen. If you go in there Treepie-kun will take good care of you.”

The pup, lump in his throat making it hard to speak, bruises on his body making it hard to walk, nodded once and stumbled off in the direction of the kitchens, Oikawa shepherding and shadowing his movements lest he was to fall. While they walked Oikawa took the hands of some other small pups – ones that had been cleaned by Suga and tears dies – and collected them as well to be nourished.

In this fashion the pups were quickly and efficiently dealt with, after every one that passed through Suga’s caring hands, a silent observer by the wall made notes, his green tinted black hair catching the light every now and again. Noya noticed him but didn’t seek out his gaze, observing the way his hands trembled every now and then – even though there was no breeze blowing. He wondered why his hands shook. He wondered what the man was taking notes on.

Tadashi’s notes, were as always perfect, his hand flying across the page as he recorded the name, the age, and wish of the young omegas – as well as their bed numbers and general appearance. In rushed capitals he scribed their futures, at least their short futures with the Corvids – EXPORT or RETURN. They had two options, return to where they were stolen from, or given a new life in a better country – one whose rules weren’t so backwards.

These pups were the Founds, the ones that had gone through hardships – and the ones that Suga was trying so hard to make sure, that even with their disadvantaged secondary gender, would never go through such struggles again. At least mitigate the struggles.

And when the last pup was taken care of, save for the one with blond bangs, Suga turned to the notetaker, and gave him a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry Magpie-kun, I’m not angry at you for your outburst earlier.” He paused, frowned, then smothered it, “I’m quite thankful for it actually. You’ve definitely grown since I found you, you’re growing into yourself. Now I must ask you again for your help –” His reassuring smile morphed into a mischievous one, “with this cute little new recruit over here.”

Noya blushed. For the first time that day, Tadashi felt a genuine, a true genuine smile come over his face – they were getting a new brother, “Sure! What can I do for you Boss?”

“Take him to The House. Get him settled in.”

“Yes Boss.” Tadashi nodded, took the omega – smaller but honestly, probably older – and led him out of the room.

• ••

It was dark. Ennoshita leant on the railing overlooking the ground floor, cigarette held to his mouth. His eyes scanned the papers that Tadashi had handed him in passing. This raid, unsurprisingly, yielded many EXPORTs – but he was focused on the five RETURNs, as the newest member, and one that had extensive connections to many Central Street rats – due to his less than righteous day job, it was his duty to subtlety spread the word of the RETURNs. They needed to get the pups back to their families as soon as possible.

Not only was it a risk to their identity to have them around for too long, but if scared middle-class parents were to file a missing person’s report – like the ignorant fools they were – then it would be game over.

After all, it was common knowledge, in the Port – what was lost, was seldom found. Be it shipments of weapons, trucks of imported food, houses, drugs – families, once the city swallowed them, it was often too late. Especially for omegas.

Ennoshita grit his teeth and took another long drag on his cigarette. Then flicking the butt onto the floor, he gripped the papers tighter and entered the room behind him. His room. It was sparsely decorated, but there was certainly taste in his chosen décor – that is, the wall to wall, floor to ceiling graffiti he’d inflicted. Mainly black, with stripes of colours painted to look like flaming, melting skulls. He was aware it wasn’t everyone’s taste in décor, but at least the skull was anatomically accurate. He hadn’t spent hours trapped under rubble watching his orphaned omegan brothers and sisters burn for nothing. He hadn’t walked into the life he lived to forget – he lived to remember. Lifting his free hand to his lips he kissed it then placed the kiss on where the mouth would’ve been – now just painted white lines.

There was nothing else in the room but those morbid images, the bed that was barely a mattress on the floor, a weapons rack beside it and a small desk shoved in one corner. He let the notes fall to the desk and removed his knife from his ankle. Taking the edge of his sheets he cleaned it, blew on it, polished it and shoved it back in his ankle sheath. He’d learnt in his first week of initiation to never leave it behind.

As soon as he’d completed his ritual he turned his attention back to the papers, and taking a notebook from his desk, scrawled down the five Founds he was to return. And as soon as that task was done, he scooped up the papers and exited the dark room – to send them on to the person that took care of the shipments, Oikawa.

He ran into Tadashi on the way again, who was leaving a previously vacant room.

“New recruit?”

The man nodded, dipping his head, “I’m not sure if he’ll make it past the initiation tomorrow. We may have to come up with another new nickname. He doesn’t look like he fits any of the existing spots.”

Ennoshita sighed, dropping his head and let his shoulders sag. The papers were clasped loose in his hands, and the railing took his weight, “Fuck. Didn’t you guys have enough trouble with Natsu-kun’s name? Though I do think that Treepie suits her. Where do you reckon his skills lie?”

Tadashi also leant on the railing, declining Ennoshita’s offer for a cigarette. He wasn’t actually too sure, but for some reason he felt as if he could trust the shorter blond-banged omega – as if he was a long-time friend rather than a newcomer. There was a conflict within him, because certainly, Tadashi thought, certainly he should be more suspicious than he was, “He strikes me as someone who would excel in scouting. Or like a gunner that supports the Ravens. I’m not sure, he seems reliable though.”

He shrugged and his eyes fell upon his notes in Ennoshita’s hands, “Do you want me to take these to Oikawa? I’m heading back to The Hospital to help put the pups to sleep.”

“Mm, alright. I need to go source the resources for tomorrow – we’re going to need a lot of ink for those lil’ pups protection.” The man handed over the notes and glanced at Tadashi’s trembling hands, “Are you sure you don’t want a smoke?”

His offer got brushed off, and he watched as Tadashi made his way down the stairs into the open space below. This was The House – their place of residence, a home away from whatever homes they had before. It was a place of solace for Ennoshita, even though he had a room in Tiger’s Tattoos to go back to. His older adoptive brothers didn’t like his involvement with the Corvids – but there was nothing they could do but annoy him on it.

Lights gleamed on the polish concrete floor, and for a second time that evening Ennoshita stared out, leaning on the railing. Desks and cabinets were dwarfed by the space, but filled it nonetheless. Run-down computers, filing systems pushed into the middle, intricate maps of the city lined the walls updated constantly, rosters of numerous jobs to be done fitted on blank concrete spaces. But – Ennoshita tapped his cigarette once, twice – there was no time to spare. Revenge had to be exacted.

He stepped down, entering the makeshift office space – and sat down at the furthest desk, the cleanest one with documents organised into files and stacks neatly labelled. There was work to be done, he had to guide the pups back home.

• ••

The night was still dark and the air still crisp and cold when Hinata awoke. His room was one of the largest, but managed to lose space constantly, filled with what the others called ‘junk’ and what he called treasures. His souvenirs and keepsakes – his hoard. The custom-made circular bed – with a dip in the middle so he wouldn’t fall out whenever he had nightmares – was filled to the brim with blankets, ones that thankful founds had pushed onto him over the years. He climbed out of it with difficulty. A small weapons rack was bolted to the wall – and the remnants of the first guns he shot hung there with pride, as did the knife that…

…well, Hinata ran his hand over his scar and remembered how close he came to being enslaved – enslaved by the promises of safety in the arms of an alpha. When in reality, those promises were all just silent lies.

In the corner a floor to ceiling set of shelves held all the small keepsakes that had once been clasped in little hands, pressed onto him by pups that regained their lives, by pups that thought it would be best to let go of every worldly possession before they start again somewhere new. He stroked a small crudely made wooden carving of a bear – in memory of the ones he’d found on cold, cold bodies.

And then he moved on, dressing in a loose black shirt and loose black pants – an outfit which made up the majority of his closet, as it did everyone else’s. As Oikawa had said when the trio had been arguing about clothing choices, black hides the blood, and the looseness provides a wide range of movements. And Hinata really didn’t give a flying shit, but he remembered rebutting Oikawa – just because it was fun.

 He sighed and checked the time, 5:15.

On time, every time.

It was time to open up the gym.

The air was cold and if he squinted through the cold fog and haze that engulfed the city he could just make out the stars. The streets were silent, but the static in his ear piece crackled and he was greeted with the voice of another early riser. Though, it was Kenma, Hinata didn’t think that man ever slept.

“On time, every time huh? What’s got you up at the crack of dawn this time Hinata.” Teasing.

Hinata watched his breath condense as he came to the only warehouse with glass store-front windows. The fake front looked ridiculous but Ennoshita had done a good job touching up the abysmal font he and Oikawa had worked so hard on.

“Opening up the shop. I’m sure you heard and saw everything yesterday from wherever you hole up but we’re getting visitors today. The police, ya know.”

“Mm.” He could hear faint pinging sounds from the other man’s end, concentration obviously split.

“Levelling up Kenma?”

There was a wry laugh that only intensified the crackling of static, “Hacking into the Duke’s personal records for a friend. Something’s been smelly fishy lately.”

“Lack of fish in exports maybe?” It was a quip, but it was followed by a silence from both of them. Hinata unlocked the door, entered and flipped over the sign from closed to open all the while wondering what could possibly be so troubling to warrant someone contacting Kenma. He was the best in the business, but to know that fact meant having numerous connections.

“It’s possible. There’s been an influx of omega births recently in the Duke’s estate – and a regression in his dealings with public affairs. The police and other politicians are having to bear his misgivings.” Tap. Tap, “I’m yet to see any links to the OTCS but I’ll let you guys know. Oh also, tell Suga that I won’t be able to work the next couple of nights. Busy.”

Hinata turned on the lights for the gym, listening. He silently padded around the floors, turning on and checking various exercise equipment, then began to set check the safety measures of the two regular boxing rings they had. The punching bags lay on the floor, waiting their turn.

“Fuck, sounds like a whole load of shit’s about to go down.”

“That’s what I said. Busy.”

“Do ya reckon we’ll be pulled into it?”

“Hard to say. You guys have the entire West Side under your thumb – but that’s just the residential and small industrial area, right? You’ve cleaned up all street gangs – so everything’s peaceful on the surface, but… West side waterfront and East side waterfront, where all the big shots are… I don’t know how many of those politicians are corrupt yet.”

“I mean, whatever affects the people of our area affects us – we’re not here just for looks. We’re trying to keep omega pups safe, and get by.” Hinata could not help but feel slightly defensive. But he couldn’t blame the other man either, after all, he only said the facts – not one to inject his own personal bias. And if Kenma was only looking at the facts, then Hinata would do his best to converse on that level as well, even if he could not help letting his emotion seep through his words.

He hooked the punching bags up and figure it would be enough to satisfy their guests. The gym was seldom used after all, it was only the waiting room, where pups got picked up by worried parents, and fears got appease. Though, Hinata wondered if they would even use this room, or if they would go out back and train. It didn’t matter to him. He would focus on furthering his own self, and finishing his long-awaited spar with Oikawa.

“I know that.” Kenma sighed across the line, and Hinata tuned back in to what his friend was saying, “Anyway, I need to go. Apparently, some bastard thinks it’s ok to set up protective measures against hackers.”

“Take care Rook.”

“You too Raven.”

“Heartwarming.” Another voice chimed in, and Hinata whirled, hand stationed just above his holster – though it was empty – only to find Suga there grinning.

“Boss,” The orange haired omega taunted, smirk taking the place of a small frown, “How are the omegas?”

Suga smiled, and Hinata noticed the bags under his eyes, “Did they not sleep well? Have you pulled an all-nighter again?”

“I slept in one of the leftover beds and woke with six bodies pressed to me. God Hinata, I nearly killed them all when I woke up. I only stopped myself when any knife was at a kids throat  – but they were just looking for someone to embrace. It fucks me up every time how people can do this. How they made me into someone like this.” His hands were shaking, “Sorry for loading this shit on you in the morning.”  

His smiled slipped, and the sadness in his eyes became fully apparent, “It’s just…this fight will never end either. There will always be prejudice against us, just because of our secondary gender. It’s fucked up.”

“Of course, it’s fucked up.” Hinata responded immediately, approaching his friend – his brother – willing his scent to surge, to comfort. But he couldn’t do it, so he settled to lay a hand on Suga’s left shoulder – noticing the way he flinched when Hinata strayed towards his right. He must’ve gotten the tattoo there, “But we’re helping those that cannot help themselves. So we have to continue the fight.”

Hinata stepped in front of Suga’s vision, and leaned in — staring him with his honeyed brown gaze — trapping him, “Don’t waver Suga. Trust yourself and trust your cause.”

“Thank you, I needed that. Hinata, Don’t let anyone change you. Bless your stubbornness.” Suga grabbed Hinata’s hand and felt the warmth through the roughened skin and wiry muscles. All of a sudden he remembered what he was really here for, why he’d bolted awake at this hour – “Shoyou, I need your help. I need you to set up inside for a training session, while I erase all evidence in the side office that we’re a trafficking business.”

“Are you telling me..” Hinata grinned, catching on to what Suga was saying, “Are you telling me where conning the police and monopolising the trafficking scheme?”

Suga laughed, eyes glinting, “Precisely.”

Chapter Text

Daichi had no idea what time constituted as being on time. He’d grappled with the fact for about a minute that morning, before giving up and just asking Officer Kageyama, who seemed to be as on edge as he was. It wasn’t like either of the stoic young men to be so apprehensive – but given they’d been beaten verbally and physically the day before, their home turf easily conquered by five men, omegan men at that, it made sense to be so tense.

And now, here they were. Standing in the deserted street at seven in the morning, staring at the graffitied sign CORVID’S GYM. Daichi couldn’t help but wonder how bold they wanted to be, revealing their position to the world. He wondered if they were too early, if he’d brought too many men.

The whole unit stood behind and beside him – besides Tsukkishima, currently recovering after his surgery and blood transfusion, and for a second Daichi wondered if he should send some men back, but at the look on everyone’s faces he saw they were adamant to stay. After all, each had had their ass kicked. It was time to see what these omegas were truly made of. He steeled himself and entered the building.

Iwaizumi couldn’t stop replaying yesterday’s fight in his head. Mainly because the throbbing in his nose didn’t let him forget the kick that put it there. Nor the beautiful mischievous eyes behind it. He’d boxed the majority of his life, and his childhood had had him working on labour intensive jobs way before the legal age, but to be bested in such a humiliating fashion... just who was that omega? Would he see him without the mask? His nose twitched painfully, and his instincts flared slightly – what would he smell like? He followed his Captain inside.

Kageyama followed in his superior’s wake, thoughts spiralling. He’d been lucky enough to see his victors face – but the thought of the lively honeyed eyes had shivers rocketing down his spine. Never had there been an omega, that he’d seen at least, that had dared to speak that brazenly. In fact, none of the criminals he’d apprehended, secondary gender aside, had ever dared mouthing off like that. Though, his feet tapped on soft linoleum, the orange-haired omega’s skills gave him some ground to stand on. His eyes could only just catch the omega’s movement. He couldn’t help but wonder what amazing feats he’d see today – if he’d been proven wrong again.

The officers entered, early and uninhibited, with only a slight hesitation in their steps as they remembered their defeats – from some who had been both present at the raid and the station yesterday, their defeats numbered more than one.

The bell jingled and the person at the counter raised their head. Tadashi was a bit apprehensive about taking this position, but as Suga had so rightly put it the previous night – none of the alphas had seen him yet. Perfect. He smiled at them nervously. Even dressed in casual clothes, it was clear in their stance and their domineering aura’s that they were all both alphas and police. He couldn’t help but shake slightly, wishing he had his gun in his hand. His trembling hands gripped the sign-up sheet in anticipation. What they would say next would dictate how this whole deal would go.

Daichi had no idea what he was about to say. But the man in front of him, with his doe-eyed look, simply looked like someone who need protection. He wasn’t sure what to think. What possible affiliations did this greenish haired omega, sweet and slightly skittish looking, have with a gang? The Captain returned the smile and approached the counter. There was no time to get lost in his protective side, he had people that were expecting him to lead – and expecting him to turn up, on time.

“Excuse me, uh.. sir.” The one at the front said. Tadashi recognised his shade of hair from looking through his telescopic scope at the raid – the captain man, “We’re looking for… um… the Corvids?”

“Oh.” Tadashi bit his lip to stop from grinning but to the others it merely looked like an act of fear. The man had to steel himself, “Before I take you to meet Crow-san –“

Ah, so he is part of the gang. The thought ran simultaneously through everyone’s head.

“– I will need you to each take a sign-up sheet and fill in all relevant details. Everything that isn’t needed has been crossed off.” 

Tadashi handed the papers to the one at the front. There were seven papers in his hand, but he stalled – seeing only six people.

 “I don’t see your sniper with you.” He smiled sweetly, and his stomach quivered slightly at the glares that two of the more… excitable alphas sent him. He guessed they would’ve been the ones that Ennoshita and Oikawa briefly fought at the front of the station yesterday. It was quite a show to watch. Even though he was nervous, his tongue remained sharp – and his grudge remained fully intact.

Daichi took the papers and frowned as he heard the comment slip from the omega’s lips. About to say something, he was cut off by Kageyama – quick to comment, and ignore his boss’s orders to be respectful (as usual), “How do you know our sniper isn’t one of us.”

The oppressive, angry scent easily rolled off the alpha and had Tadashi trying to resist it with all his willpower. He shrugged and rolled his eyes, trying to shield that fact that he was now feeling slightly dizzy – a warning sign, Suga had told them all, think of it as a warning sign when you’re around alphas – and he growled, “Please…, Officer, your scent is leaking. Show some self-control.”

The alpha growled menacingly, earning a slap to the back of his head from a bald looking superior, but reeled it in regardless. Tadashi smirked. Daichi gave the omega an odd look – as did the other alphas – but the man behind the counter ignored it and handed them some pens.

On the sheet nearly everything was crossed out. All it asked them for was their names – in full, scent profile and allergies.

“Um.. sorry to ask this,” The biggest of the group, whose long brown hair was gathered into a loose bun, whose eyes were a little softer and kinder than the rest of the police officers, spoke up. He addressed the omega from the back of the flock, where he was leaning on the bald guys back to write, “Why do you need to know our scent profile?”

Tadashi didn’t want to answer, but he felt he must – if not for these police officer’s peace of mind, then for his neck not wanting to disobey when Suga explicitly asked him to be hospitable and answer questions where applicable. He steadied his hands on the desk again, reminding himself of some of the skills he’d learned. If there was to be an attack, he’d be ready. He’d be ready. It was okay. He could do this. Tadashi swallowed nervously, “Well, when you leave and your scent lingers, then um... we need to be able to find perfumes and cleaning vapours to counteract them – because, uh, like you know, in the case of a..uh, in the case of one of us.. um. Yeah sorry, it’s hard to explain. Just smell is one of the strongest links to memory, so if someone has a traumatic memory linked to a particular smell and your scent just happens to match it… we want to avoid conflict between our groups if possible.”

Though it wavered in the middle, at the end his voice finished on a strong note – and he knew Suga would’ve been proud. The large alpha nodded, and continued to write – face contorted at the awkwardness of the situation and the pose in which he was writing. Tadashi watched with a little impatience as the officers began to hand the papers back. And as soon as the six papers were back in his hand’s he clipped them onto a clipboard with other sign-up sheets, both empty and filled, and walked out from behind the desk, “Follow me please.”

And with that they entered the door labelled ‘Staff Entry’ – the one which, now open, was immediately dwarfed by the large room it gained entry to. Once entering the officers couldn’t help but stop, stare at the large space and then let their eyes snap to the only other source of sound in the room – two men locked in an intense battle.

Hinata stood, hands out ready, eyes locked onto his target in the middle of a boxing ring, surrounded by what appeared to be, barbed wire. Blood trickled down a cut on his forehead, but not enough to be a hindrance to either of the men. They stood at a standstill. Across from him, Iwa recognised the man’s eyes – bright and taunting, as well as the fluffy hair that seemed too styled for its own good, but instead of the half playful smirk he’d expected to see on the man’s face it was just one of grim determination. The taller omega spit something onto the floor, and held up his hands in a defensive stance.

The tension was thick in the air, and the alphas, gaining confidence, but more entranced by the standstill the two panting individuals were in, walked forwards to stand around the ring. Through the barbed wire, Daichi noted the silver haired omega, Crow, standing watching them.

“Ravens! That’s enough for now.” He yelled, startling the men that hadn’t noticed the glint of silver. Suga effortlessly stepped over the barbed wire, “We have an audience. Let’s welcome the officers for joining us this morning.”

The two omegas immediately dropped their hands, the death glares they were giving each other easing as Suga stepped between them. It only took the boss to pass for them to shake hands, hissing slightly, acknowledging each other’s strength. Once smoothing over tension, they turned to face the pack of alphas that had invaded one of their only safe spaces.

“Tch.” Oikawa couldn’t help but click his tongue in distaste. He gave the pack a once over and nodded, “Hope you all aren’t as weak as your pathetic displays of strength at the police station were.”

“Raven-kun don’t be an ass.” Suga scolded him out of the corner of his mouth, “Go clean up, and tell Jay-kun we have the visitors. He should be finished with the..” He let his sentence trail off and tilted his head suggestively, knowing that Oikawa would know exactly what he was talking about, getting his point across, while leaving the officers in states of complete confusion. It was how they would have to operate – always three steps ahead, to make up for their biological step behind.

Hinata on the other hand, grinned at the pack, feeling his heart race in anticipation. He couldn’t help feel a little bit frightened of risk they were running, but in truth, it just made his heart race even more, “Looking forward to working with you all.”

He narrowed his eyes then, noticing the officer with the deep ocean eyes – ones that had malice entrenched in them as they glared up at him, “I hope you can keep up.”  

Suga patted him on the back and then shooed him off with Oikawa as well telling him to fetch Treepie-kun for her training, and the new initiate. All alone now, facing the six officers, Suga still managed to domineer them, positioned physically above them, demonstrating with his body language his clear-cut control over everything that was about to happen. Leaning on the barbed wire on the side that faced the puppets he would soon be puppeteering he decided, he needed to lay down some ground rules, “We need to discuss information and the deal, but before we do that, I need to make sure you lovely police officers are capable of handling the shitshow you’re about to step into.”

“Crow, with all due respect, we’ve been trained professionally to deal with all sorts of situations and –“

“You’re viewed as a clean-up crew for the gangs.” Suga’s eyes glinted dangerously and his voice cut through the murmurings of dissent, “Not one gang that makes up the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate thinks of you as a threat. You’ve tracked them for exactly, what, 8 years? And yet, you haven’t put away one person from their inner circles. I doubt you even have faces to put to your crimes.”

“Look here bastard…” The bald guy, whom his sign-up sheet would later identify him as Tanaka, spoke up, “You know nothing of the fucking struggle! It’s not our fault their slippery fucking gutter snakes.”

Another guy with two stripes of black in his blond close cut, growled. His eyes narrowed and he looked somewhat unhinged, and Suga recognised that look. Ah, so he’s Maddog – felon turned fed. Quite a few of the West Side gangs had good money on his head. He returned the glare, even though he felt the hairs on the backs of his neck rise in fright – fight or flight, his body urged him to choose flight.

“Kyoutani, Tanaka – shut the fuck up. For goodness sake, read the room.” Daichi hissed, letting loose an authoritarian scent. They shut up quickly, wondering what had their usually composed leader so on edge. Probably the fact that they were about to engage in a very illegal deal – and the fact that the police were very clearly not the ones going to be calling the shots. Not yet at least.

“They have you dancing in their palms – you only see what they want you to see. You need to learn to think how they think, more how they move and stop fighting like you’re sparring in a dojo.” Suga paused, unsure of how to go about addressing their further inadequacies.

“I hope by pointing this out, that means you’re going to do something about it.” Daichi interjected, before any of the more prideful alphas – aka, Kageyama, Iwaizumi – could dig a bit more of their collective grave. Instead, to satisfy his alpha self and his unit, he posed this as a challenge to the omega. What would he do now? Daichi wasn’t the head of the unit for nothing – he was not one to mince his words, but he knew how to carve the conversation to go his way.

Smart bastard, Suga couldn’t help but notice this challenge. Was forced by the hardened stares of the alphas to rise to it. He didn’t like being backed in a corner like this – forced to bite.

“Of course, we’re going to do something about it. We don’t want to leave you guys for another 8 years with an unfinished case.” He smirked, enjoying the way the officers had trouble keeping their growls to themselves. Even their captain looked agitated at the jab. Suga waved his hand nonchalantly, eyes flicking to the doors that opened as Oikawa and Hinata walked back in, followed in tow by the other members of his family – his gang. At the sound of the doors opening the policemen turned to see their new co-workers.

Ennoshita had a cigarette in his mouth, and his black long sleeves were rolled up to reveal impressively intricate geometric arm tats – and his expressionless eyes surveyed the crowd calmly, eating up his prey. He took the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke into the air, which drifted across the empty space slowly. He knew exactly why the boss had called him here – and he wasn’t happy about it. A few jaws among the alphas dropped.

Oikawa had also yet to find happiness in having new people around, but he saw at least some hopes in finding some entertainment. As long as he could mock and make fun of the alphan officers, then maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad. And as his eyes laid on a particularly jacked specimen, one whose nose looked red and raised – one that he had kicked yesterday – he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of playing with another alpha. The omega smiled wickedly to himself, licking his lips in excitement.

Hinata’s eyes were locked on his sister’s form, taking into account every movement, reading into her body language and holding her too him – protective. Yes, she was here to train, they all were; yes, he wanted to train with the alphas and kick their asses and work up a sweat – it sent shivers done his spine to think of fighting them properly, but his sister’s safety and mental state came first. It always did. And Natsu turned into her older brother, glaring at the police officers whose presence threatened their entire way of living. Her anxious smell rolled off her in waves, though Hinata knew of this fact only through her trembling arms as she clung to him. He growled low, and slung an arm around her shoulder, then turned to bare his fangs, in intimidation, at the alphas – small though his fangs were.

And the officers stared at the members of the gang they would be working with. Stared as they stepped under the bright harsh lights that shone down from above. And they wondered how much of their behaviour was faked, or to those who had particular experience with said members how much of a hell they had gotten themselves into.

“Jay-kun!” Suga’s voice had the man walking stiffly over, on edge. “I’m going to be leaving the handling of the officers to you and the Ravens, I need to start the initiation and training for the other two.”

Ennoshita nodded then turned his eyes towards the pack of alphas. Of all the members of the gang, he was the one who had probably had the most experience dealing with alphas in an alphan way. Though omegan himself, he knew there was a distinct difference between him and the other Corvids. That of the fact of his alphan adoptive brothers. He would treat these officers like he would his older brothers. With that mildly calming thought he strode over to the pack, and addressed the obvious man in charge.

“Sir, I’m going to need you and your unit to go and stand over there on the training mats my colleague has laid out.”

Daichi was surprised by the even, unwavering tone of the omega, even more so at his expressionless face, even more so at the respect the man held for the alphas and the rest of the gang. The Captain motioned to the group to follow him to where Tadashi was counting mats. The omega upon seeing the six men lumbering over, shivered noticeably and called to his boss, someone who he could trust – “Crow-san, would you mind if I were to set up the targets?”

“Targets?” Tanaka whispered to Asahi, confused. The alpha’s eyes however were not hovering on the green haired man, but on the man still smoking, expressionless face sweeping across the room. The unit’s eyes collectively flicked over to where the silver-haired boss was standing, looking absolutely in control, still on the raised boxing ring, now directing the rest of the gang.

“Of course, Magpie. If you can hit the corner one’s dead centre from position A, I’ll toss you a penny.”

It was the most confusing statement the police have ever heard, but Kageyama, somewhat knowledgeable on weaponry and military lingo, even though this was butchered completely, had an idea of what was being said. Having been raised in an all-alpha household of nobility, it was interesting to hear the well-worn phrase, “I’ll toss you a penny,” being spoken. The phrase meant to allow someone to fulfill their desires, or run wild, he wondered what sort of background this Crow-san had, to be using the phrase of nobles to flippantly. He also couldn’t help wonder what sort of gunner this timid looking omega was.

“Okay, may I have your attention please?” Ennoshita’s voice drew the alphas closer, “For these exercises, please remove all jewellery, accessories – whatever you may have on you and place them along the wall. Shoes as well. On these mats we go barefoot.”

They followed instructions, if not a little reluctantly. Feeling their necks burn a little in humiliation as they placed themselves in vulnerable positions, slipping their shoes off with difficulty. Ennoshita stood imposingly over them, looking tense but relaxed at the same time, drawing another cigarette from the packet in his pocket then taking a lighter and lighting it. Tanaka couldn’t help but looking at the way mouth twitched as he held the cigarette in his mouth, eyes looking off into the distance as Suga waved off the one with quaffed hair. And then Ennoshita turned his attention back to the group and the alpha was shocked at how quickly the face turned back into a cold mask of indifference. He didn’t think he’d ever been intrigued by an omega that wasn’t a soft housewife type, but here he was, catching himself staring at one that screamed in quiet confidence.

As opposed to the loud confidence that was quickly approaching. Iwa watched the omega approach, taking in his face for the first time. He’d been thinking about this encounter all night last night, going so far as to stay at the office longer than Daichi (and that was a struggle, because that man was a workaholic), trying to piece the glimpses of skin together like he wasn’t some kind of pervert. But now, upon seeing Oikawa’s face, he realised his imagination could never concoct something as beautiful as this. The omega smirked and his lips sat in perfect harmony with each other and Iwa couldn’t look away.

“So.. you hot fuckers.” And then they couldn’t believe their ears, as well as their eyes, “I believe it’s time for you to show us those measly skills you’ve got. Right now, your only redeeming factor is that the OTCS will think you’re too cute to kill.”

Oikawa clapped his hands, and instructed them carefully through what they were supposed to be doing, switching between flirtatious and serious as if it were a switch in his body. Ennoshita stood off to the side to begin with, but as soon as they started practicing, he started to walk among them, correcting their posture or position with a careful guiding hand. When they growled and bared his fangs at his criticism he merely growled back, “Can’t handle the fucking truth? Pussy.”

And then the offending alpha would either correct his position or bite back, not believing. The ones who bit back, he’d stop them and then, with Oikawa’s teasing help, drag them to the front of the mats for a sparring session.

“If you can knock the cigarette from my mouth, it’s my loss. It’s my win, if you concede defeat, or get knocked unconscious.” This time it was the alpha with tennis-ball head who had dared to bite back. Ennoshita beckoned for him to start, and they began to clashing. It was violent, and Kyoutani, who out of the entire unit, had the most experience on the streets seemed fit to be Ennoshita’s match. They seemed to be at a draw, that is until that Kageyama noted that Ennoshita hadn’t used his hands yet. And it was true, merely keeping them in the defensive position, held up loosely to his face, front knuckle of his thumbs brushing against his chin. Ready to block any hit that came.

The minute he used his hands the minute it was over. His technique was precise, though speed was lacking, Oikawa had to note that he had the heaviest fists in the gang. Jays, as in the birds, were known for being loud and noisy, and Ennoshita had been named ironically – but they were smart, and they were aggressive, a side to the omega that was only revealed in his fighting. His fists were heavy, and he didn’t know how to hold back. They were lucky he was so calm-tempered, because an angry Ennoshita was not something they wanted to deal with. And they were lucky that the three higher-ups were stronger, and were there to take care of him when he did lose it.

“Come on Maddog.” He called teasingly to the sparring duo, “I’ve fought you on the streets, can’t you do better than that? Where’s the rage I saw when you protecting your girlfriend?”

“What?” Something sparked in Kyoutani’s eyes.

“Ya know,” Oikawa’s eyes glittered with malice, and Ennoshita, pulling back from the intense spar, swore inwardly. He was going to fucking go and create trouble again wasn’t he. Little shit’s making my job harder. But at the same time, was intrigued about this. The other alpha’s must’ve thought the same, for their eyes flicked between the two in avid apprehension.

Tanaka leaned forward to tap his senior Iwaizumi on the shoulder, “Oi, Vice, what’s the deal with..”

Iwa still couldn’t take his eyes of the omega’s cruel curling of the lip, nor the taunting eyes. He wanted to see him fight again – when he was at a position to observe and truly witness his abilities, “Kyoutani used to be involved with Central street thugs, he was an informant, but we pulled him out when he started to get unstable. This should be..” There was pause as a growl left the blond and was returned with a cold laugh “… should be about that.”

“Ya know what?” Kyoutani spat.

“You know, Yahaba-kun. He’s still head over heels for you, despite getting beaten every other night for dating a cop.” Oikawa’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, but Ennoshita stepped forward, knowing that this was slipping dangerously to waters very much charted and very much a dangerous place. This is lingering uncomfortably on the edge of Oikawa’s deep, dark past – one that only Suga and Hinata knew the true depths of.

“Fuck you Raven, or whatever the fuck your real name is. You don’t think I don’t remember you sucking up to –“

Before the alpha could finish, he’d been roundhouse kicked. Oikawa’s face flushed with rage and shame, and hatred, pure fucking hatred and not one of the alpha’s could tell who it was directed at. As the omega’s eyes swept over the group, Iwa caught them, and felt chills erupt over his body and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Standing in front of them was an omega about to go feral. His scent was leaking horribly, soured smell of woodsmoke and rain, though with his anger the smoke smelt like that of burning rubber on asphalt. Everyone’s hands flew to their noses and Asahi gagged.

Seeing their reaction Oikawa calmed down slightly and a slight smirk returned to his face. Ennoshita gripped his shoulder and then smacked up the back of his head, despite his inferior status, “Dumbass, don’t do that.”

In some distant part of his brain, Iwa wished that he was the one doing that.

“Fuck off Jay. And you lot, congratulations you’ve graduated from kindergarten of hand to hand contact, we’re moving to knives.” Oikawa gave Ennoshita a look, “I’m going to get my set of throwing knives. We’ll be practicing hitting targets in a wall. If you fuck up, well…” He chuckled with little mirth, “You won’t think of fucking up again.”

“Again!” A voice rang out across the large space, echoing slightly. Oikawa stiffened and turned his head to see Suga and Hinata, trapped in the boxing ring, “Raven I don’t want to tell you again. Use the space you’re given, take advantage of your slight build and slip between them. Get caught and it’s game over. Hear me? GAME OVER. Don’t fuck up.”

“Yes.” Hinata was staring at Suga with eyes wide and determined and his heart thudded in his chest.

“Say it again, tell me. What will you do?” The authority in his tone was not lost on Hinata, nor the alphas who, at Oikawa’s loss of concentration, had turned to spot the source, “Tell me Raven, when they go for the kill what will you do?”

“Immobilize. Remove any way of calling for backup, get out of the open space, find somewhere where I can use the surroundings to my advantage.”

“And what will you be looking for?”

“Information Crow-san. Torture them slowly, for information.” The blood lust in Hinata’s eyes nearly physically coloured them red, but instead his honeyed eyes merely turned dark and wanting.

“Then attack me like that.”

Suga lunged and only then did Daichi realise that he was holding two knives in his hands, slashing at the Raven’s neck. He glanced over to the other Raven standing just in front of him, trying to gauge his reaction to this turn of events. After seeing someone as scheming as Suga, he would’ve thought that he was averse to fighting, but then, turning back to the sparring omegas, he realised that – oh, fuck, he was hot, and fuck did he look murderous.

Suga was going for Hinata’s neck, every time and Hinata reacted on instinct – already on the back foot in this fight, defending himself, by deftly manoeuvring away. His feet were light and he floated on air as he spun out and landed a hit to Suga’s right shoulder – without mercy.

“You lil’ cunt.” His boss swore, not entirely unkindly. The stance he was holding shifted, as he brought his left hand to hold the throbbing section of his right shoulder, where tingles of pains were shooting up and down his shoulder blade. He dropped his weight slightly, bending his knees, going from attacking to defending in a smooth movement. Folding his body, so as to angle his vulnerable shoulder away from the attacking orange blur. The scent of sweat that hung heavy in the air shifted as he began to release a warning to other people – back off, don’t interfere. His irises threatened to shift colours – there was a reason why he rarely sparred, his scent threatening to overpower everyone. Instead, he took a deep breath, fixing his eyes on Hinata’s prowling, watchful movements and dodged his next blow.

It was sharp. Hinata knew his punches were sharp, and even if they weren’t heavy like Ennoshita’s, or Oikawa’s, he was fast, and his speed helped him. His legs, like Oikawa’s with him, were one of his most dangerous weapons, keeping him light on his feet and fast, fast, fast. Suga blocked the next hit, grunting with effort but throwing him off, catching Hinata’s arm and flipping him. But the omega was smart and observant and curled his toes and relaxed his torso and as he was flipping he curled all the way around so his feet hit the floor and then –

“Ogling our boys are we now, men?” Oikawa’s singsong voice reminded the alphas where they were, and slowly – in trancelike movements – they started to shuffled over the targets. Though none of them, save for Iwaizumi whose eyes were fixated on Oikawa’s confident straightened form – wishing he would release his scent again so he could carve the smell into his memory, none of them tore their eyes from the fight. The one that was more intense than the one they had walked in one.

Oikawa had already made his way over to the knife throwing range, and this time he let Ennoshita take the lead. His eyes watched the group carefully then turned to look to his boss and his long-time friends fight it out. Someone approached his side, he felt it in the prickling of hair along his left arm.

“Excuse me, Raven, is it?” It was the guy whose face he kicked. The one who had been working out quite a bit by the looks of it. Unconsciously Oikawa leaned in, sort of liking the smell of musk that clung to the man’s clothes, even if he was consciously supressing his scent. The omega righted it by peering at the man through long eye lashes and leaning forward more obviously, too overtly, “Can I help you, Officer?”

Iwa was uncomfortable, on edge from the coppery tang of blood in the air, as the two omega’s battled it out. They were at each other’s throats, both looking deadly read to kill.

“Raven.” The silver haired man growled in the ring, shoving him away. Anyone else may have stumbled, but the smaller man didn’t, Iwa noticing the subtle way that he shifted his weight before the silver haired man came into contact with him, minimising the transfer of energy, “That’s enough.”

Blood was dripping down Hinata’s arm and slowly the lust for Suga’s blood drained from his eyes, as his own dripped into them, flowing sluggishly from a cut in his forehead from here he’d ducked a swing, nicking the edge of the blade, “I haven’t conceded yet S-Crow-san.”

“We’ll call it your win then, I concede,” Suga put his hands up in mock submission and then leaned in and wiped the blood from Hinata’s forehead, running it across his cheeks and lips until his entire face was painted in the powerful colour. Hinata’s chest heaved slightly, and he looked up at Suga, eyes now standing out – honeyed tones of light chestnut brown alive with energy and adrenalin. Pulling the younger man closer he made it to look as if he was helping him out of the ring, his true intentions revealed in the quiet whisper he sent Hinata, “My shoulder’s throbbing from the tat, can I trust you to run your sister and Blue jay-kun through the light training?”

Hinata nodded briskly, skin prickling a bit at the warm stare from Suga and the cold one that he knew originated from ocean eyes across the room. He turned to where the alphas were, seeing Ennoshita casually toss a knife with a cigarette in his mouth, then turn to discuss with a bald-headed alpha that looked more of a delinquent then an officer. He caught Oikawa’s stare, and the buff man beside him, eyes dark. Putting two and two and Oikawa’s smirk together, Hinata knew they’d have a lot to talk over once this training session was complete. And then letting his eyes wander, he caught the tall black-haired alpha’s stare, the one with ocean blue eyes, the one holding a throwing knife lightly in his hand. Huffing at the disconcerting gaze, Hinata decided to pointedly ignore it than jump the barbed wire, walking over to where his sister and the new recruit, Nishinoya now Blue-jay were.

Kageyama couldn’t help but stare at the way sweat and blood dripped down his hairline, and couldn’t help but try to get a whiff of the scent he’d been trying to smell again, ever since the night of the raid. The eyes surrounded by a mask of blood, threatened to swallow him whole, and in that moment where their gazes met, he realised, that he wished he knew the man’s name, he realised that he knew part of it. Sho... something.

A few feet away from Kageyama’s musings, Oikawa and Iwaizumi stood in silence, watching the going-on’s of the now empty boxing ring.

“Um..” Iwaizumi had forgotten to answer the question Oikawa had asked him, distracted by the end of the fight, but now he remembered. Slightly embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head, “I was wondering if you could give a demonstration on knife throwing.”

The alpha was curious about this omega’s capability, how much of his confidence was true confidence?

“That is of course, if you don’t think you’re too good to throw a knife.”

“Oh, please,” Oikawa turned to the alpha, unable to not look at the bulge of muscle through a tight shirt, “You’d think as part of the police, you’d be better at being manipulative.”

“As if you’re not.” He bit back without thinking.

“It’s a skill much needed in this business of ours.” Another jab, but…

That was interesting to Iwaizumi, the word business. Did they view the gang as a business? Were they hiding something from them? He looked around at the sweaty training men and sighed, it wouldn’t hurt to store this piece of information away. It was the morally upright officer in him that wanted to use the omega’s words against him.

“So, you’re saying you will then?”

Oikawa didn’t respond. Spinning on his heel he approached the table where the knives were and then the box that Ennoshita had told the alpha’s specifically not to touch. It looked somewhat out of place in the large roughened edges of the warehouse, slim, sleek and professional. It wasn’t so much of a box as a small briefcase, and as he walked over to it Oikawa couldn’t help but leak a little bit of his scent in contentment. Feeling the hard case on his skin, he clicked open the locks, and lifted the lid. As opposed to the dark, slightly rusty blades the alphas were using to practice with, his own collection was silver.

12 bright silvery blades. Just for him.

 He sighed as he ran his fingers over them, picking six, letting his mouth turn upwards into a smile. Not a genuine happy smile, noted Iwa from where stood, watching the omega’s facial expressions, but one that someone kept for a loved one. He could only guess what sort of shit they’d been through together.

“Jay, Officers,” His voice lost its flirty notation, dropping to hum in authority. Clasping three knives in each hand, Oikawa commanded their attention. From across the warehouse, even Suga stopped to watch, “Stand back.”

They did immediately. If not for the authority the omega – how could an omega call for such submission? – then it was for the glinting, dangerously sharp knives in hand.

Oikawa stood seven metres away from the targets, nearly double the distance from where the officers had been standing. A pitiful amount of dark blades littered the floor, though the only target that had been filled with three was the one that had been designated to the alpha who had talked with him. It piqued his curiosity – it would normally take longer for someone of that officers calibre to achieve that accuracy. He hummed gently to himself, adjusting his grip on the knives.

Lifted an arm. Held it above his head. Taut muscles where they needed to be taut, loose where they needed to be loose. He didn’t have to remind himself of the processes, already imbedded into his mind. He took a deep breath. In. Out.

And swung.

And swung.

No reload, no catch or hitching in his movements. Fluid. Handle over tip and embedding into the target – dead on.

And swung.

And swung.

Silver catching light and muscle rippling with ease. Familiar weight leaving his hands and then shifting his grip and –

Swung.

And swung.

It took three seconds in total. They weren’t consistent around the middle, but the alphas were too shocked at the speed and the ease and the way Oikawa’s glittered with fun, instead of mischievousness. The hilts shone from where they sat, buried in the target.

From across the warehouse floor, Hinata whistled. The two other omega’s he’d been tasked to instruct where completing a running exercise and the orange-haired man had started to wander over languidly to watch. Oikawa’s facial expression shifted into one something quite unreadable and he grabbed a knife from the floor and threw it across the warehouse. And the alpha’s heads whipped around to see Hinata’s hand reach out and pluck it, pluck it, from the air as if he were catching an apple not a knife. A growl of shock died in every alpha’s throat, a little “Ah–“ squeezing its way from Asahi’s.

“Nice throw Raven. Too bad you’re still not up to speed.” Hinata taunted.

“Tell that to your scars,” Oikawa bit back then eased into a chuckle, “Besides you still have nothing on my technique.  

Hinata bristled, but he laughed and the laughter echoed. And the alphas turned back to the targets to restart their practice – many of them with renewed vigour. Kyoutani was not about to let himself get bested by a goddamn rut-house whore. Tanaka would not let himself get bested by an omega, though he was preoccupied with the cigarette smoking one right beside him, instructing Asahi gently. Maybe there was one omega he’d let himself get bested by. Asahi was seriously regretting the fact that he came, and Kageyama’s eyes were still stuck on the orange mop of hair, nose still twitching in attempt to catch that sickening yet alluring scent, one that he only knew the acridity of, but was tempted by all the same. Daichi also felt a flame of competition in his gut, and he became the second person to triumph the target, Ennoshita allowing him to move back a metre.

Oikawa retrieved his knives and started polishing them, giving them the same amount of care and attention that Tadashi gave his sniper rifle.

“Tell me not to get on your bad side.” Iwaizumi had gone back to standing beside him, observing his movements.

“If you do, I’ll just..” Oikawa stopped, paused, and looked up through half-lidded eyes, “..have to punish you. I guess.”

He laughed at the blush that grew on Iwaizumi’s face, “You’re too easy, Officer.”

Iwaizumi decided that he liked the laughing version of the omega much more than the ‘about to kill you’ version. Though, he couldn’t deny the unbelievable attractiveness of him, even if it meant direct violation of societal rules surrounding omegas. But, in his opinion, even his professional opinion – where he had to enforce the laws, in his opinion the societal rules surrounding omegas were a bit fucked up. He looked down at the omega cleaning his knives, “If I’m easy, are you… hard?”

“Was that a sexual innuendo I just heard, Mr. Police Officer sir?”

Iwa was only granted a small chuckle, but he liked it nonetheless. A blush creeped up his face, and he was glad for the sounds of metal striking wood and the moderate to heavy panting from the alphas behind them. At least he knew they weren’t observing this embarrassment of a conversation. He tapped the table, “Maybe.”

He picked up a knife and pointed it at Oikawa’s chest, getting close enough so that the tip pierced his shirt but didn’t rip it. Close enough so that the omega was forced to breath shallowly.

“Can you teach me how to throw knives like that?” Direct and blunt, dropping the flirtatious comments. Iwaizumi didn’t care for the secondary genders now; he knew skill when he saw it. And he wanted to get stronger. For a few more reasons than his occupation gave him.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes then smirked and nodded, “Only if you can handle some intense training.”

At the sight of the darkening blush creeping along Iwaizumi’s face, Oikawa laughed again, then watched as the dark-haired alphas stoic façade crumble slightly, lips twitching. The alpha licked them, and Oikawa was quite sure that he was unaware of the effect it had on him. Already his inner omega was stirring, asking him questions, giving him images he didn’t want to have in mind. How long had he last taken his suppressants? A dull ache began to pound in his abdomen – too long, perhaps.

He shook it off and gestured for the alpha to follow him.

Across the warehouse Suga had finished putting up the targets, but Tadashi was nowhere to be found. That is until he felt a crackling in his ear and a small voice saying, “Crow-san, we have a problem.”

A new line of static joined in, “I’ve located a shipment that’s not ours coming into the harbour.”

Suga didn’t care about revealing that they had ear-pieces, that they had a secret tech informant. Instead, his hand flew to his ear and he tapped his mic on. Hot fear and trepidation creeped up his neck and his body flushed in heat. The scent of honeysuckle and linen around his sharpened the air, “Details please Rook. If you check, we’re a bit… occupied.”

“I wouldn’t contact you if I could handle this Suga. The situation’s desperate. And you know I don’t say that lightly.”

Shit.

“Import, export?”

“Import, I’m working on it’s contents now, but by it’s haste – it’s something valuable to someone.”

His conversation seemingly by himself had caught the attention of Hinata, Natsu and Nishinoya. Hinata’s eyes flew wide and he turned to his sisters, instinctively pulling her close.

“’Tsu,” They were close enough together and far away enough from the other group to not be overheard, “I need you to take Blue-jay-kun back to the Hospital and start preparing supplies and the cars. I think we’ll be relying on you to look after the omegas in there for a while.”

His eyes flicked to his friends, and saw the way his already pale skin had lightened even further. How his eyebrows stitched together, “It looks urgent.”

Natsu nodded curtly and whisked Noya away, the young man confused but willing to help. He was after all, flexible like that. He wanted to help and Hinata had outlined how they’d be doing that. Noya was seeing how much of a team, of a family this was and his heart warmed to be included.

The orange-haired man stood as they left and put his hand to his ear, cluing in on the conversation. Glancing around at his surroundings, he approached Suga and as the man nodded with a faraway look in his eyes softly turned his body away from prying eyes.

“Magpie-kun where are you?”

“I’m at the desks in the House. I’m putting the officers into our system. I figured I might, that way Rook can run background checks on them before this raid.”

“Good job Magpie. Rook do you have any more information yet?”

The was a clicking from the other end and the sound of a printer. Hinata and Suga sent each other worried looks, and waited for the response.

“Good news, it doesn’t look like omegas. But…” Kenma hesitated and it was then that the two knew something was horribly wrong, that it was going to be a dangerous raid, “… it’s not. Ah fuck. It’s weapons. I can’t tell what kind.”

“Send us the details on when the shipment will enter and any relevant information. If it’s connected the West we’ll have to include these fuckwit alphas, but if it’s just Central we’ll either handle it or leave it be.”

Ennoshita and Oikawa weren’t idiots. They were omegas, and highly attuned to changes in scent, particularly that of their boss. Oikawa especially had become sensitive to Suga’s scent, in order to detect the oncoming’s of an attack, as the episode in the car yesterday had been. The omega had a good handle on his scent, but for some reason the scent he held seemed far superior than all others – more potent, more forthcoming, more dangerous. And so as the faint tingle of honeysuckle sharpened and the clean scent of fresh linen deepened, they immediately lifted their noses simultaneously and spun to face the direction of their boss. Which didn’t help the need for privacy that Suga and Hinata had needed.

Iwaizumi, who was getting help from Oikawa immediately noticed the loss in concentration of the other, whose shoulders tensed and demeaning comments faltered in favour for a pensive silence. Tanaka and Asahi, who seemed to need the most help from Ennoshita – Asahi because he was actually shit and Tanaka because he thought the omega he stared at was the literal shit – fucking attractive, also noticed the sudden loss of focus in the omega, composure nearly slipping completely.

Ennoshita stepped back, face pale as he realised there must be something big going on. Watching as Natsu and Noya scuttled from the warehouse with tight determination, watching as Hinata lifted an arm to lightly touch Suga’s shoulder.

“Continue on with the exercise,” He fought not to let fear creep into his voice, staring down at the alphas with all the authority he could muster in front of their wary faces and warier scents, mind obviously elsewhere. Ennoshita didn’t even give a reason as he hurried over to the side where Oikawa were standing.

“Raven.”

“I know.” Oikawa had seen the way Hinata had lightly touched Suga, recognising the sign from afar. This was big. This meant turf wars and shipments – dangers in the form of injury, in the form of death, in the form of challenging everything they held dear. His face was pinched tight, all flirtatious behaviour forgotten – even as his alphan officer stared at them, “Have you…?”

He motioned somewhat helplessly to his ear and Ennoshita shook his head.

“I…” Ennoshita stopped, glancing then glaring at Iwaizumi. He bowed politely to the officer, “Sorry sir, I’m going to have to steal Raven-san here from you.”

“Uh… sure.” Iwaizumi didn’t know what was going on, but in the stirring of his gut he felt as if he should continue listening. Something had shaken these omegas who had shown them time and time again they could not be shaken. It must have been something momentous. Maybe he could get a clue on the case, or better yet, who these omegas actually were.

Oikawa and Ennoshita walked off to Suga and Hinata, ignoring the way the alphas stared at their backs. They broke into a run when they saw Hinata throw a worried glance over their shoulder and the way Suga’s shoulders were shaking. It was only when they got there they realised Suga was laughing.

“What…?” Ennoshita’s question died in the air as the Crow straightened and turned to look at them.

“Some small West side gang wants to start a turf war.” He wiped at his eyes, “They have the fucking audacity to mess with us. After they had the gall to take Natsu. Shit, that’s the dumbest idea anyone’s ever had. Guys, we’re officially starting the war.”

“Crow-san does that mean..” Oikawa exchanged a look with Hinata, licking his lips.

“Corvids, time to use these pretty little soldiers. Time to fucking kick some West-side ass.”

“What are we doing now?” Daichi’s low rumble followed Suga’s territorial growl, as the alpha finished his approach. The rest of his unit were following quickly in his footsteps.

“It’s time for us to uphold our end of the deal. We’re getting information. Tonight. But for us to get that information, we need your arms and legs to help us “enforce” the law.”

“Shouldn’t we be in our uniforms then?” The alpha phrased this as if it were meant to throw the omega off his rhythm, challenging him, but Suga stood his ground against Daichi. He knew what the Captain’s intentions were – he knew that the alpha didn’t like being bossed around, knew that he was able to carve conversations to his will. But Suga had been around slippery-tongued liars his whole life, forever challenging him and undermining him, and by god, he’d be damned if he let the alpha best him in this odd form of combat.

“Sorry,” He smiled sweetly, allowing his scent to sharpen even further – contrasting his sugary tone, “I meant our law. You don’t need your official gear – it’d be troubling if someone saw you police officers... breaking the very law you’re meant to keep.”

“What do you mean?” The bunned alpha, who Suga had noted as a strong contender in combat even if he was timid as fuck, asked apprehensively.

The Crow, allowed his lip to curl, and beside him Hinata bristled then noticing Suga’s quietness stepped up to speak. An invitation to speak.

“He means, to get the information about the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate that you so desparately want,” He started, feeling an odd sense of excitement settling in his gut, “You’re going to have to work with us.”

A few went to speak, but Oikawa beat them to it, raising his eyebrows in disapproval.

“Yes, you dense motherfuckers, work with us. Together.”

Chapter Text

Tadashi closed the browser he’d been using, exiting off the tabs and listening to the quiet hums of the printer. Somewhat awkwardly he rose from his seat and crossed the room, stopping at the wall. A map – constantly changing was graffitied and pasted and arts and craft-ed to the wall. The docks were eye-level and outlined in red, and he ran his hand lightly over them, lifting a pin in his other to stick the information to the wall. On the scrap of paper he held, only a few scarce words were written on it – “Snakes – weapons, import, lethal”, short and to the point. It joined a wad of other papers on the wall, dated today, the time to be updated. Tadashi sighed and lifted his hand to his ear piece, “It’s done Rook-san. Have the background checks been run?”

“I’m a bit preoccupied by the raid, Magpie,” There was a little bite to his tone, and Tadashi flinched slightly. He forced himself to a calm immediately, knowing there was no way Kenma could hurt him – he was part of their family, even if they had never seen his face, “So I should have them by tomorrow.”

There was a little bit of static as Tadashi shifted away from the wall.

 “All good Rook-san.” Anxious to smooth over the tension in the other man’s voice.

“Sorry, Magpie, things have been rough in my…” There was a pause, and in the words, he spoke next Tadashi could hear the quiet smirk, “normal life. If anyone finds out about this, I’m dead – and not in the way you would be. I have to keep up the pretence with gaming, but…”

He clicked his tongue and the mouse in front of him, and huffed. Tadashi wished he could’ve been in the room with Kenma because at least then, he could fulfill his omegan desires to calm the other man, instead of having to listen to the frustration and distress in his voice. Instead the green-haired omega let out a hum of understanding, even if he had never gamed once in his life.

“… people are becoming suspicious. They’re taking away a bit of my availability at night.”

“Understandable Rook.” Tadashi dropped the honorifics in favour for a quiet lilt of peace, or acceptance.

“They’ll find out over my dead body though. I’ll do my bit for the Corvids, I’ll see this through – I swear to god.” The anger and determination in Kenma’s voice took Tadashi back. Normally the other man was well-mannered, even sounding a bit apathetic – but this display of loyalty didn’t shock him, merely took him by surprise. And spurred his own loyalty and determination on.

“Put that in a book of quotes so your wise words can be remembered for centuries.” Sharpening his tongue, but laughing all the same, “I don’t doubt you Rook. Now tell me, is there any need for a sniper this raid?”

It was rhetorical. They’d raided the docks enough times to know the sniper was often crucial to success, especially as the gangs in the area slowly got used to ambushing each other, as the gang’s recognition of them grew.

“Yes.” And he was back to his curt answers, and Tadashi could hear fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Right, thank you Rook.” About to tap out, Tadashi remembered something and his hand faltered, “Also, um, that police officer I shot the other day – is he…?”

“Alive, recovering after surgery, seeing as your shots were expertly fired –“ Tadashi preened at the compliment, smiling as no one was around to see his blush, “– recovery time should be around a week for functioning, three weeks completely for the hand. For your calf shot, there was muscle damage so they had to undertake vein drafts, for function it should be around a week again, full recovery a month. He’ll be able to participate in raids once this week is up, provided it’s purely from a sniper viewpoint.”

Tadashi breathed a sigh of relief. Suga would like that – another sniper on the field. And he was just thankful that the officer had made it out of there. While he had no qualms killing, there still was a lingering nausea that came at night to eat him up – a sign of his lingering humanity, lingering fears. The officers would survive. That was good news.

• ••

Hinata glared at the silver-haired man. His eyes bore into the others, dark and dangerous. The room was alive with electricity. Everyone present were rivetted to where they stood. No one dared breathe. Or bat an eyelid. The alphan officers were all there as well, waiting for Ennoshita and Oikawa – or as they knew them, Jay and Raven, to return with the gear they needed. The only members of the Corvids present, were these two, looking like they were about to go for each other’s throats. Their scents were barely concealed under buckets of self-restraint, teeth gritted, eyes wide and dark. A standstill.

“Boss, you can’t go.” Hinata finally cried, hands raised in exasperation.

What? Daichi couldn’t believe his ears, what did the omega mean, that his boss couldn’t go. Painful memories of Iwaizumi locking him out of the office swam to the front of his mind and he grimaced slightly. But the man was also intrigued – after all, wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to gather some information about the leader of the Corvids?

Suga’s eyes flicked to their onlookers, then back to Hinata. Everything in him just wanted to groan and flop and tell Hinata that fuck yes, my tattoo hurts like a bitch and I shouldn’t go, but that also he needed to go, because this was dangerous and it meant the gangs in the area were preparing for something that they weren’t aware about. But he couldn’t show weakness in front of these men. He’d learnt – from first-hand experience, that showing weakness in front of alphas would cause the weakness to be used against him, to control him. He had to remain in control. He didn’t want to put his family in harm. Didn’t want to doom the omegas that had nowhere else to turn to. The reason the East Side was so peaceful was because of the Corvids. Nearly 70% of the omegas in the area had come into contact with them at one point in time, a near quarter of that 70% being saved directly from a raid. Suga couldn’t afford to be cornered, couldn’t afford to show a weakness that could put him out of work.

“I have to, Raven.” A carefully measured hiss, tone cold, “And you know that. So, drop the subject, before we have a repeat of what happened yesterday.”

Hinata’s eyes grew wide, and the alphas couldn’t help but wonder what happened yesterday. Yes, their police station had been overtaken by the Corvids – but what happened after that? It must have been something bad, some inner tension within their group that had fractured Raven and Crow’s relationship. The alphas didn’t know how wrong their conjecture was until Hinata opened his mouth to continue talking.

“Bullshit Crow. You’re fucking injured, you don’t want to damage your back anymore.”

Suga couldn’t help but let an exasperated sound come out of his mouth then smothered it with cold words in quick succession, “Who gives a shit? It’s just a tattoo for fucks sake. You’ve already hit it – and no one we will fight with will know.”

“What if you damage it? What if it bleeds and leaks?”

“It’s been over twenty-four hours, there’s such a low chance of that. Besides I won’t get hit.”

“Crow.”  Hinata chided, shaking his head, “Fucking hell. We’re not low on people anymore. Take some time.”

Suga glared at him, changing his stance from defensive to repulsed. He grimaced, “You’re an idiot if you think I’ll listen to that. That’s the worst thing I’ve heard after Raven telling a dead man to sleep it off.”

Hinata wanted to laugh, but he knew it was just Suga’s attempt to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic they had started on, “You’re not changing my mind. You need to stay out of all fieldwork until I can hit you there without you grimacing.”

“I’m already stuck at the desks long enough doing stock-takes and financing and planning you little dipshit.”

The conversation was very different to what Daichi had been expecting, to what all the alphas had been expecting. Now it just seemed like they were listening to two long-time friends squabble, except these two friends had glints in their eyes that suggested it could very well turn into a laughing fest, or a fist-fight.

The alphas were also getting interesting information from it, Daichi learning that they did do ‘stock-takes’ and ‘financing’ and called their raids ‘fieldwork’ as if there was more to the aforementioned work. Iwaizumi, who had been the only officer to listen to Oikawa’s comment about it being a ‘business’ earlier on, was starting to get a sneaking feeling in his stomach. They obviously weren’t your average gang, it was obvious that this was their entire life, and he doubted that many of the omegas had jobs. Was that why they needed to ‘finance’? What were they doing stock takes on, what were they dealing? Drugs, weapons… people? The more information the alphas got, the more confused they became, the more questions they felt the need to ask. But before Tanaka could open his mouth, before Daichi could think to form a question on his tongue, someone cleared their throat behind them.

“Ignore them, Officers.” Airy tones that could only belong to Oikawa, who smirked and chuckled, and managed to look menacing all the same. They turned to see him and Ennoshita bringing in three big black boxes, neither of them breaking a sweat. As soon as Ennoshita set the last box down, he moved out of the way, making his way to Hinata and Suga – knowing exactly what this fight was about.

“Clothes in these two, shirts, pants, hoodies, face masks. All black.” Oikawa gestured lazily to the two boxes he’d placed down on his left, then to the one on his right, “Weapons. There’s not many in there –“

He paused and a few of the alpha’s expected him to say something along the lines of, ‘So you’ll have to make do’ but instead he smirked and licked his lips.

“– so, if we run out of one type or whatever, or your preferred weapon isn’t there, just tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.”

Go where? Iwaizumi wondered, but he had no time to think about it, already moving forward to open the clasps on one of the boxes. The lid fell open and he began to rummage. This broke the stupor in the other alphas as they also surged forwards, remembering their mouths as they broke out in loud conversation. Conversation that wouldn’t dare include their innermost musings regarding the Corvids, instead turning to lighter topics of weapons and sizes of clothing. Oikawa watched on, amused, then lifted his gaze to watch his fighting friends.

It was always like this.

They were such hypocrites. Suga wouldn’t dare force any of them to go out raiding if one of them was injured, even if it meant putting himself in more danger – but would also go out if he had a gunshot wound in his left arm, which had happened one raid. And Hinata would go feral if someone tried to stop him from participating in a raid because, as he argued, where would they be if it wasn’t for their teamwork? One person can’t raid alone, he’d say with puffed out cheeks, one person can’t be left behind. Though at the same time, even if it was something as small as Suga’s new tattoo, he’d insist that the man stay behind. Oikawa guessed it was the maternal instinct that they harboured – at least with Suga it was. Ever since that incident, regarding the scar that snaked up Hinata’s stomach, not even Suga was sure about what was going on with Hinata’s instincts and hormones. The only line they could conclusively draw in the sand was that the orange-haired omega was protective – if to a fault.

He sighed and grabbed his knives from the table, they could fight it out. He knew Ennoshita would smooth it over. After all, he was the only one who had real experience in customer service that involved angry customers – he could keep them in check.

Ennoshita knew what the fight was about, before even hearing about it. No longer the newest member, but still fresh – he’d grown scarily used to their mannerisms.

“Raven-san, Crow-san.” He interrupted their pointless bickering, “Is this about the tattoo?”

Hinata threw out an angry ‘Yes’ glaring at Suga, “He can’t go out! How is he meant to fight if his shooting arm is out of commission? He even conceded after five minutes of sparring today.”

Ennoshita grimaced and turned his gaze to Suga, “Is that true?”

The omega rolled his eyes, “Yes. But I still need to go out. The alphas need to be monitored, and if there’s no clear leader then we may have more of a problem then a failed raid.”

Suga leaned in closer to hiss, “If any of the higher ups are there, information may be slipped before its time.”

They looked over their shoulders to watching the loud group of alphas now deliberating over weapons and checking their guns and knives and the like. Distracted, good. Suga pulled Ennoshita and Hinata even closer, still not trusting that the alphas weren’t listening in. They were quite a few metres away, and the noise from the alphas was intense, so after a moment of deliberation, Suga thought it safe to talk.

“They want information about the OTCS, but we have to filter it. If any of our information gets out.” He faltered and then just decided to give them both pointed looks. They nodded, understanding.

“Still though, Boss.” Ennoshita straightened and looked him in the eye, “As your tattooist, I forbid you to be on the frontlines.”

“I wouldn’t be on it, even if I want to. I just want to interrogate the leader of whoever shows up tonight. I trust you can hold back enough Raven?” Suga slid his eyes over to Hinata, who was also looking him dead in the eye. There was no longer any defiance there, just an excited apprehension for what was to come. The young man fidgeted and nodded, “’Course.”

“Good.”

Pleased with the outcome, the outcome that he had initially wanted, Suga snapped into action-mama mode. It was time to prepare himself and his men. They needed to be fast and efficient.

“Jay-kun monitor these men. Ravens,” He lifted his voice to include Oikawa in his instructions. The man’s head snapped up, quaffed hair floating, lagging a little bit behind, “prepare for a docks raid. We don’t know what cargo we’re dealing with exactly, so prepare for anything.”

“Briefcases Boss?” Oikawa’s volume raised only a few decibels higher than the alphas.

“Take your pick Ravens. Standard, but embellishments as well.”

Hinata nodded, understanding. From the few odd glances, he got from the alphas that dared to listen in, he knew they had no idea what they were talking about. It was jargon, slang, short-hand instructions that they’d built over the years. Standard meant they wore the normal gear, the knives strapped to their ankles, guns in the holsters around their hips, knives tucked into sheathes beside the guns. For Hinata it meant a sturdy wire gun, to help his speed and nimbleness in tight spaces, to help him to jump higher – give him the wings that he needed to fly. For Oikawa it meant extra knives, strapped all around his body, increasingly small, intricately carved and cared for. The two Ravens left the room to prepare.

Ennoshita watched as Suga also slipped away, no doubt to check on the new recruit and Natsu. No doubt to join up with Tadashi and fill him in. Suga was a good leader, checking in with everyone, encouraging yet strict at the same time, and as he watched the alphas, he could tell that their captain was also fit for his job. Though the Captain seemed a bit more steady on his feet than Suga, alphan instincts predisposed for fighting, rather than the omega’s natural response to flight. Which made their alternate names even more fitting. Because unlike the impulsive alphas, Suga put thought into everything, gentle yet firm with everything he got his hands upon. It made him a good friend and a lethal enemy.

And as Ennoshita monitored them, he readied his own gear that he had brought with him. It was in a smaller box than the clothes and the weapons, as his needed to be compact in order to fit on his body – mobility was essential on the ground.

A gun in one holster, two cans of black spray paint clipped to the other side of the utility belt now sitting squat on his hips as he pulled it taut. His customary knife a comfortable weight on his left ankle, never to be revealed to anyone else – emergency use only. Then, there were only two things left in the box and he hesitated in grabbing them. These were his standards; the embellishments to come in the form of briefcases Tadashi would undoubtedly be packing at that very moment would only serve to further his dirty work. Two compact branding irons glistened in the matte black box, beckoning him to grab them.

If anyone noticed the hesitation – which as few did, Tanaka, Kyoutani and Asahi having set on their weapons and taken to observing the omega with curiosity and distrust, as opposed to Daichi, Iwaizumi and Kageyama, who were discussing the raid in quiet hushed tones – they didn’t mention it. Not until Ennoshita took a deep breath and grabbed them from the box. Not until he held them up to catch the light and attach them to his belt. No hoodie this time. He re-rolled his long sleeve dress shirt to show his arm tattoos and took a packet of cigarettes from his chest pocket. Trying to calm his nerves.

“What are those?” Tanaka broke the silence first, fulfilling his unofficial role of his unit – that to ask the hard questions. It broke the other men out of their conversation as well, Daichi turning around to survey the situation, Kageyama’s quick eyes latching onto the two metal rods hanging off his utility belt.

Ennoshita, even with his experience with alphan customers, couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with their glares. Not exactly hostile, but not entirely benign. His inner omega, suppressed by restraint, hormone controlling drugs, and a natural sort of resistance from growing up by alphan influences, began to whisper in his ear. Whisper all the hidden things that he wished for in the dead of night, once his nightmares stopped. He was always held in that sickening duality of feelings – the hate, but the never-ending biological want. He drew a lighter from the pocket of his dress pants and lifted it to light the cigarette now hanging loosely from his lips. Only narcotics could really quell both extremes of his thoughts.

The silence was met with silence and then Kageyama – one to say everything as it was, and nothing more, decided to spiral the silence into dangerous territory, “Are those branding irons?”

At the question, Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at the metal swinging on Ennoshita’s hips and felt his blood curdle when he realised, shit, they were. Kageyama’s stomach curled and Daichi’s head spun as the two remembered their survey of the crime scene, the warehouse two nights ago (even if it didn’t feel like two nights). They remembered the burnt, charred skin, on the crooks’ main scent gland – every time. Asahi visibly paled and Kyoutani turned his nose up in disgust. Tanaka, who had been guardedly curious now drew a blank. Though of course, even though his brain drew a blank, his mouth still continued to run but for the first time even he was shocked into silence.

The omega, however, had seen this question coming. He’d already reserved himself, waiting for the judgement and range of facial expressions he now saw before him. Painting his face in a mask of stone, regaining his composure he did what only he could do. He bristled, hackles raising, eyes pinning down each person they fell upon, attempting to play the alpha’s game of intimidation (he was the only person in the Corvids that would have been able to pass as an alpha comfortably, in scent, in demeanour, in gait and habits – a fact he hadn’t been proud of for quite some time), “So what if they are?”

“I.. uh.” Someone started then stopped immediately.

“It’s not right,” Snapped Tanaka, “You can’t just go around fucking branding people. It’s inhumane.”

“Then riddle me this.” Ennoshita countered, stern gaze resting on the baldy who had first recovered the ability to speak, “How are we supposed to warn others – permanently – that a predator is in the area? How are we supposed to warn fellow omegas that they’re in the presence of a person who has beaten and raped and sold the bodies of their friends and family? Not once, not twice, multiple times. Inhumane? Oh please, it’s mercy.”

A hair could’ve fallen in the room and they would’ve heard it. Every argument each individual alpha was preparing in their heads were immediately torn to shreds – and their reasons weren’t all the same. This omega looked rougher than the rest of them, but his words were eloquent and educated, even if they sat awkwardly on his tongue. Kyoutani, growling lowly in response, tilted his head, the questions setting him on edge for a different reason. The tone reminded him of someone he knew, and the more he stared, the more familiar the plain stony face became. That and his argument was solid.

Ennoshita knew that, and he closed the box with a snap that had Asahi jerking his head around so fast he probably got whiplash. Sighing, he took another drag on his cigarette, “You alphas wouldn’t understand. It’s not like young omegas have the freedom, safety or time to go to you police officers and log every single time they’ve been sexually harassed.”

“Especially when the laws you guys enforce often cause those situations.” He saw all of them bristle, so he shrugged, “I’m not saying it’s anything against you guys personally. It’s just a fact.”

As if that was meant to smooth things over.

Daichi as the captain felt obliged to act, more in the way of finding out more information than protecting his pride. After eight long years of work, he wanted to milk all the information he could out of the Corvid gang – because his gut was telling him that they were hiding a plethora of secrets, and his gut was never wrong, “And people recognise these brands?”

“Isn’t it ineffective?” Kageyama asked shortly, beating his superior to the point. Daichi couldn’t argue though, Kageyama’s deductive skills were superb. 

“In the beginning it was ineffective, but word travels fast in the underground, and it leaks quickly.” Ennoshita sent them a chilling smile that was completely uncharacteristic of him, but shut them up, as he’d hoped.

A sound from outside had his ears pricked and him turning quickly to see Hinata scurrying in. His saviour from this soul-devouring conversation. The other omega didn’t even so much as glance at the group as he ran over to Ennoshita. Starting to speak as he ran, interrupting the murmurs of dissent within the officers, Ennoshita couldn’t have been more grateful to escape the awkward tension, “Jay-kun, Boss needs you to set up a lifeline before we go. I’ll take the unit –“

Funny, how easily the word rolls of his tongue, Daichi, Iwaizumi and Kageyama held the same thought, minds shifting easily to adjust to the new situation. They were, after all, still police officers, trained to adapt to the most unbecoming, unlikely scenarios.

“– to the cars. Rook-san has new information regarding the docks. We’re going to stake it out first, run them through the ropes. It’ll be better with a demo.”

His words rushed out a mile a minute, but sharp ears caught all of them. Ennoshita reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, calming him through touch. All the omegas knew how on edge Hinata could get before a raid – as deep as the man’s nearly disturbing bloodlust ran, he also had a deep responsibility on his shoulder, that of his sister’s life. God only knows how much her life would twist if he was to die, get injured, or worse fall to the clutches of a rival alphan gang. It was the best Ennoshita could do to calm him by touch, given as he was forcibly suppressing his scent.

“Got it Raven. Tell Crow-san I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

And with that, all dressed up and ready for the kill, Ennoshita ran from the room. Hinata watched him go, and then turned with a bright smile to the group, shoulder tingling from the abrupt change in pressure and from the lingering pheromones Ennoshita had forced upon him. The tension that had been ever-present in the previous interaction was lost immediately.

It like a breath of fresh air, Hinata’s genuine smile. Though, it shocked them, having been scrutinized and challenged for the entirety of the day. All of a sudden, the energy that had been sucked out of them was being shoved back, back by the bright ball of energy, and nerves.

Kageyama watched this carefully, and caught Daichi’s eye out of the corner of his own. There was the faintest smell of ginger and sunflower wafting from this man, and only they were the ones to know about it, not having had the time to confirm the scene and situation with their colleagues. For though everyone had access to the photos the forensic team had dutifully supplied, the two doubted anyone else would pin the horrific crime of literally cutting someone’s tongue off while they were still alive on this literal ball of sunshine that swelled to fill the space in front of them. Kageyama could not help but catch the ways his façade cracked every now and then, eyes darkening for a millisecond, or eyebrows pinching slightly for nothing more than a blink before they returned to an uplifting position. He wondered what had compelled the omega to commit such an act of violence, and he wondered if any of it was premeditated. Because if it was – Kageyama shuddered visibly where he stood – well, the alphas were well and truly fucked.

• ••

They had three vehicles; a car, two vans. Suga watched as everyone gathered in front of the gym, the alphas squeezing through the bottleneck of the door, Hinata leading them grinning like an idiot. Except as soon as the alphas gaze left the orange-haired man his smile dropped and his face became impassive. Suga shook his head in amusement, “Raven-kun, you’ll be going in the car with your counterpart.”

“What about you?” Hinata tilted his head, fastening his pace to take his place by his boss’s side.

“I’ll be manning the cargo van alone; Magpie will take the other one until he picks up Jay from the contact point.” He lifted a hand to his ear and tapped on it, bringing Hinata’s focus to it, “Rook is analysing the footage we captured today, so we’ll split them up accordingly.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who ‘them’ referred to.

The alphas quickly gathered in front of the two chatting omegas. Daichi, as usual, felt the need to address this. He at least felt that they’d been left in the dark for two long. It didn’t feel so much as a deal of two equal parties, then that of expendable workers under the thumb of some business tycoon. He cleared his throat.

It grabbed their attention quickly. Suga, as usual (as well), took it upon himself to address the unit, feeling the need to appease their questions.

“Crow, may I ask what the conditions of this raid will be? Our usefulness is limited if we have no knowledge of what’s going on.” Straight, to the point, another fucking challenge.

“That will be explained in due time, at the rendezvous point our informant has chosen for us. In short, a small gang of the West side, who is allied with the Syndicate, has a ship that is going to dock tonight.”

“Are there omegas on board? Does this have any link to trafficking?” Daichi’s question spilled from his lips before he could stop it, eager to hear news that had been so elusive to the them for so long. Often, by the time any information reached the police’s ears it was often weeks or months too late for intervention or change.

“It’s not people, it’s weapons.” Suga shook his head, fending off rising questions with ease, “Which is concerning, because it means the West Side gangs are preparing for something that we aren’t aware of. Our informant hasn’t managed to pinpoint the exact nature of the weapons yet, so we have to be prepared for anything.”

Hinata nodded, flipping a knife absentmindedly in his hands, unaware of the exact effect it had on Kageyama – who was watching with increasing concern, “We don’t know if it’s explicitly linked to the Syndicate, but having extra hands-on-deck means fewer causalities on our side, and a higher possibility for un… let’s say… untainted information.”

Gritted teeth. They were being played. The benefits for the Corvids far outweighed the benefits for themselves, but… it wasn’t as if they could refuse any offer, or order. They were overpowered in every way, the gang’s power clearly demonstrated in the overt storming of the station. Daichi could only watch with resentment and a slight bit of awe, at the man who twisted his words as if they were nothing but putty. How much of a strategist was this Crow, what sort of background did he have to make him this cunning?

“So how are we being split Boss?” Oikawa leaned naturally on Hinata’s shoulder, ignoring the hisses of disapproval coming from the smaller. He looked exceptionally different to earlier, in the same base outfit but now fitted with tactical knife harnesses, multiple. From what Iwaizumi could see of his front, three knives settled contently, matte black handles blending well with his shirt. There was no doubt in his mind that the Raven was concealing more blades. All of a sudden the standard gun and knives he chose, that he had been satisfied with, felt a bit subpar.

“You Ravens are travelling together. You have your choice of two officers –“

“Wait aren’t you going to split us?” Asahi ventured, confused.

Suga arched an eyebrow, face unreadable, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Well I just –“

“Please don’t waste time here Officer.” A small voice chided gently. The six alphas turned and parted down the middle as the omega that had first greeted them that morning walked forwards. He still looked as fidgety as that morning, averting everyone’s curious gaze, but he seemed more confident at the same time. Though, their eyes narrowed in on the large long black case that the man was shouldering, that might have had something to do with it, “Boss, I’ll drive anyone you put with me.”

Tadashi tipped his head in respect and Suga’s heart could’ve melted in his chest. The nervous eyes met his and Suga reflexively put his hand on his shoulder, watching the emotions flit through his face and then settle into a quiet determination. That was more like the Tadashi he knew. A fire in his eyes to get the job done.

“I’ll be in the van Boss. Jay-kun is expecting us in 15 minutes, so time is of the essence.”

“Oi, lookie here.” Oikawa laughed, not unkindly but his tongue still sharp, “Growing up are we Magpie?”

The quiet unassuming man said nothing in response, walking past Oikawa before flipping the bird to his following gaze. Then came a trailing, quiet, “Up yours Raven,” followed by a quiet chuckle. Oikawa grinned manically.

“Crow, we’ll take those two with us.” Oikawa threw two fingers to Kageyama and Iwaizumi respectively, “They look like they have strong stomachs.”

“So long as they can handle your driving.” Suga sighed then beckoned to Daichi, “Mr Captain man you’re with me. I’ll run you through your responsibilities on the way there. Try to limit miscommunication between groups. Oh, and Raven-kuns –“

Oikawa and Hinata spun from where they were walking towards the car, Hinata’s hand already on the handle of the passenger side door. Iwaizumi and Kageyama, already starting to break away from the group to follow them, also stopped and turned to watch the silver-haired omega.

“– give them a basic run down of what’s expected.”

Nods.

“The rest of you will be in the last van with Magpie-kun. Wait for Jay-kun until you start asking questions. If you ask anything of Magpie he’ll gut you.”

“Is dealing with cops not his strong suit or something?” Kyoutani growled, chuckling softly.

The temperature dropped ten degrees under Suga’s cold glare. It was like the life had been sucked out of the air around them, the sun disappearing entirely. Everyone stiffened under the domineering presence of the omega – an oxymoron if they’d ever heard one. But it was happening, and all of a sudden even a dominant alpha like Kyoutani felt like exposing his neck in submission, like falling to the ground in utter compliance. Suga gritted his teeth and growled.

It was a fucking understatement to say dealing with cops wasn’t his strong suit.

“Don’t joke about something you know nothing about, son.” A threat. Threat that he couldn’t help but feel shake him to his core, “If I so much as smell a whiff of distress from him, I’ll make you wish you were dead. You’ll beg to be tortured.”

Suga had to force himself to take a deep breath and he pictured the mental switch in his mind. Flipped it. Controlled his presence, his scent.

“Now,” His tone was sweet and soft again, losing that razor sharp edge, “Please get in the car, so we can get a move on.”

And the alphas did just that. Daichi’s heart thudded in his chest, thoughts unable to stay fixated on the coming few hours – only on the fierce territorial, protective expression that had painted the Crow’s face. His eyes, the beautiful hazel that Daichi had been facing off against for the majority of the day, had hardened, darkened into a dangerous colour that he felt himself getting lost in. Dangerous because all the Captain wanted to do now was lose himself in them again, to watch them again.

As he slid into the passenger seat of the van, and Suga into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but watch him. Wondering, thinking, how would this end? What would happen once the Syndicate was taken care of? And what the fuck had he been talking about earlier about a tattoo?

Chapter Text

The steady thrum of the car’s engine was interrupted only by Oikawa’s fingers on the steering wheel as they sat stopped at a red light. Despite being mid spring, the sky was already darkening, starting to shift from the sweet cornflower blue to hazier hues of periwinkle, starting to taint the sky a light purple. It hadn’t even ticked over to evening yet. The ship wouldn’t dock for another two hours, yet Oikawa beat his fingers on the steering wheel, something flickering in his eyes.

It had come to that time again for Oikawa, stomach clenching and unclenching, head beginning to spin. The light blinked green and a second later he took off, turning the steering wheel as if he were possessed. Gravitational forces did their work on the alphas in the back and in Hinata, throwing them to the left as Oikawa swerved right.

The other omega immediately knew something was wrong. It had been a feeling in his stomach all day – even since that morning when they’d tied in sparring again. As much as he hated to admit it, Hinata’s speed, when they were in the ring and he couldn’t make full use of closed in walls or situational weapons, couldn’t match up to Oikawa’s technique. He counted the days in his head, could it be… his heat? Or… if it was what exactly he was thinking of, it could be something much worse. But he couldn’t do anything in front of the alphas without raising suspicion.

“Raven,” He remembered something, that they both tended to forget. Hinata gave Oikawa a wide-eyed look, “We forgot about Rook-san.”

“Shit.” Oikawa spoke through gritted teeth, then reached out to flick on the radio, turning the dial directly down. Kageyama and Iwaizumi watched with bated breath, curious. It had taken them a great deal to hold their tongues for the past few minutes that they’d been in the car, difficult to stem both of their natural curiosities to learn. Iwaizumi also frowned at the male’s short snap half expecting him to be more dramatic about it, or at least quip back to the other. He guessed that was just how the Raven got before a raid. Tension did odd things to people.

The radio crackled in a way that didn’t suggest radio static, and a voice – toneless, apathetic and to the cops ears, disturbingly familiar in a way that they couldn’t quite place it, erupted from the tiny speakers.

“About time, Ravens.”

“We have guests too, Rook. Don’t forget to introduce yourself.” Oikawa half smirked into the mirror at Iwaizumi, who immediately averted his eyes.

Kenma ignored him and continued, “I guess you’re wanting me to explain the details?”

Hinata half-nodded as he was speaking, a fact that Kageyama caught, a fact that he didn’t quite know what to do with, “Uh-huh. Crow only gave us the base knowledge, and the Officers in the back don’t know anything. For the raid to be a success we need to –“

“Of course.”

Through the static there came the distinct sounds of clicking and then wheels rolling on what seemed to be some sort of hard floor. The whirring of many mechanical devices sounded as well, “Also Raven take a left here.”

Oikawa was thirty metres away from an intersection and he couldn’t help but give a small chuckle, “Ever the micromanager Ke – ah, Rook-san.”

“And Crow tells me I’m the one who’s most likely to slip up.” Hinata shot him smirking, “Nearly blew it up on us.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but be amused by their antics, and Kageyama had that look on his face that spoke of the same. Now the cop knew the vague sound of the first letter of the name of their informant – which was extremely important information. After working alongside the likes of Daichi and Iwaizumi, and being involved in military intelligence before public service Kageyama had had to learn the importance of even the smallest titbits of information.

The radio crackled as the man on the other end cleared his throat, “It’s the Snakes, their main ship is docking tonight at 7:00.”

“Damn bastards.” Hinata growled, scent beginning to foul the car, leaking dangerously. The ginger tang in the air sharpened considerably, “Did their higher-ups have a say in it?”

“So far evidence suggests we’ll be dealing with expendables, so the quality of the contents may be low, though the Snakes are well-known for their bluffing skills. Looking at the cameras that haven’t been cut off – I can’t see anyone of note.”

“How many men?” Iwaizumi asked, using this information to enquire further. Oikawa glanced at him through the mirror, and Hinata caught a smirk tugging his lips – though he immediately squashed it.

“Thirty.”

“That’s a small gang?” Kageyama exclaimed.

Hinata now fully laughed, backed up by Rook’s low chuckle. His face split into an open grin, “Of course not baka, they wouldn’t be all a part of the gang. Just like how corrupt nobility is, the gang would have a circle of ‘members’ and then people they hire to do their bidding.”

“Though of course, hire is a nice word for using brute force.” Oikawa chuckled bitterly, “Continue Rook.”

“Your task will be to incapacitate these thirty men in some way or another, and load up the vans with their weapon stock. In accordance with this, the figureheads of this operation will also be taken in for questioning and everyone there will be branded. Seeing as this is a gang connected to the syndicate we will be leaving our calling card as well.”

“Is branding necessary?” Kageyama remembered the conversation their unit had shared with the man named Jay. He rubbed the nape of his neck uncomfortably, a little bit of his scent seeping out to calm him. Iwaizumi shot him a warning look as the other alpha caught a whiff of it, and shook his head fervently. His eyes grew wide as he realised what he was doing and immediately stopped, reeling his scent back in as much as he could. From the lack of reaction from the front two seats, it seemed he’d been successful at his attempts. The alpha breathed a sigh of relief. Their necks would be on the line if the omegas stepped out of the car with their scents on them. That silver-haired crow would have their heads, and Daichi wouldn’t be far behind.

“It just warns other omegas what sort of people they are dealing with. And it’s a warning to the alphas to never do it again, that the world isn’t as they think it is.” Oikawa hissed, a faraway look in his eye.

Hinata also had the same look, and when he added to Oikawa’s comment, his voice was bitter and full of hatred, “It’s a reminder to never try and manipulate or put down an omega again.”

“Oh.” Kageyama struggled to find the words to rectify himself, “That makes sense, I guess. Do you just brand alphas then? What if there are betas involved?”

“Everyone there.” Oikawa repeated what Kenma had said moments earlier, voice considerably more chipper now. Sweat beads had started to form on his hairline, Hinata shot him a worried look.

“You’ll be split into teams.” Kenma continued, taking the silence as permission to speak, voice warbled as they drove, “Right here Raven. Officer Kageyama and Officer Iwaizumi will be with the Ravens who will instruct you. You guys will be at the docks themselves and take care of the majority of fighting and hand to hand combat. Officers Tanaka and Kyoutani, looking at their operation history will take charge of the ship, with Officer Asahi regarding his overall stature will be responsible for retrieval of the weapons. Crow-san and Captain Daichi will oversee and locate the figureheads. Jay will guard the vehicles and when all members have finished with their respective tasks, will undertake the branding. Is that clear?”

It was disconcerting. Though they had written their names on the slips of paper the young omega had handed them this morning, hearing their names roll so naturally off the disembodied voice’s tongue, Kageyama and Iwaizumi immediately felt exposed. How many people knew their names?

“Ohh, so those are your names,” Hinata breathed a sigh of relief. He twisted in his seat and smiled. Only then did Kageyama realise he was still holding that knife from earlier, in his other hand a gun held casually. Did the man have a fetish for weapons or something? He flipped the knife casually and pointed it at Kageyama and then Iwaizumi, “So who’s who?”

Iwaizumi didn’t want to answer. After all, they know nothing about the omega in front of them. Wasn’t this all a bit unfair? And why did the omega have to keep the knife pointed at him? Though, their informant already knew everyone’s names, so did it really matter? His gaze shifted from Hinata to the dial pointed all the way down, and then flicked up to the rear vision mirror, where he caught Oikawa’s dark mahogany eyes. They flicked back to the road immediately.

“Why should we tell you if you won’t us anything about yourselves? At least offer up some information if you want to know. Conversations are a two way street.” Kageyama rolled his eyes at the orange-haired omega. The latter immediately flicked the knife his way again and narrowed his eyes, smile dropping. It no longer seemed the atmosphere operated at 1 atm either, the pressure of Hinata’s gaze increasing.

And then the moment passed, when Oikawa smacked Hinata’s turned back, “Don’t be so petty chibi-chan, as much as I hate to admit it the alpha makes a fair point.”

“Thank you.” Kageyama inclined his head roughly to Oikawa, who had to choke back a snort.

“Oh my god, are you for real?” The driver laughed and then at a loud crackling of static that brought everyone back to their senses calmed and cleared his throat, “Thanks Rook-san, I take it you’ve yet to inform Magpie yet?”

“We need to discuss his role in more detail. One of the towers he frequents for his sniping has been demolished, and because of its placement, there are no tall residential buildings. If we’re done here, I’ll go, because he needs to be contacted.”

“All clear Rook. You’ve done your bit today. Don’t stay up too late gaming.” Oikawa’s tones were back to being light and airy, mocking in the last statement. The other man, apparently didn’t find it within himself to reply, just huffing gently through the static and then shutting off mic, and the radio’s 8-bit screen flicked blank again.

“Hold on a minute, is that green haired kid your sniper?” Kageyama’s curiosity ran off with his tongue, “He doesn’t look like he can hold a gun, let alone shoot long range.”

“Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong,” Hinata shook his head, “Sure he’s on the nervous side, but he’s the best out of all of us when it comes to sniping. When he’s on the field it’s like he’s a completely different person. He’s terrifying.”

“You’re one to talk.” Oikawa huffed, then fell silent again. Odd, thought Iwaizumi, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a better view of the omega. As he did, he caught a whiff of the man’s scent, and as he did, everything became ten times more confusing. It was different from before, when the omega had used unknowingly leaked it during the spar with Kyoutani. Now in the cool conditioned air of the car, the intricacies were clearer. Yet not at the same time. It was muddled, and he could pick up faint traces of other alphas – stale, but a stable present, a mixture of cologne and a new shoe smell, as well as the faint but still sharp tang of cracked pepper.  All of these hints of alphas mixed horribly with the main, refreshing scent of the omega – smoke and rain. Yet with each passing second the alpha’s scent on the omega seemed to sharpen. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but wonder why.

Kageyama didn’t notice any of this, too focused on the implications of Hinata’s words, incredulous.

“He’s terrifying? I saw what you did the other night at the raid.”

Hinata stiffened, and his eyes bore holes into Kageyama’s. His tone was unnaturally even as he spoke again, words measured carefully, “What did I do the other night then?”

Kageyama disregarded the notes of warning in his tone, immediately reaching for the truth again. Iwaizumi, who had more tact than him, was too enraptured by his own thoughts and the way Oikawa’s quaffed hair was beginning to stick to the back of his head, to notice, “You cut another man’s tongue off while he was still alive! And you’re telling me that sniper is more scary?”

That caught everyone’s attention. Especially Iwaizumi’s, who hadn’t been privy to this information up until that moment, “WHAT? Kageyama did you –, is that the truth? God, branding’s one thing, what compelled you to do that?”

Hinata settled back into his seat, trying to quell the waves of anger that trembled through his body as he remembered the other night. From where he sat, hands on the steering wheel, Oikawa opened his mouth to say something, but a wave of nausea hit him and he clamped it shut again. Hinata would have to answer this on his own. Oikawa was dealing with his own regret.

The other omega could take the criticism, he didn’t mind the judging stares, incredulous looks. His hands clenched and unclenched in his lap, wrapping around the knife and then letting it rest in his palm, clasping the trigger of the gun to the point just before release and then letting go. He stared at the black barrel and forced his thoughts and roaring anger to calm.

“The bastard touched my sister. He was going to bond with her and make her his plaything. Take her innocence. I merely gave him the punishment he deserved.” Hinata’s voice hardened and he clenched his hands again, “And even then, I wish I did more.”

Not for the first time that day, the alphas were shocked into silence. Even their minds went blank, no thoughts to even try and dispute their former point.

“My name’s Kageyama.” Hinata turned to see the name rolling off the alpha’s lips, his blue eyes cold, but a hint of compassion lingering in the light that they caught, “I asked you to offer up some information and you did, so I’ll reciprocate. That and...” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “…I also honestly don’t know how to respond to what you just said so…”

He glanced at Iwaizumi for some help, who obliged, “Iwaizumi. May I ask how we’re supposed to differentiate the two of you while we’re on the field, seeing as you share the same name?”

“Well,” Hinata hesitated, “We obviously can’t give you our real names, so I guess just differ the honorifics. I’m younger, he’s older – you do the math.”

“Raven-san and Raven-kun then?” It felt unnatural to say, as the words fell in stuttered intervals from Kageyama’s mouth, but he was placated by Hinata’s enthusiastic nod.

“Yup! Just like that.”

Kageyama couldn’t help the red that was creeping along his neck as the smile graced the ball of sunshine in front of him – even if he was flipping a knife leisurely. The faint smell of ginger was so intoxicating, and the shine in the honeyed eyes, even if it was bloodlust, caught on his heartstrings and tugged. He’d never been a romantic, nor one for relationships with omegas, but this one in front of him seemed too good to be true.

Hinata turned back around to the front and to face Oikawa. His face was deathly pale and red was creeping along his neck, eyes wide as though he was searching for something. The red that creeped was not of the same origins of Kageyama’s, much to Oikawa’s chagrin, a rash that spreading. His hand, in a white-knuckle grip of the steering wheel, left it to fervently scratch. Manic almost.

A little huff of pain and distress alerted Iwaizumi to his plight, and he leaned forward in his seat again to try sand gauge what was wrong, “Raven are you–“

The smell of a foreign alpha assaulted his nose, a stale, acrid stench filling the car. Kageyama recoiled, as did Iwaizumi, his nostrils burning at the invasion. Hinata laid a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, not bothering with the pretence of normality anymore, “Raven?”

Oikawa felt his stomach roll and the heat that had started on the side of his neck travel all the way through his body. A pull on his heart that he hadn’t felt a long while, a sluggish sensation filling his limbs – arms feeling as though they were made of lead. His back ached and he felt something pull in his stomach, as though his body was preparing his womb for something. His head throbbed. And this time, it wasn’t a fatigue headache. He scratched his neck with as much force as he could, fingernails coated in blood by the time he pulled his hand away.

And then his stomach flipped again and he felt bile rising in his throat and…

“Fuck.” He groaned, hitting the brakes as hard as he could, unclipping his seatbelt and opening the door before the car had even fully rolled to a stop. Hinata wasn’t far behind, eyes wide and fingers hurried, hastened to help his friend.

Oikawa fell to the asphalt, coughing and spluttering as his stomach emptied. He heaved his last meal onto the pavement, chunks lodging in his throat as he coughed. Retching. Tears forced their way from his eyes as he felt the leaden feeling in his body increase nearly tenfold, pain like piercing needles driving into every corner of his body.

He felt arms wrap around him, and leaned into the touch.

“Who’s calling you?” Hinata’s soft murmurs broke apart into his styled hair, but reached his ears nonetheless. The warm body against his calmed him, and Hinata’s hand rubbed soothing circles into his body. Oikawa retched again as his body rejected his control, as his inner omega screamed in agony.

Distantly he heard car doors open and slam shut. But he didn’t care.

“I don’t know. I just – god.” He groaned, tensing up as another wave of pain hit him. All of a sudden, he was pushing from Hinata’s grasp and heaving again, bile forcing its way up his oesophagus, stomach empty of food. When he felt instinctively that his body was finished trying to force his organs up his throat, he leaned back onto the cold metal of the car and opened his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them in the first place. Hinata was right there, hand on shoulder, pushing his collar from his red raw neck.

Iwaizumi and Kageyama just watched, knowing from the territorial growl Hinata had given them to not get any closer. Something was obviously very, very wrong with the other omega, who sat shivering on the ground, but neither knew what. Not until Hinata pushed down Oikawa’s collar and revealed them.

Three bond marks littered the beautiful skin of his neck. Iwaizumi felt himself flush red at the sight. One of them in particular was raised and red and looking as if it was throbbing. To Oikawa it was, angrily. The red rash that was creeping up and down and around Oikawa’s neck originated from there, and blood oozed from the scar tissue that Oikawa had picked off.

“What happened?” Iwaizumi was the first to find his voice again, speaking in a hoarse whisper.

Oikawa’s unfocused eyes, concentrated on the darkening bruising sky slid over to his face, blurry. With difficulty the omega focused them in on the alpha. He laughed drily, coughing and shaking and stopping as he tensed his body around another stabbing wave of pain, “Have you never seen someone with more than one bond mark, al~pha?”

The last part lifted in a mocking, teasing tone, and having only ever been addressed like that in the bedroom before, Iwaizumi felt his flushed face darken and deepen in colour.

Oikawa shook his head slowly, as if trying to clear his head of himself and croaked, “You’re too easy, Officer.”

He obviously didn’t want to talk about it.

Hinata moved so that he was in front of Oikawa, hands now on both his shoulders, demanding his attention. Looking straight in his eyes, his mouth formed around the words, and he whispered them – “Own your past, Raven.”

“Own your past” The other weakly parroted, still trembling. The power of that phrase echoed through its familiarity in his mouth, spoken again and again in times of need, be it himself or others. He and Tadashi had coined it originally – over a shared sense of helplessness at their situation, but Suga and Hinata had also been quick to adopt it. Oikawa felt the stinging of the pain lessen slightly and he allowed his body to breathe again, having held it through the attacks.

Hinata gave him a once over, checking for signs of something that the alphas weren’t privy too – just yet, Iwaizumi hoped. He hoped one day he could know. Who had hurt this seemingly fearless omega – seemingly, for the omega that shook like a leaf in a gust of wind looked stripped of all confidence, in himself and others.

“We’re going to be late, so I need to tell Crow. Are you okay for me to…? Or do you think you can…”

“I…” Oikawa gasped and Iwaizumi took an instinctive step forward, waves of foreign alpha and omegan distress cursing the air around them. Hinata frowned, and wrapped his arms back around Oikawa, cooing softly as tears forced themselves from his friend’s eyes again. He couldn’t possibly imagine what Oikawa was going through, after all, he had no bond to be manipulated through, to have his presence be demanded through. He could only feel his heart break at the pain of the other, continuing to hum softly, “I’ll inform Crow of the situation.”

Hinata stood, then shed his blazer, placing it awkwardly over Oikawa’s chest. Stood next to him, letting the omega rest his head against his leg, the spot of his thigh just a bit above the knee. Oikawa clasped his own knees to his chest, eyes closed tightly again, a burning shame building below his belly button – he’d let the team down. Again. Again, with his stupid mistakes. Stupid body, stupid bond marks that stung and fucked everything up. Always. Again. Again. Again. He dug his nails into the small dents of his knees, relishing in the pain that he had control over – unlike the other that clawed below his skin, coiled in his gut and flushed his head with lead.

Hinata met Kageyama’s eyes, they watched him carefully with questions nearly spilling over, but his mouth was pressed tight into a thin line. He looked extremely uncomfortable. The alpha looked so unsure of what to do. But Hinata didn’t have time to think about the implications of his or Oikawa’s actions, not the flush rising to his cheeks as he realised, he’d just cooed and hummed and consoled in front of the officers. Weaknesses he had exposed. Shaking his head gently to clear his head, he flipped on his ear piece and snapped into action, “Rook-san, can you put me through to Boss? We have a situation.”

There was a hum of assent from Rook, and then a worried voice of his boss, “Raven, is everything alright?”

“He’s had an attack.”

“How bad is it? What’s the scale?” Hinata heard murmurings on the other end and a “– Yes, we’re still going as planned, we may just have to take on some extra responsibilities. Something’s come up with the Ravens.”

Hinata glanced down at Oikawa, ignoring the stares as he talked. He wanted to yell at the alphas to get the fuck out of sight so he could ask Oikawa the questions he wanted to ask, so he could call his friend by his given name and not the impersonal code name they masked themselves with. The trembling man coughed weakly and seized up again.

“It’s the worst one I’ve seen since it happened the first time. The alpha’s fucking with us Boss.” Hinata caught the look on the officers faces, “Not you, you idiots.”

“Symptoms? Scent? Who is it? What does he want?”

“He’s being summoned. The scent is cracked pepper and –“ Hinata felt his own face grow pale as the scent washed over him again, Oikawa’s face screwing up in pain and he felt his own stomach roll. Repressed memories threatened to rise. His hand travelled unconsciously to his stomach, tracing the scar tissue. He swallowed the bile that rose.

Suga remained quiet on the other end, waiting for Hinata to speak again. Daichi watched his expressions change from concerned to angry as the silence progressed then sad. In a soft voice, a voice softer than anything the Captain had ever heard, he spoke, “It’s okay Raven. Take your time.”

“Yeah.” Hinata’s voice shook and he placed a hand in Oikawa’s hair. Both actions weren’t lost on the alphas. Kageyama’s brow knitted together as he listened, and Iwaizumi, not lifting his eyes off Oikawa, felt repulsion stir in his gut – repulsion and disgust for the alpha that had caused the bond to become so red and raised. At the same time, they saw the affectionate touch the omega’s shared and felt their hearts soften and instincts raise in blatant protectiveness.  

“Um.. cracked pepper and.. I think it’s..” The omega realised just who he was talking around and swallowed, somewhat nervous, “Raven’s third bondmate that’s summoning him. That alpha has obvious ties to the Snakes, and given our track record with raids, well. It’s a possibility that they’ve taken this into account, and are actively trying to stop us and slow us down.”

“So that bastard is fucking with him on purpose?” Suga spat down the line.

“There’s no way this is a coincidence Crow-san. Raven, he’s… I don’t know if he’ll be fine in time for the raid. I think that bastard is fucking with him for fun.”

“For fuck’s sake.” A sigh from the static, “When I get my hands on him –“

“That’s dangerous Boss, your face is too well recognised around those type of people.” He had to choose his words incredibly carefully, feeling the heated stare of Kageyama. While Hinata’s reflexes were faster than the alphas, he was doubtful about his brain’s processing speed. If there was even a hint of two dots being related, Kageyama might just draw the line between them, piecing the web slowly together until the crows found themselves trapped in their own creation – their rules only worked inside their family. Society didn’t care for those who were lost by their systems – seldom found. Hinata ran his other hand through his own hair, biting his lip, “Listen, you go on ahead with the other alphas. We’ll make our way there, so even if Raven can’t fight, the rest of us will be available. The Snakes cannot keep their slippery hands on those weapons. We have to hit the Syndicate where it fucking hurts – and that means taking out their lackeys.”

“You’re right, forgive me for that lapse in judgement” Suga hummed, spinning the wheel casually, regaining his composure at Hinata’s carefully considered words, “Don’t allow them to turn the tables on us. You’re only goddamn right. How long do you think you’ll be?”

Oikawa dry retched again, but the feeling was starting to return to his limbs, and they were feeling more like steel then simply lead. He groaned, wiping bile from the corners of his lips, opening his eyes to the ever-bruised sky a deep plum purple now, “That fucking sick piece of shit bastard.”

Hinata smirked and ruffled Oikawa’s hair, “We’ll be half an hour.”

The omega groaned disapproval and weakly swatted Hinata’s hand away as the line closed, “I could hear everything you know – Rook-san activated my ear piece as well.”

“At least you’re feeling good enough to talk. Now, can you stand?” Hinata pushed off the car and walked to extend a hand. Oikawa stared at it, then shook his head, as if trying to clear the images of a distant time, as if trying to clear his mind of a distant command to Come and sit at the foot of your alpha, kneel before your owner, do as I say, “Just give me a minute. I’m seeing stars.”

“That’s cause its going on night ya Grand King.”

Oikawa laughed weakly and flopped his head in his hands, world spinning around him as another wave of nausea consumed him. When he lifted his head, it was only to scratch his neck, but before he could do so, a hand was swatting his away and he looked up to focus on Iwaizumi – who had closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Hinata’s outrage exploded as he saw fear grow in his friend’s eyes.

“Don’t scratch, you’ll only make it worse.” Iwaizumi had no idea what he was doing, what his legs and hands had done on instinct, but he knew what he was talking about, “If you have a first aid kit, I could probably find something for the rash, and some bandaging for the… incisions you’ve opened up.”

He turned to Hinata, whose anger died in his lungs as he had readied himself to begin yelling, “Do you have a first aid kit I can use?”

Hinata nodded dumbly, then scrambled to the back of the car, opening the boot with care – knowing what sort of explosives it contained. Kageyama was right on his heels, wanting to feel slightly helpful. The alpha was shocked to see the boot filled with nondescript black briefcases and as he reached out to move one out of the omega’s way, he was surprised to see his hand swatted away.

“What was –“

“Baka, do you want your head blown off?” Hinata reached for the grey one buried at the back of the boot, “Magpie packed the explosives so be careful.”

“Oh… uh... sorry?”

Hinata laughed at the awkwardness, “You’re not exactly the most social are you. Lemme guess, you were more the studious type in high school? Dark and brooding, got in fights?”

Kageyama scratched the back of his head, and dropped his gaze embarrassed, “Basically yeah… what about you? You seem the type to be popular.”

Hinata’s eyes grew saucer-like and he froze. Only for a split-second though, resuming his task of now closing the boot of the car, grey briefcase clasped tight in hands, “Uhh... didn’t really go to school. Learned off the streets ya know?”

Which wasn’t technically a lie. Technically. He did learn off the streets, but only after having been home-schooled for 15 years of his life, running as soon as he turned 18, as soon as he’d felt his wings clipped and his freedom stolen. Even though it should’ve been the other way around, as it was for the alphas and betas and other omegas, finally adults and free to fly where they wanted. For 18 was the year he’d gotten married, and 18 was the year he’d lost it all.

He squeezed his eyes shut for two seconds then opened them, trying to erase those memories as if his mind were some perverse Etch-a-Sketch. Kageyama didn’t notice that, but he saw the tight clasp of his hands, his knuckles hinting at white. Not going to school was concerning, everyone – alpha, beta and omega alike – deserved an education, equal education.

“That must’ve been tough.”

“Mm.” Hinata nodded, not really listening, focused on his friend as they walked back around the car. Oikawa was shivering again, “Gods, Raven, are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Give me my suppressants.” He forced out through gritted teeth, head now banging back onto the metal of the car. Iwaizumi had pressed the corner of his sleeve to Oikawa’s neck, soaking up the blood that just wouldn’t stop flowing. The alpha indulging in such tender actions came as a bit of a surprise to both Kageyama and Hinata, but both kept their tongues tight, recognising the true priority at hand.

Hinata should’ve shaken his head. Everyone knew how dangerous suppressants could be, they were more for scent and heats and risky actions like this could cause harm to the omega but – he saw the pain wash over Oikawa’s face as the omega tensed again – he couldn’t say no. He laid the briefcase on the ground and opened it.

Iwaizumi grabbed the gauze and the ointment and went about quietly treating the wound mumbling as he did so, “It’s okay, I’m a trained paramedic, so you’re in safe hands. I won’t hurt you, so please try and relax. Now I’m just going to apply this ointment to your rash, so if it stings a little bit it just means that it’s working, nothing more, nothing less. Okay?”

Oikawa nodded, a small whimper leaving his thin-pressed lips. He cringed at the sound and – “Sorry.” 

“Dumbass, don’t apologise.” Hinata chided, grabbing two vials of murky liquid from the case. The alphas both looked taken aback as he did, filling two needles almost to the brim with the medicine. Catching their stunned looks, he couldn’t help but feel annoyed, “What? Never seen suppressants before?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be weakened?” Iwaizumi exclaimed, “That concentration and amount could kill him!”

Hinata looked at the vials again and blanched, the label clearly reading ‘Crow’. He tried his best to right his mistake, pushing the needles back down until there was only 1mL of each of the liquids in them. He tried not to reveal the labels as he slipped the vials back in the box. Hinata had only ever done this for Suga before and his boss had always had him fill up the needles until they couldn’t put any more in. Sometimes they’d even do double doses. Though of course, that fact was kept under tight wraps between Suga, Oikawa and himself.

Kageyama saw the label and added another dot in his mental mind map, to connect with the other bits of information he’d gleaned later. For now, he just watched the orange-haired Raven’s face, watched it try and hide his blunder, and his secretes that threatened to spill.

Hinata pushed the needles into Oikawa’s clothed arm, ignoring the small holes he poked in the fabric, ignoring the hiss of the omega as the cold metal entered his body. The murky liquid soon followed and as soon as it reached his heart, as soon as the muscle began to pump the drug around his system, he could feel the pain leaving, feel the hormones, the inner omega that clawed at his chest calm and rest its ugly head, sated.

Iwaizumi finished bandaging the wound, fingers grazing on one of the healed bond marks as he did, breath catching in his throat. He wondered if any more bond marks graced the other side of the man’s neck, but before he could think to check, he felt a pressure on his shoulder. The omega had fallen asleep, head lolling to rest next to Iwaizumi’s. A blush took over the alpha’s face, and somewhere distant Kageyama laughed.

“Seeing as you’re already halfway there, can you slip him in the car?” Hinata took control of the situation again, having lost it for a second when Oikawa had fallen asleep, emotions swirling within him. But he rested assured knowing that if the officer had any ill intentions towards his friend – who was at this point, more a brother than anything else – he would rip him apart limb by limb, gut him organ by organ and make him regret any more heartache he would have caused Oikawa.

The alpha was completely ignorant of Hinata’s inner picture of dicing up his fingers – because wasn’t that the first thing to do as soon as you tortured someone? You render them unable to grip things, they could move, but they couldn’t type, text, call, couldn’t open doors. He’d done it before, void of glee but full of the cold pit of revenge, to an alpha who had dared feel Tadashi up on a day trip to the slums, visiting one of their ‘found’ families. That particular alpha had learnt his lesson, but he never left the room he learnt it in. And now this one stood, cradling Oikawa gently, and Hinata hoped that he wouldn’t have to punish this man for hurting his family. Because goodness knows that Oikawa had been hurt enough already.

“Kageyama can you?” He tilted his head towards the door handle of the back seat and the other alpha was quick to lend a free hand, finally feeling somewhat useful. Iwaizumi turned a stern face to Hinata, but one that showed a level of respect, “Is it okay to put him in the back seat?”

The omega nodded and opened the driver seat door as well, “Officer Bakayama can sit in the front seat.”

He sent them a thankful smile, unlike his overpowering grin – this one spoke of more vulnerabilities, where his happiness wasn’t being used as a weapon. Iwaizumi chuckled as he manoeuvred Oikawa in, only having a little bit of difficulty with the omega’s legs. His face turned red as he moved them inside the car, fingers picking up how well defined they were. Solid muscle that didn’t bulk, but slide down in beautiful textured dips and dives, slender omega legs that went on for days. Legs that you wouldn’t find on a female. Legs that he wouldn’t change for the world. Iwaizumi coughed, feeling as if he knew exactly what the omega would say in this situation, ‘You’re too easy Officer.’

A small part of him wished for the omega to wake up from his suppressant induced sleep to say just that. But he didn’t. Iwaizumi just had to settle for propping him up against the seat beside him, Hinata’s jacket settling on the omegas lap.

“Don’t call me that dumbass.” Kageyama quipped back to Hinata before he could stop himself. The words just slipped out.

“It’s Kageyama not Bakayama.” He readjusted carefully, eying the man’s facial expression as he clipped his seatbelt on, wondering whether he should just jump ship and get out of there while he still could. Much to his surprise, Hinata didn’t take offense at the name-calling, just laughed, “I know what I said, Bakayama.”

“Idiot.” He grumbled, feeling disgruntled and perturbed by the name. Iwaizumi merely chuckled, and the alpha spun around to face him, “Don’t take his side Iwaizumi!”

The car rumbled to life around them, and Hinata floored the accelerator without so much as a warning, throwing them back in their seats. Three seconds later and they all found out why Crow didn’t let Hinata drive.

• ••

Suga listened as the line cut off, and sighed his way to the next intersection.

“Don’t look at me like that Mr… I think Rook said your name was Daichi?” The alpha nodded because he suddenly became unable to produce sound, shocked by the natural refined lilt combined with his name. He wanted to hear it again, but neither had the gall, nor the available vocal cords to ask, “I’m sure your own dysfunctional family has some fuck-ups as well.”

“I’m afraid they’d be much more benign than yours.” He chuckled, watching Suga’s fingers handle the steering wheel with grace, hand over hand as he spun it, eyes searching. When they caught the street lights, his breath caught in his throat, watching the grey hazel sharpen and glow in the bright flashes of light. Daichi shifted his eyes to stare out at the darkening sky, “Though at times, I’m the one causing them.”

“Oh yeah?” Polite question, to keep the conversation from shifting his way, Suga inquired. Somewhat curious, as he’d never heard of police officers being ‘fuck-ups’ or causing ‘fuck-ups’, as he’d never experienced the inside of a police station. That is of course, outside the holding room, “Breaking the law fuck-up?”

“Oh no,” He chuckled low and deep, that had Suga’s nerves tingle slightly, “Never that bad. But we’ve had a lot of fighting within our unit. After years of getting nowhere in the case and having eight alpha’s all in the same office, it grates on your nerves.”

“Mmm, I can imagine. When you say fight is it…”

“It’s physical.”

Suga chuckled, shaking his head slightly, eyes glossing over something as an unwanted memory rose to the front of his mind. What was it with this alpha sparking emotions he hadn’t felt in years? The fierce competitiveness with each other, the quiet understanding of someone in the same position as him – he couldn’t help but remember. Remember the one he’d left behind, his younger brother. Feeling the melancholic regret start to push its treacherous boundaries closer to the surface, he swallowed and forced himself to say something, “Of course it is. So why is Maddog with you?”

Daichi didn’t know the turmoil of his head, nor his heart – and the omega had a strong enough control over his scent to not show the distress that would have otherwise coloured it tainted, “Ahh, you may have known him while he was working undercover at a club in Central. He was one of the Cougars executives for a while, managing the club, and stuff. He was one of our main informants, but we had to pull him out because he was getting too deep, unstable.”

“That makes sense. I saw him a couple of times on business terms, turf wars and the like.” Suga hummed as if the term ‘turf wars’ meant nothing to him. As if this was a completely normal conversation to be having with the head of a detective unit. Though, Suga knew what he was doing – he knew how to offer up information that would keep the enemy satiated in short, but fall through long term, “Did you pull him out because he was planning on bonding with Yahaba-kun?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“The poor thing. He’s a good soul, doesn’t deserve the hand of cards he’s been dealt.” The words seemed too refined for a simple gang leader, they sounded scripted, practiced for a life in the fast lane, or at least the smoky back rooms of high-end offices, negotiating deals for black market trades. Not for a man who lived in a warehouse. Suga hated himself for reverting to his old habits. Bad habits die hard.

Daichi noted the diction and moved on, deciding to discuss it later, filing away more information for his unit to pull apart later. This deal really was beneficial, “Ever since Kyoutani came back he’s been hard to manage, but he’s been in the field so long, I guess it’s hard to adjust back.”

“I’d keep an eye on him if I were you Daichi –“ Again Daichi’s heart thudded just a bit harder “– just make sure he’s not fucking up on purpose. I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but call it an omegan intuition if you will.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Crow. Though I must say as well – hoping I’m not overstepping my own bounds – you didn’t peg me as a type to get a tattoo.”

Suga laughed, from his belly to his chest and his lungs, he wheezed. That had been the last question he was expecting, “I guess you overheard Raven-kun and me then?”

“It was sorta hard not to eavesdrop, your Raven sounded pretty adamant.”

Suga nodded, “He is. He’s the type to go for something no matter what. If he believes in something, he’ll stick to that belief. Open to instruction of the mind, but you’ll never change his heart once it’s set. I’m telling you, don’t get between him and his goal because –“

“Yeah, I saw those photos.”

“That’s just the beginning. Raven hasn’t had the nicest life, mercy isn’t something he believes in. It was never shown to him.” The light caught the silver hair and for a split second Suga look transcendent, the wisdom and hurt for his family highlighted on his face and for the slightest moment Daichi felt that pain in his heart. He could only imagine the shit they’d had to go through. The light flashed them into darkness again as they exited the main city streets, switching them in favour for quieter residential areas as they made their way to the docks that were located on the west side of the central area. Suga sighed and the moment passed, “But yeah, I’m not surprised you say that. Not many people know I have tattoos, and I haven’t always wanted them.”

“So then what compelled you?”

Suga wasn’t quite sure how Daichi had manipulated the conversation so they were talking about him, but something inside him didn’t really mind, and so he relaxed a bit more into his seat and started to talk. It felt nice to talk to someone who could be sympathetic, who undoubtedly had their own burdens, but didn’t rely on him like his family did. He loved them of course, but now he felt noticed in a way he never knew he wanted, and it felt nice.

“It was after the first ever big thing that we did as a group.” That wasn’t a lie. The group had been Hinata, Oikawa and himself, when they’d all run from their respective pasts, “Not a raid, because it wasn’t. But it was the first choice I think we’d ever made for ourselves.”

Daichi cringed in his seat, not able to imagine his presumed alphan freedom ripped from him – or having never been born with it in the first place.

“I wanted something to remember it by, so I chose three crows in flight. Had them inked by Jay-kun, who didn’t become that until I walked into his shop covered in blood and demanding a tat. And that’s a story for another time.” He rolled his eyes at Daichi’s mouth half-open expression, caught in the act of prepping a question, rolling it on his tongue, “The crows were on purpose. Because that’s what we called ourselves, and I wanted to immortalise the moment we took flight. Sounds cheesy but it’s true.”

“That doesn’t sound cheesy at all.”

“You flatter me.”

“No I’m serious, that’s really, I guess, badass of you.” Daichi struggled to find the right words to describe the exact emotion he was feeling, “Poetic too.”

“Poetry is badass?”

“Yeah, why not.” The alpha shrugged chuckling slightly. A weight lifted slightly off his shoulders, the tension that had crept up on him over the years of working the same work every day easing slightly. He didn’t realise that though, caught up in the small smile that graced the omegas lips. They stayed without words for a while, laughing softly, before Daichi’s curiosity took over him again (nearly as bad as Kageyama’s bluntness), “So what about the tattoo you got recently then?”

“Ah, I get a tattoo after every raid. It’s like a morning after pill.” Suga mirrored the alpha’s action of before, shrugging slightly as he navigated through a set of particularly tight back streets, “You know, it’s like forgive but don’t forget. I’m not sure if I’m making sense here.”

“So you’re saying, you do it to… um… like… how do I put this, like you’re letting go of the guilt but shouldering the responsibility?”

“Yes! That’s it.” Suga briefly met his gaze, eyes shining as he found the words in his mind to properly articulate his thoughts, “Sort of. Now it’s just a tradition between me and Jay. But at the beginning it was definitely a way of putting the pain away. It’s also a reminder of our impact and success. If I were to show you the crows, I could tell what each one means, where each one took place, how many died, how many lives we saved. It’s a weight on my shoulder that I can’t allow myself to forget.”

The alpha was at a loss for words. He’d pushed a bit for information – about something so trivial he thought, but now? He didn’t realise how much meaning someone could hold onto a simple tattoo. Though now his thoughts had drastically changed, “That’s a hefty weight.”

“Yes, it is. But I don’t regret it, can you say the same?”

He side-eyed him, locking onto the alpha who had suddenly tensed. The low reverberations of a ‘No, I cannot.’ And a hung head with a thinking face. Suga fought the temptation to reach out and lift the alpha’s head himself, fingers wrapped around the chin. His inner omega stirred and he wished he’d stuffed himself full of more suppressants.

“Don’t worry about it Daichi, I find myself to be a bit of an outlier.”

• ••

A man sat at his desk, leg bouncing as he watched the footage of the cameras. A small voice mewled from beside him, a high-pitched whine of an omega, female and fragile. Metal clattered as the she shifted in her position, prostrated on the ground, waiting for her master’s order. A maid’s outfit, once pristine and white was smudged with soot, out of place on the marble floors.

The man paid no heed to her, nor the two others by her side, watching the pixelated images flit across the screen. He reached down through the bond again, smirking in sadistic pleasure as he watched the omega on the screen seize up in pain, body convulsing, retching onto the ground. The smirk turned into a frown as the omega continued to resist, so much so that others clouded the view of the street cameras, three bodies moving to block off the image of him.

“Fucking bitch.” The man spat, “You’ll regret running from me, Shoyou.”

Chapter Text

It would be dark when the first gunshot would ring across the empty yard of the docks. Tadashi wouldn’t hesitate in his shot. When he had his gun in his hands he never did. Rook had told him what had happened, Crow had told him the updated plans – when he went to swap drivers with Ennoshita he took his place in the back few seats of the van, catching the stares of the alphas who had been quietly murmuring. His hands shook as he reached for the black case he’d set before they’d left.

In. Out. That’s the way, ignore them. They know nothing. Control your fears. Own your past. You got this Tadashi. In. Out. He forced the air from his mouth, dragged it back into his body.

The scent patch on his gland did little to keep the alpha’s from noticing his anxiety, his nerve of being in their presence. His hands were shaking after all, and Asahi – the alpha paying him the most attention, feeling a sense of safety and kinship in his quiet demeanour – picked up on the hurried glances the omega threw their way. Tanaka and Kyoutani paid him no heed, the two playing a game of knuckles – making sure to rid their fingers of the brass knuckles they sported to begin with. Laughing. Tadashi flinched.

Flinched and then he lay a heavy hand on his case and felt his whole-body calm. With practiced efficiency he clicked the case open and removed his gun. Grabbed the cloth and began to wipe down its constituent parts, not minding the fact that he’d cleaned it after the last raid, that he wiped it down every night with care and love – his crutch, his safety net against life. He cradled it, and with a now steady hand, and a tender but confident touch, he began to assemble it. It wasn’t as if it was completely disassembled, but he had to attach the scope and adjust the stand and familiarise himself with the machine he’d already memorised.

It was the clicking of the scope into place that drew the alpha’s full attention. And what a change in personality they saw. Gone was the fidgety, distressed omega, whose eyes widened with fear and apprehension. The man had the same features as the one who had greeted them at the desk, black hair that had a rare green hue, brown eyes bright, and mouth pulled into a nervous half grin – but the impression he gave had completely changed.

Nimble fingers loaded the ammunition, eyes hard and determined, shoulders set back. Tadashi, in that moment, didn’t care about anyone anymore – he just breathed deep and focused on doing what he could do best – helping his family. He tapped his ear piece and heard the crackle of static that connected him to Kenma, “Rook-san –“

If he hadn’t had the alpha’s attention before he had it now. The game of knuckles dying immediately as Kyoutani and Tanaka’s eyes zeroed in on him – even Ennoshita from the front shot him a glance through the rear review mirror, bringing his own hand to his ear piece, opening the line as well.

“– What are the parameters for the raid?” His voice didn’t lose its soft quality, but didn’t betray his apparent confidence either. Balanced. His hands continued to clean and adjust and caress.

“Crow-san has already arrived and is waiting for your arrival.”

“I’m trying my best Rook-san, no need to rub it in,” Ennoshita huffed from the front, sending the alpha’s stares spiralling forwards as if caught watching a game of tennis – or if not tennis, then badminton, “Gathering at the same point as last time?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Thanks.” Ennoshita spun the wheel, the van skidding across an intersection as they narrowly made a turn off. Kyoutani fell in Tanaka’s lap, and growled. The omega laughed mirthlessly – “That’s why you wear seatbelts boys. It’s always safety first.”

“Says you, fucking branding people left and right,” Kyoutani spat, narrowing his eyes at Ennoshita’s back. Who shrugged, and braked suddenly then accelerated, watching the alpha’s struggle to find something to hold in the rear-view mirror. He laughed again, amused. It was a clear power play, a clear demonstration of his authority.

Tadashi, knowing how much of a bitch driver Ennoshita could be, merely rolled his eyes from where he was safely strapped in.

“Magpie, from the information I have – we need stealth more than fear. The minute the Snakes get wind of our intrusion, they’ll pull out of the dock as fast as they can. An all-attack is necessary at this point with our ground members , but we need you to weaken their numbers as much as possible. Is that possible for you?”

There was no doubt. Kenma held no doubt of the other man’s abilities, nor a shred of disrespect. But his words were carefully calculated and he spoke out of concern for Tadashi’s wellbeing. Tadashi recognised this immediately, and tried to push the indignation he felt from his mind. Took a deep breath. In. Out. And spoke, “Of course Rook. Thank you for the update.”

He turned off the safety with an audible click. Lifted his gun gently as the van bumped along with Ennoshita’s less then smooth driving, swerving expertly through the streets of west central, where buildings rose high, but streets ran with the stench of rotting fish and salt water rode the nose and rusted the bolts. Tadashi unclipped his seat belt and stood – albeit swaying. The alphas couldn’t look away, eyes flicking between the menacing barrel of the sniper rifle and the omega’s determined glare.

“To immobilise or to kill?”

The answer wasn’t immediate – but it came in between the alpha’s bated breaths, the officers watching the micro-expressions of Tadashi’s face, waiting to know just how illegal and immoral the task they were about to undertake was. Hoping they could glean some information from the one-sided conversation. At the mention of murder their faces darkened, and if Tadashi noticed, he didn’t show it – eyes searching blank space focused on the static in his ear. Waiting.

“Kill the isolated ones. Crow wants any important looking alpha’s to be immobilised – hand then leg.”

“Ah, of course,” Tadashi caught Ennoshita’s eyes – the other omega having kept his line open through it all. The driver nodded sagely, and raised his eyebrows at the omega, “Where do you want to get off?”

They were unreadable but Tanaka should have expected that. He hadn’t been able to read the tattooed omega’s face since arrival – even in his expressions of sighs, eye rolls and apathetic smokes. He should’ve expected the same from the green-haired one, even though his soft open expression at the desk had stumped all of them, having them question the gang’s own intentions. Asahi and Kyoutani now saw this as a deception in and of itself – as that same omega stood in front of them, sniper rifle in hand, speaking in calm, quiet, but clipped sentences, taking an authority to his tone. They wondered who held a higher position in the gang hierarchy, and if Magpie was going to be killing anyone.

The question they had was answered fifteen minutes later, when they pulled up to where their respective bosses were waiting, the silver-haired man prepping what looked like the same taser that had put all but Tanaka and Daichi under the first time they’d met. Kyoutani peered at it apprehensively.

“Don’t worry Mad dog.” Suga hummed softly, not appeasing any worries as he tested it, sparks crackling wildly, a grin spreading across his face, bathed in pale flickering blue light, “If you pull your weight tonight, these weapons won’t turn on you. But I’m warning all of you, the minute you fuck up, show any hint of betrayal, I have no qualms giving you the same treatment as –“

A shot rang out across the dark and Suga laughed in its ringing aftereffects, “Magpie’s telling us to hurry up. Ah well, I guess I’ll lead. Jay-kun, since the Ravens have been caught in other business, I want you to take Officers’ Kyoutani and Tanaka to the ship and deal with whatever shit happens there. Their Captain and I will cover the land.”

Another shot, muffled this time echoed slightly, and the alpha’s who weren’t prepared to hear it flinched. Ennoshita didn’t so much as bat an eyelid, gesturing to the two he’d be leading – the tennis-ball looking cut growling lowly at the omega as if he was offended to be under such a dynamic’s authority, the bald one looking not as the other did, instead apprehensively over to where the shot had sounded.

“Is your buddy killing people?” He asked. Ennoshita could’ve laughed at the word ‘buddy’, but he didn’t. Mainly because of the contents of the questions – he didn’t want miscommunication. He looked to Suga for help. Suga, who had heard the question spoken to dead air, nodded, “Mm, if he didn’t kill the isolated patrols, they’d call for backup or for the ship to back out of the docks.”

He looked at his watch and then tapped his earpiece, listening to the delicious static, “Rook, connect me to the Ravens.”

Ennoshita walked off with the two alphan officers following, instinctively knowing it was a conversation he wasn’t needed for, “Officer Asahi, please follow me as well. Though,” He looked at the nervous expression gracing the lumbering alpha’s face, “if your stomach is too weak to handle these encounter’s, by all means stay in the car.”

Asahi couldn’t back down from the blatant provocation, not when Tanaka snickered and Kyoutani straight up barked a laugh. He grit his teeth and followed the stoic omega, who was already pulling his gun from his holster. His colleagues seeing the action also pulled their guns, and Asahi fumbled for his. They walked off into towards the large chain-link fence that enclosed the docks, Ennoshita prepared to wreck shop. There was nothing the omega wanted more than to pull his weight for the team, to ease the burden on Suga.

Meanwhile, Suga was standing still by the cars, hand – by habit, at this point – still pressing his ear piece to his ear, listening to the crackle of static before a voice said, “Hey Crow, you’re on radio – so hold your tongue.”

•••

Hinata’s driving was at best reckless. At worst, he clipped the curbs and ran the sidewalks – too busy watching his friend in the rear-view mirror, too busy feeling the need for speed. As the radio crackled to life, dial still turned all the way down, he only used the words that came to mind, “Hey Crow, you’re on radio – so hold your tongue.”

While the alpha’s in the car stiffened up at the brazen language – knowing how frightening the silver-haired boss could be, Suga didn’t so much as flinch on the other end, laughing sharply then stopping nearly as soon as he started, “What’s your ETA, Raven?”

The terminology caught Iwaizumi’s and Kageyama’s experienced ears; ETA not a phrase that was often used by civilians.

From the front Hinata huffed, “I’m not sure, if I break some road rules, maybe 10 minutes.”

Kageyama and Iwaizumi shared a look. Wasn’t he already breaking road rules, their gaze seemed to say, was he even aware of that? Kageyama shook his head in disbelief, glanced across at the sleeping omega, and then turned to watch the orange-haired man beside him. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were alight with fire but he didn’t seem to notice the other two officers – take into account that they were listening, “Leave some to me okay? I think I know who allowed the boat to dock.”

“We have to bide our time though Raven-kun. You and I both know what would happen if we get within five kilometres of him.”

“But that bastard dared to mess around with Raven again. Fucking hell, Crow can I do the interrogating this time? My blood’s boiling.” Hinata was licking his lips, and the two officers shivered. But Kageyama caught the look – not of manic energy which he held when recklessly tearing down the streets – the look of fierce determination.

His tongue loosened, “Who’s him?”

The crackling on the other end of the radio denoted silence, and Hinata blanched noticeably. Curious, Kageyama noted.

“No one that you need to concern yourself with.” Suga ended up saying, “It’s not pertinent to the job yet, but if it becomes necessary you will be told.”

“Cryptic.” Hinata choked out, twisting the wheel suddenly, avoiding someone who was obviously very drunk and probably trying to get themselves killed. From the back Oikawa groaned, and started to shiver, coughing weakly, thrown onto Iwaizumi’s lap by the G-forces belt doing little to help as it accommodated for the extra width.

The omega opened his eyes to look up at the blushing face of the Officer, and through his pain lazily shot him a smile, “Wow Officer, you’ve turned the same shade as my grandmother’s carpets.”

Hinata laughed from the front at the spectacle he observed in his rear-view mirror, tilted down to look into the backseat. Kageyama craned his neck around and seeing the positions of the two men, whipped it back around to the front. Rubbing his hands over his knees nervously, he tried to do something to ease the tension emanating from the back seat, permeating the front, “Um.. Crow-san are we doing anything to secure the perimeters?”

A bit of shock flitted threw Hinata, but he concealed it when it threatened to flit threw his face. Shock of the quick adaptation of the man. He had thought it would take a while for the two groups to warm up to each other, but with the respect he was showing his boss, Hinata no longer thought so. But he also knew, quietly, in the depths of his heart and soul, that if any of the alphas were to ever try and put Suga down – no one would be able to stop him from tearing their limbs off.

“There’s no need to secure perimeters.”

“Won’t they –“

“I know what you’re thinking Officer Kageyama.” He paused and there was some murmuring from the other end and a sigh and a, “Yes I’m talking to your subordinate. Rook-san has access to anything he wants, including the radio in our cars. Does your team not have an informant who can do the same?”. Iwaizumi and Kageyama went to retort, but Hinata lifted a hand from his grip on the wheel to stop them, shaking his head. He could tell by the Boss’s tone, that Suga wasn’t being serious – if anything he was teasing whoever he spoke to, presumably the Officer’s dear Captain. There was a slight influx in the static and then the words that Suga spoke became apparently directed towards the people in the car again, “There’s no need to secure the perimeters. This isn’t like a criminal cop situation. We both want to get rid of each other, and because they are indebted to a larger ring – the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate – they are willing to fight to the point of mutually ensured destruction. We’re also the only group that is all-omega, so their alphan pride won’t allow them to back down.”

There was a bitter tone in his voice, but it turned neutral again, “Raven-kun, we’re going in. Magpie is whittling down numbers, but we’re going to need you to take out the bulk. Their Captain and I will be attacking what I presume to be their Boss’s main hideout for this job. Can I trust you to take out the ones in the open?”

“Sure –“

Another voice joined in, cutting off Hinata suddenly. It was Ennoshita, “Boss, we’ve snuck on the boat. Weapons have been located.”

Ennoshita’s voice faltered and broke suddenly, “It’s not looking good.”

“What weapons are they?” From the background sounds, Suga had started to run. Hinata, knowing time was of the essence, floored it.

“Jay-kun,” Suga’s voice was stern and he emphasised every word, “What weapons are they?”

Everyone in the car listened in to the exchange Hinata had decided to opt out, focusing on turning tight corners as fast as he could without crashing. With each turn, his passengers slid like ragdolls – Kageyama held the safety handle on the side and tensed perpetually, trying not to get thrown onto the river. Oikawa who seemed to be slipping out of consciousness, in and out of lucidity, gripped the closest thing to him – which happened to be Iwaizumi’s black shirt. The alpha, even knowing that his scent would get on the omega and he would get his ass handed to him on a silver platter by a certain silver-haired omega, wrapped his arms around the omega’s upper body, holding him tight, protecting him against his friend’s reckless driving. Oikawa whimpered and squirmed as he fell back into another dreamless state, the aching in his neck eating away at him.

“They’re scent weapons.”

It wasn’t the proper term for them, but everyone knew exactly what Jay was talking about.

“Those are banned weapons!” Kageyama cried out in shock, mind reeling. Mental map of clues that he’d picked up destroyed at this new information. The loose scraps of his mentality scrambled to filter this information into the web – but nothing seemed to connect. His head pounded.

No one paid him any attention, as the alpha merely was voicing their collective thoughts, but Hinata glanced at him from his peripheries. The omega, through the haze of the moment, distantly wondered what would have him react so harshly. Suga’s voice interrupted his thoughts once more as the radio crackled and the voice filled the car from tiny speakers.

“Jay, have any of them been unloaded yet?”

“No. I was the first here.”

“Scope?”

“There’s –“ Ennoshita was cut off by a bang, “Fuck, I’ve got company Crow.”

“Don’t let them touch those weapons. If they do, we’re done for.”

It was common knowledge that scent weapons were banned, not-so-common knowledge that they primarily targeted omegas. Knowledge that only the underside of the city knew – they were still in use, and they were used to subdue omegas, control them. Get them scent-drunk, scent-addicted, turn them into nothing but their instincts. Hinata’s stomach crawled as the radio cut off, Ennoshita turning his off as soon as the shooting in the background turned urgent, Suga cutting his line off as well.

“Fuck.” Hinata swore. No one asked what he was swearing about. They all knew.

• ••

Tadashi lay on the lip of a building that Rook had guided him to in the waning light. In the past ten minutes he’d killed exactly six people, whittling the numbers from thirty to twenty-four. And… he shifted forward slightly, changing his position, peering through the scope of his sniper rifle, not minding the way wind whistled down his shirt, half hanging off the building. And, twenty-four was about to become twenty-three.

A solitary patrol strode in front of a building that rose slightly higher than the shipping containers around it. It looked out of place, and it didn’t look particularly isolated either. But he had his orders – to shoot the lone, shoot the solitary – and shoot to kill.

He regretted the shot as soon as he pulled the trigger.

Light flooded the area, and yelling erupted as bodies spilled from the building. Someone looked to where he used to be artfully hiding – now hideously exposed – and lined up a shot. Fear flooded his body, but was proceeded by adrenalin and he shimmied back until his chin scraped the lip and he hid behind the concrete. The shot fired chipped it. Tadashi cursed into his bleeding chin and slapped a hand to his ear, yelling as he did, “Rook, we have a problem. I’ve been compromised, main building, tell Raven to hurry up.”

He took a deep breath at the hurried assurance Kenma stressed onto him, hearing the man continue talking but the words not directed at him. Split lines he guessed. Figures. But there was no time to be thinking technology. Instead, he glanced back over the lip of the building and recoiled immediately as another shot pinged off the concrete – aimed for his head.

His position was definitely compromised, “They know where I am. I’ll hold defence. Activate my ear piece every five minutes and check in.”

… To make sure I ’m not dead.  

There was no need to say what was already clear. There was another hum of acknowledgement from Kenma, and Tadashi wedged himself into the corner of the concrete, and turned his gun upon the door from which he stepped from. It was time to wait and catch whichever motherfucker had the gall to step through the door. Fight or flight – and Tadashi was doing both.

• ••

The car door slammed shut. Oikawa in the last two minutes of the trip had found his dregs of energy, and was standing on slightly wobbly legs. Iwaizumi and Kageyama were staring at him, wondering how the fuck he was standing after they’d seen him literally seize up in pain, collapse and vomit until he was dry-retching. The omega rubbed his eyes, “Chibi-chan I need –“

“I know.” Before the alphas had time to formulate a coherent sentence, the boot of the car was yanked open and Hinata was rifling through the various briefcases with alarming haste – given the majority of their contents consisted of explosives. He found it in the back, a black briefcase with a blue strip around it. It was smaller than the rest, labelled simply Raven. Hinata pulled it out and set it on the ground, kneeling.

Oikawa stumbled over and fell to the ground in a huff, spreading his long legs out until they enclosed the case. He unlocked it and pulled out something the alphas couldn’t quite see, but the glint of something metallic and a long thin –

“Is that a needle?” Kageyama asked, Iwaizumi following with, “Raven are you doing drugs?”

“Yup.” Oikawa replied, voice distant as he readied the needle filled with a similar murky substance to the suppressant Hinata had shot him with earlier, except instead of being dark, was a pale translucent red. He swabbed his arm gently with some cotton wool, “Pretty much.”

Hinata handed him a rag and didn’t look as Oikawa pressed the cold metal needle to his skin. The former, couldn’t handle watching this sight, ironic and somewhat hypocritical given his insatiable appetite for hunting down alphas, bloodlust and manic energy. It was self-inflicted pain he couldn’t stand – hated the most, the pain on Oikawa’s face as he medicated, mirroring a pain he had placed upon himself so many years ago. His hands absentmindedly reached for his stomach, where beneath the fabric he could feel the knobs of gnarled scar tissue mocking him.

And he knew the alphas were looking at him weirdly, as he felt himself grow pale and turn. Hinata only turned back to face them when Oikawa put a hand on his leg, grit his teeth and sprung up – energy regained, “S’alright Raven, it’s finished. Ya can turn around.”

“What was your dosage?” He brushed off the pointed comment as Oikawa slung an arm around his shoulder and turned to grin unabashed at the alphas. Both of whom looked quite unsure of what to do. Iwaizumi’s hand was half outstretched but it quickly dropped, and Kageyama’s mouth – flailing like a fish out of water, quickly shut as Oikawa smirked at him. Hinata’s eyes were fixed solely on his friend and brother, not going to be the one to allow him to get off.

“Enough to keep me going until the end of the night.” He didn’t want to share how much or what exactly he was taking. It wouldn’t go down well at all. He gave Hinata a pointed look and then turned back to the Officers, pushing off his friend until he was standing upright – unsteady, but in less of a ‘about to drop’ and more of a ‘manic dog’ way, “So… which way are we heading?”

Hinata sighed, and smacked him up the back of the head, leaving a handprint and causing a string of expletives to leave Oikawa’s mouth, “Idiot, I’ll be telling Crow-san you took double the amount. You’re not supposed to enjoy it — it’s only to help you after you’ve had an attack.”

“Bastard — fuck, just shut up, we don’t have time. Which way are we heading?” Oikawa’s eyes flicked to the dark street in front of him, watching how in a free in a hundred metres the dark began to fight artificial light. Bright white light the continued to spread until they were bathed in the glow. The omegas pallor became apparent, as did the stress suddenly pulling his face. Something was horribly wrong — his stomach lurched in memory of his incident. Iwaizumi observed him with a guarded expression, one that neither of the omega’s cared enough to decipher, but Kageyama, being a long-time friend, recognised the worried expression at a glance. The latter turned to the growing patch of light, “What…? What’s happening?””

Hinata took no time stuffing Oikawa’s, for lack of a better word, drugs into the back of the car and locking it, before breaking into a jog. Keeping to the side of the building they’d parked next to, gun drawn, he motioned for the somewhat stunned alphas to join him. And they called themselves police officers. Though, his thoughts contested, he doubted they’d ever been in a situation as unpredictable as this. Oikawa was half a step behind him, and leaned forward to whisper, “Raven, it’s him isn’t it?”

The other omega only managed half a nod before he heard gunshots echoing from the behind the chain link fence a block away. He broke into a flat sprint, seeing a few men racing out and for a building opposite. Their targets weren’t those strays, even as Kageyama went to speak, Hinata shushed him – he had confidence in their sniper, Tadashi would take them out. Backing that man into a corner only caused him to fight harder. And if he had his gun in his hand – he was close to unstoppable.

“Bakayama, it’s our job to get the main building – don’t bother.” The whisper only a warning for what was to come.

After thirty seconds, they had reached the large chain link gate, leading the way to the docks, leading the way to the shipping container yard and the solitary building that rose three stories high above everything else. Yells echoed from there. Hinata swore, and turned to Oikawa – effectively ignoring the alphas now.

“I’ll take the front. That’s where the majority are located.”

Oikawa nodded, swallowing his pride to fill his rolling stomach. Even the drug induced energy that was boiling in his blood couldn’t keep him from admitting that he wasn’t in the best condition, “I’ll weed out those in the yard.”

Hinata raised his clenched fist – the one not holding the gun, and Oikawa did the same, clammy hand shaking slightly. The former frowned at the sight but didn’t say anything – knowing, trusting his partner would be okay. Bumping their fists, they pulled back into the classic symbol of scissors. Then nodded at each other.

“We’ll finish this later chibi.”

I won ’t die. And neither will you.

“Of course, ya grand king.” Hinata smiled once, almost ruefully, but with a spark of snark that Oikawa couldn’t overlook. He reached out and ruffled the orange mop of hair and grinned, then motioned to Iwaizumi.

“Officer, you’re stuck with me. Let’s go.” With that, Iwaizumi – confused, but heart warm from whatever little ritual he just saw – stepped closer to Oikawa and then as the omega began to edge his way closer to the yard, followed. Only a step behind. Wanting more than anything to prove a usefulness to the team. And maybe, just maybe, wanting to show off.

“I guess I’m with you?” Kageyama spoke, somewhat gruff. His hand gripped his gun and in his other hand another gun. Hinata raised his eyebrows at this but didn’t comment, just whistled in admiration. He noticed the grip of the gun, the ease in the alpha’s shoulders as he calmly surveyed the area, back straight. Military, Hinata thought, probably – with a rod that straight down his back – once a high rank. Interesting.

“Yeah. But I’m expecting you to pull your weight.” Hinata jumped lightly where he stood, tapping his feet together at the peak of his jump. He could feel the slow desperation to do something overcome him, and he wished more than anything to be inside, fighting. Though he knew it was his unstable hormones working their magic, he couldn’t help but start to feel the adrenalin, start to feel the first spikes of craving – craving for blood, craving for the control over chaos. He began to sneak towards the front of the building, where he could hear even louder shouts of foreign voices, and the yells they both recognised to be Suga and Daichi’s. Stopping before Hinata entered the gang’s line of sight, he turned to Kageyama – who froze in surprise. The alpha had never seen such potent manic energy in an omega’s eyes. He felt pinned in place, “Oh… and, don’t try and stop me. If you get in my way, I won’t hesitate,” Hinata lifted his gun until it touched the alpha’s chin, barrel pointing towards his brain. Kageyama was struck by the image of his brains splattered on the wall behind them and a soft tendril of fear began to snag at his feet, “to cut you down, and shoot you until you’re nothing more than a blood smear on the sidewalk.”

The cold metal left his chin, and Kageyama could only stare as Hinata stepped out into the view from the window and shot it, once, twice, watching as glass shattered and the omega’s boots crunched it underfoot as he stepped over the threshold through the door he’d just made. How was this the same man as the one who had said ‘Looking forward to working with you’ earlier that day?

But he didn’t have time to think. He rushed into the fray, his heart not in it as he continued to watch the omega perform acts of violence and beautiful fluid moves that Kageyama knew for a fact weren’t your typical street moves, ones that took years of scars and muscle memory to build up. The way the omega moved reminded him of a gazelle, running – no, wrong animal, it reminded him of a swan, all graceful, but terrifying to be on the receiving end of its attack.

“Stay focused idiot!” That snapped him out of it, as a knife nearly grazed him and the alpha in front of him swore and dropped his stance as if to tackle Kageyama. Hinata’s angry yell echoed.

“Fucking crows, come here you omega bitch.” The alpha yelled, the end of his growl morphing into a scream as Kageyama shot him point blank in the thigh. Before he and Daichi had run out to find the boss of this weapon smuggling operation, Crow had remined him to keep the alpha’s alive. Make an example of them, he’d shouted over the din. Give them hell. So, he did.

Hinata had only yelled to make sure Kageyama was focused. From the beginning of the raid, he’d been able to feel the Officer’s eyes on him, and the gaze nearly made him shiver. But he didn’t need that analysing glare on him – he needed the alpha’s fists knocking out the near crowd around them. He sent a flying roundhouse kick as he jumped, twisting his body and the arm holding the gun so that he could send another advancing alpha flying with a shot to his abdomen. Blood practically gushed, an artery pierced by hot searing metal, and in the spray it sent, Hinata’s face got soaked. He grinned through the blood, and it dripped.

It ran down the whites of his teeth and that only spurred him on as he tasted the coppery tang on his tongue, as it spread unhindered. The man hit the ground with a heavy thud and he turned back to his previous attacker.

“You little cunt. How fucking dare you. I’m going to rip you up, skin you, I’ll teach you –“

“Shut up.” Hinata drawled, dodging the wild punch that got sent his way. In his peripheries he could see Kageyama dealing with another alpha, one slightly smaller than the tall dark-haired man. The omega kicked his attacker in the nuts, who groaned low and guttural and every single man in the room flinched. It only made him smile more as he shot him, first in the hand and then in the calf. And as the alpha fell to greet his own blood splatter on the floor, Hinata sent another kick – this time to his falling head. A sickening crack – and ignoring more cries of outrage and advancing kicks, punches, invading arms, legs and bodies of comrades – he knelt over the fallen man. Feeling Kageyama’s eyes drift over, he widened his smile, “That’s what you fucking get for messing with us. We’re going to have so much fun taking you apart later.”

Hinata stepped over him and lifted his gun again, noting the slight lightness as the bullets flew. Three men went done – each with a shot to their abdomens – each with red blood, glossy in its viscosity, running down their front, splattering onto the wall. It coated his hands from where he’d fended them off, it coated his shoes from where he stepped on them and over them, it coated his face in streaks and rivers. And he felt amazing.

Kageyama was struggling to keep focused. He’d spent days on broken battlefields, in war-torn countries, on borders where the monarchy had failed to keep peace with. But those were alpha-only armies. Those were trained soldiers. Those were men who were loyal to their country, passed stringent psychological tests to apply. None of those men moved as freely as Hinata did, as the Raven did, not a flicker of guilt passing over his face. Kageyama shivered. The omega’s loyalty was not to his country – but to his family, his pack. And Kageyama had to wonder what had instilled this undying will.

It did something to the alpha, to see the enjoyment in the eyes of the omega. Something deep and dark and – warmed his cold beating heart.

The omega dropped his gun, and elbowed an advancing alpha in the stomach, twisting away from a punch, only to have to endure a strong kick to his thigh. Hinata groaned, but dodged the next blow as he staggered, muscle memory saving him. Avoiding the livid alpha that was attacking him, he stumbled over a limp body on the floor, then clenched fist to his face, took advantage of his stumble to spin. Spin and punch. It hit the unsuspecting alpha straight in the nose. Judging by the way the cartilage failed, and the bone crunched back – judging by the way blood waterfalled and the scream of pain that echoed…

…the man dropped to the floor, dead weight, occupied space.

There were only two men left, and Hinata wasn’t sure how many he’d dealt with, but as he holstered his empty gun and lifted both fists to deal with the two that were advancing, knives spun out from the empty window and lodged themselves in both men’s eyes.

From somewhere distant, above the throbbing of his heart he could hear someone saying, “Well done Iwa-chan! Your aim sucks, I said go for the kill. But looks like you beggars can’t ever be choosers.”

Ah. That someone was Oikawa.

Hinata spun, and he heard an intake of breath. His eyes, unfocused focused, and the two swam uncomfortably into view. Officer Iwaizumi looked shocked. Oikawa looked very pleased, and he stepped over the threshold. Hinata couldn’t see Kageyama but he didn’t care, he was in work mode now.

“Raven. Oh gods, look at you.” Oikawa grinned and laughed, “You’re covered in blood, again? Really? That’s like five times in the last month. I hope it’s good for the skin.”

It took a moment before Hinata smiled, it took a moment for the words to process in his brain, eyes darting from side to side searching for foreign, unwanted activity. Oikawa frowned, knowing just what this amount of chemicals could do in a brain regulated by fucked up hormones. He’d seen it before in his orange-haired brother.

“Yeah.” He sounded breathless, but he was breathing too much, gulping in air as his chest heaved – feeling like he was on fire in the best way possible, “Have the men been taken care on your side?”

“Yeah. Upper floors?”

Have they been checked?

“No.

People have come down; we haven ’t gone up.

“Activity?”

Have you seen anyone else? Heard from anyone else?

“No sign of upper echelons, no sign of other Corvids. No updates from Rook yet.”

It ’s been quiet. I think this is the main building for the lackies. Suga ’s gone to find the organisers. I haven ’t been contacted.

They understood the hidden meanings, the words they couldn’t say packed into the few they could. It was faster that way. It evolved that way.

Oikawa nodded, putting what now Hinata realised was a blood encrusted hand, to his hip and cocked it. Thinking. His body was still thrumming with whatever the drugs he’d taken via needle earlier, and his eyes were still blown slightly wide by its effects. Though Hinata’s body was humming by its own volition – and neither knew which was worse.

Kageyama dropped the alpha he was holding on the staircase and traipsed back down before he got to the second floor and engaged in whatever shit show was happening up there. Though, if anyone was still up there – they would’ve had to be deaf, even when he’d managed to get into the zone, he could still hear the screams of Hinata’s victims.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs and walked out – over bodies he’d taken care of – to the main room, he did not expect to see Iwaizumi and the other Raven, nor did he expect to see the Ravens engaged in a serious conversation. His colleague stood just inside, back to the wall, eyeing the duo and the surrounding area – lest anyone sneak up.

Ignoring the urge to walk over to the Ravens and ask the one he’d seen absolutely destroy six people in the space of fifteen minutes, if he was human, or indeed still sane, Kageyama joined Iwaizumi by the hole in the window.

“What did he have you do?” Kageyama asked, keeping his tone low, and his body angled away from the Ravens. His curiosity was bursting at the seams, he couldn’t wait until they got back to their office and were able to freely discuss the plethora of information they’d gained. Well, at least he’d gained. Iwaizumi turned a hard glare on him and shook his head. Still his superior. Kageyama scowled, “Fine. What did you two go do.”

Iwaizumi nodded, approvingly at the phrasing of the question, “Container yard –“ He nodded to the eyesores across the empty stretch of ground, “we found a few men hiding, trying to request backup from higher ups. No evidence of who. A few dead as well, from that sniper of theirs.”

Kageyama mirrored Iwaizumi, nodding, “What’s the sniper like?”

For the first time, Iwaizumi let out a small chuckle. The alphas didn’t notice how across the room, the omegas stilled and silenced themselves to watch this interaction. It was the first time they’d been able to truly observe the alphas in a semi-relaxed state – even if it was during a raid. Was that the difference between cops and gangs? Or maybe a similarity, though Hinata, looking at Oikawa’s satisfied smirk, eyes fixed on the two – or, Hinata squinted through his broiling emotions, maybe just the one shorter one.

Iwaizumi chuckled and kicked a piece of glass across the floor, “He’s good. He’s really good. Think of those containers, right? Two and half metres tall, anywhere between five and ten metres long, boxy as fuck. He’s not even in this compound – Raven said he’s situated on a tall apartment building across the street – but get this right? All headshots.”

“What? From that angle?” Had Kageyama had any less dignity and self-respect his jaw would’ve dropped.

“It’s a mindfuck.”

The room fell silent for a split second and in the second, the radio in Hinata and Oikawa’s ear crackled to life. They both stiffened and immediately their hands went to their ears, wincing slightly. The movement was not lost on the Officers, whose attention shifted instantly.

“Don’t slack off Ravens.” Kenma held a warning tone in his voice.

“What’s the go Rook?” Oikawa avoided the question, knowing that if he engaged, it would be wasting valuable time. Time they’d already been content wasting staring at the alpha’s conversation. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he cursed his omegan body.

“The upper floors are empty so don’t bother.” He didn’t elaborate, but Kenma knew he didn’t need to. The omegas knew they could trust him, “I haven’t been able to contact Crow-san, but from what I can see, Jay-kun needs help with the boat.”

“Has the unloading started?”

“No. There’s about fifteen people unaccounted for on the boat. I miscalculated.”

Hinata met Oikawa’s eyes, to find they were shining. The serious look on both their faces melted for a second into something close to enjoyment. Not glee, not mania, but contented joy. The shorter of the two spoke first, “Do you want us to help?”

“Yes.”

The line cut off with that final statement and Iwaizumi was the first to speak his mind, his confidence in addressing the taller Raven obviously having grown since the car ride. Though he still looked incredibly apprehensive about the smaller one, blood on his face, the congealing red making the wild honey-coloured eyes pop even more, filled with adrenalin. Kageyama, while not apprehensive, having seen worse done by that Raven – admittedly only once, but adapting concerningly fast, was more shocked by his superior’s blatant comment, “Where are we going next Raven.”

No inflection, but a hint of respect.

Oikawa nodded towards the bay, “Going to kick some more ass and get our hands on some pretty little weapons, of course.”

• ••

Ennoshita stood by the door, looking down the long corridor with hooded eyes, his apathetic mask plastered to his throbbing face. His brass knuckles clicked against the gun – he knew they weren’t a good combination, but when he had three alphas trying to get into the weapon room, he needed any help he could get.

He wasn’t sure where Officer Kyoutani was, nor Officer Asahi – but the bald-headed alpha he’d dealt with on Natsu’s raid, seemed happy to guard the weapons with him. But it was getting rough.

It was getting really rough.

“Jay, let me deal with these bastards.” Tanaka spat blood onto the ground, bruising up and down his ribs as he barrelled into a larger alpha, effectively tackling him to the ground. He would’ve been a brawled in his college days, Ennoshita distantly supposed.

But the omega shook his head at the comment, and lifted his gun to shoot at someone who had just took the corner at a run, not bothering to look around it, “Idiot, haven’t you ever worked in a team?”

“But you’re a –“

“If you even fucking say it’s because I’m an omega, I’ll shoot you.” His anger flared, Ennoshita had only recently become proud of his omegan status, only recently been able to come to terms with it. He did not need another fucking alpha getting on his ass, babying him, treating him like a fragile glass-blowing project about to break at the slightest inconvenience. He’d been raised like an alpha for fuck’s sake. He knew better than anyone how strong omegas could get, surely Officer Tanaka could get it through his thick skull after the training session today.

It was the first real display of emotion the Officer had seen, and a sadistic part in him wanted to keep pushing the omega’s buttons just to keep seeing that. But he didn’t, because he was learning to control himself and the inner alpha that spoke those poisonous words to him. So, he scratched the sentence he was going to say, Because, you’re an omega, and tried again, “But you’re guarding the door. You shouldn’t move. Otherwise, someone could slip inside and fuck this whole thing up.”

Ennoshita blinked at that rather well-put assessment of the situation and felt a smile nearly overcome his will to remain a blank face. Nearly.

One of the other advancing alphas, wary of the gun, was advancing slowly, placing himself behind Tanaka in the omega’s line of sight – knowing that Ennoshita wouldn’t shoot a shot he wasn’t sure of. And then he darted forward, past his comrade brawling with the baldy, to approach the relatively weak looking omega.

Boy, how wrong he was.

As soon as he came in range, Ennoshita’s fist was buried in the space between his rib cage and his organs, almost as if he was trying to directly punch the alpha’s lungs. But even if he couldn’t reach them, the effect was achieved as the breath left the alpha. Though, he was an alpha and that alpha was strong and Ennoshita knew it would take more than one well-placed punch to knock him out.

The last opponent in the corridor began to approach as the two guards were occupied. And Ennoshita cursed his carelessness, he should’ve just taken the shot. The gun slipped from his hands as he received a blow to the face, then returned it – brass knuckles glinting. A cut opened in the alpha’s face, complimented by quickly blossoming bruises.

“Gah.” The alpha stumbled and spat blood onto Ennoshita’s shoe. His shoe. His well-cared for, black boots, that he’d bought himself with his hard-earned money. The shoes that had served him since he joined the Corvids. Tipsy with rage. His next punch was heavier than it had ever been.

But Ennoshita wasn’t prepared for the blow to the back.

The third alpha, whom Ennoshita had been too preoccupied to notice curling up and around, who he’d thought would’ve slunk straight into the room he was supposed to be guarding snapped a hand to the back of his neck and pushed his face into the plywood front of the metal hull. The omega groaned as pain erupted in his forehead, tingling over his skull, as blood dripped down his nose. It took over him and he slumped to the ground, the snarls echoing.

Suga had warned them about this. About how easy it was for an alpha to overcome you once you show any signs of weakness. How as soon as your facade breaks, their scents will become even stronger, how your emotions will let them harm you. How the best thing to face an alpha with is apathy – in your face, in your heart. That’s how Ennoshita did it. Tadashi faced them with resentment. Hinata faced them with rage, but he wasn’t badly affected by scents, unable to smell them, he wasn’t affected by alphas anymore. And Oikawa was bonded, and he faced them with hatred boiling from the pits of whatever trauma he had experienced.

Ennoshita’s eyes fluttered from where he lay slumped, distantly feeling kicks to his stomach, and an outraged cry by what seemed to be the bald-headed alpha. Weakly he tried to move, get to his feet, tried to push himself out of range. This had happened before – at other raids, it was rare when they all came back without injuries, but this was bad. Normally he shadowed Suga, normally he took care of the clean-up – but this, this was different. Dangerous. Alphas surrounding him. Scents clogging his nose. He could deal with this much, but there wasn’t even lust in their stares, just malice. And somehow that hurt him even more.

There was a brief moment of reprieve, when he felt the kicks to his stomach stop, and with that split second of rest, he didn’t allow himself to panic. He didn’t allow any emotion through. In the moment of crisis, he was calm – even through the throbbing pain of his ribs and his stomach and his heartbeat in his head, and on wobbling legs he pulled himself to his feet. He forced his eyes to focus.

For some reason he saw Hinata – even though he could see two mops of orange hair, even though they blurred in front of his eyes – he could make out that orange blur anywhere. And he could see Oikawa. And there were two more Officers holding Tanaka back as his brothers beat up the alphas who had touched him.

The acrid ginger scent that Ennoshita could only recognise as Hinata’s filled the room as the man sat on top of the alpha, slamming his head into the ground. Even when the cracking of the skull turned into crunching, even when blood pooled – Hinata didn’t stop. Just kept on whispering, “How dare you. How dare you touch my fucking family.”

Shaking. His eyes were alive with fire.

“How dare you touch him. How dare you. How dare you. How dare you.”

His arms were shaking from exertion. The alpha was barely breathing.

Ennoshita slid his eyes over to where Oikawa was handling the other alpha, knowing there were only two people locked in combat, even though he saw four.

Oikawa was also having trouble controlling his scent, distress etched into his tense shoulders, face alight with anger and rage. His hands were both clenching knives and he had pinned the alpha to the wall, quaffed hair bouncing as he smiled manically at the alpha. The knives were etching runes into the alpha’s flushed skin, quickly coated with thin lines of red oozing blood.

This alpha was much more awake, Oikawa had more self-control than Hinata.

“Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking omega gang. You’ll get what’s coming to you. Boss will have you tied down, when he catches you, you’re going to be fucked. He said he’s going to fuck you so hard you’ll be begging for knots. You won’t be able to move. He’ll let us all have turns on your whore body. Don’t think I don’t know who you are pathetic little defector.”

Oikawa cocked an eyebrow, trying so hard not to slit his throat right there and then, “Oh?”

He plunged his knife into the crook of the alphas left elbow, watching him scream. Then without taking the knife out began to wiggle it inside. The scream sent shivers up his spine in glorious control, “I don’t you’re in the FUCKING POSITION to be talking to me. You should be begging.”

“Like how you begged?” The alpha managed to retort through gritted teeth, groaning at the end. Sagging as Oikawa edged the knife in his left elbow a little bit deeper. Screaming again, “You fucking – sadistic bastard!”

“Beg. Get on your knees and beg and maybe I’ll make your death quick. You fucked with the wrong people. You should’ve known fucking better than to mess with us.”

“I’ll never beg –“ He was cut off by his own scream as Oikawa plunged the knife in his right hand, the one that was still trailing, as he plunged it into the crook of the alpha’s right elbow.

Oikawa leaned in, too caught up in his own rage and instincts to protect, to destroy, to notice Iwaizumi’s stare, to notice Kageyama’s limp jaw catching flies, to notice Tanaka’s bruised and bloody face. All he saw was the arrogant glare of the alpha and he wanted to destroy it. So he leant in until his mouth was a hair’s width away from touching that alpha’s ear, “Hiroshi, don’t think I don’t know you’re there. Don’t think that I don’t know what you did to me, who you sold me to. I’m going to hunt you down, I’m going to make you fucking pay if it’s the last thing I do.”

And then Oikawa pulled the ear piece from the alpha’s ear, and held it to his own. The alpha could only stare, arms limp, knives still stuck in them, tendons, ligaments cut and torn. Blood collected at the ends of his fingertips, but all he could do was wiggle them, itching to rid himself of the pain and the disgusting tickle of his own warm liquid on the wrong side of his skin.

“Ah hello, Tooru-chan, the Boss misses you, you know. I miss you too. Do you miss me?”

“Bastard I would never. The only thing I miss is wrapping my hands around your fucking throat and watching you spasm underneath me.” Oikawa spat.

He didn’t even take into account how everyone’s eyes were on him. How he was communicating with one of the perpetrators, how he knew them. The curiosity that bubbled beneath Iwaizumi’s skin felt more than just professional – he could feel the tinges of jealousy, or possessiveness.

Hinata had broken free of his stupor when Ennoshita reached out and touched his arm – “That’s enough. He’s dead. Long dead. I’m okay Hi-Raven. Really. We need to unload the boat. And –“

“Wha..?” Hinata rasped, head reeling as took in his surroundings. All he had felt in the last few minutes was hatred and anger and all he saw was a face and red and that face had kicked Ennoshita and how he’d wanted to kill the man who had hurt his family. He looked down at his hands – saw them coated with the alphas blood, focuses his eyes on the face, saw the burst eyeballs and the little bit of the jelly substance stuck under his fingernails. He saw the white bone crushed, “Oh. Shit.”

Ennoshita didn’t comment. Hinata just nodded, then wiped his hands on his pants, and stood – albeit shakily. Reaching a slightly cleaner hand down, he helped Ennoshita to his feet as well and took stock of the injuries, “Can you still help? Or do you want to go back.”

The alphas were shocked by Hinata’s cool and calm statement after such a violent display. Suddenly Tanaka had a lot more respect for omegas, even if his head swum with anger at the way Jay had been treated. How he’d been unable to fulfill his alphan desire to protect, to enact revenge. What Kageyama had floating in his stomach, wasn’t respect, it was awe, it was the first tingling’s of arousal that he refused to note – because fuck who knew an omega could be that strong, who knew slim and dainty looking hands could cause that much destruction. He’d never wanted an omegan partner, purely because he thought they would just stay at home and leach, that they would be weak, deep in his heart – never to admit he had thought that omegas were only useful for making babies, but now. Every single thought he’d had was blown out of the window. Because this orange-haired, blood stained and coated omega, with fierce energy in his eyes and a stubbornness that was probably only outmatched by his own, had proved him very, very, very wrong.

Ennoshita pushed a shaking hand to his head, shook it gently, and nodded – “I can help. If someone is okay to accompany me, I’ll start the branding. Has anyone seen Officers Asahi and Kyoutani?”

“We passed them on the way here. They were dealing with a group of five –“

“Sorry we’re late.” Asahi rounded the corner, puffing, and nearly got shot by Iwaizumi, whose gun had been at the ready ever since Tanaka had calmed down enough for him and Kageyama to let him go.

Kyoutani narrowed his eyes at Oikawa but the omega didn’t say anything back, didn’t even acknowledge him – just kept his hand to his ear, ear piece hovering. He was listening to something, eyebrows knitted together but eyes wide.

Hinata was torn but only for a second, “Jay, before you begin the clean-up, we need to unload. I’m taking Raven away for a while.”

There was no need to ask why.

“Can you instruct the Officers on what needs to be done? I think Rook is online, and if Magpie has finished his work, maybe call him over.”

Ennoshita nodded, but swayed, and immediately Officer Tanaka and Officer Asahi were by his side, steadying him with gently grips to the elbows, unsure of how much physical touch he was okay with. In their work they’d seen some touch-starved but also touch-avoidant omegas so had grown wary of how much they were to give.

Hinata pulled Oikawa away, off down the corridor. Until the voices faded slightly. The latter was shaking, and it wasn’t from exertion, or adrenalin.

“– Say what would happen if I was to hurt your friends? Would you like that Tooru-chan, huh? Big Boss wants to see you so much, if you don’t come back who knows what he might do. Pretty little omegas like you don’t get to decide what they do. And being a defector only paints a bigger target on your back you know.”

“Shut up Hiroshi. Put me up on a wanted list for fucks sake but don’t harm a hair on my friend’s head, or I swear to God…”

“What? What will you do?” The man’s voice on the other end went from mocking to demeaning, and Oikawa could imagine Hiroshi’s cold face twisting with malice and unbridled joy, “What good can an omega like you do? Why did you even put this ear piece on if all you’re going to do is argue? If you want to argue come back home, so we can at least make some profit of a struggling omega. Clients pay a lot for that.”

Oikawa felt a tear slip down his cheek, and his strength began to crumble as memories, unbidden, unwanted flew through his minds eyes, “I’m not going back to that shitty rut house. You will never be able to sell my body again.”

He took a deep breath and felt Hinata’s hand on his arms, for the second time again that day, the other’s presence calmed him, comforted him, reminded him he wasn’t alone, “I’m going to find you Hiroshi, and I’m going to make you regret everything you’re ever done – to every omega you’ve stolen. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were dead. YOU HEAR ME? WATCH YOUR BACK YOU BASTARD BECAUSE I’M COMING FOR YOU.”

Oikawa crushed the ear piece in his fist and sunk to the floor, “Fuck me.”

“Was that Hiroshi?” Hinata kept his voice low, and his tone flat. His internal anger was only apparent by his crossed arms, and the indents his nails left on them.

“Yes. God, they want me back. I can’t go back.” He was seconds away from sobbing.

Hinata knelt beside him, and uncrossed his arms to place his hands palms up on Oikawa’s knees. The latter watched the formed clench and unclench each one, like lazy blinking. Hinata watched Oikawa’s breathing even out to the rhythm of his movements, and when he felt the other omega was calm enough to be addressed, he spoke in a quiet voice, making sure he could not be overheard, “Oikawa.”

His head snapped up, and his wide eyes met Hinata calm, steady gaze, mania drizzling out of the pupils, to be replaced with the comforting look Oikawa knew he needed.

“We’re going to finish this raid; we’re going to help the omega’s we’ve rescued. We’re going to continue teaming up with this detective unit. We’re going to find Hiroshi, find your bondmates. And I’m going to beat the crap out of them for doing this shit to you, okay?”

Oikawa giggled and Hinata reciprocated.

It was unrealistic, but in that moment, it was what Oikawa needed.

“I think I need another shot.”

“Yeah nah, fuck off. You’re really pushing it.” Hinata stood, and held out a hand, helping Oikawa stand, just as he did Ennoshita moments earlier, “You’re strong, man. I think you can go without the drugs.”

“Fuck you.”

Hinata rolled his eyes, but he knew what it meant. Thank you, again, for helping me.

“Fuck you too.”

Thank you for accepting me despite my fucked-up past.

Oikawa’s face collapsed into a smirk, and he ruffled Hinata’s hair as they walked back to help Ennoshita and the rest of them unload.

Of course, Shoyou, we ’re brothers.

• ••

Cold metallic cuffs cut into the alpha’s hands as Suga dragged him out into the bright artificial light. The moon was dimmed by the harshness of it, and the salt spray blocked out the stars. Suga’s eyes didn’t even reflect the light as he glared down at the man – the organiser behind this docking, this smuggling of the weapons.

Behind him, he could feel the stares of his subordinates, carrying the weapons to the vans Officer Asahi had brought over. Their Captain Daichi stood to the side of him, thick arms folded, observing. Had Suga been any calmer he would’ve found the stares disconcerting, but instead he just glared down, lips pressed thin as the alpha shook with mirthless laughter.

“Didn’t you hear me, Crow?”

“Repeat what you just said.”

There were gasps behind him. Suga didn’t turn, eyes fixed on the alpha. Anger curled in his stomach and his scent begged to be released. The alpha in front of him chuckled again, with nothing but hate in the sounds, “I said, your Majesty, that you’re not the only one who knows how to hold people hostage.”

The slap rang through the empty night, cutting the gasps and the small whimpers from whoever was behind him in half. Suga took a fistful of the man’s hair and dragged the man up until he was only inches away from the omega’s face. The red handprint was only a little less than a brand across his face, smarting. Suga’s hand stung. And he was quivering with suppressed fury.

“Don’t you ever, ever call me that.”

“Turn around, and we’ll see whose really in the position to negotiate here, Crow.”

Suga turned, and Daichi did as well, and Suga dropped the man he was holding by the hair, barely hearing the smack of the man’s face against the ground – the alpha unable to catch himself with his cuffed hands.

There, framed by the bright light, framed by the emptiness around them and the stillness in everyone else but the dragging of lungs in them, stood Tadashi – knife held to his throat, beads of blood collecting.

“You make one wrong move and this brat dies.” The person holding him snarled, face partially covered by a white bandana. Suga recognised that. The Officers who were loading the car stopped loading the car and froze as the person spun – with Tadashi in tow – to face them as well, “Don’t come a step closer or he will die.”

Tadashi couldn’t move, his lungs drawing breaths as shallowly as he could, trying not to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth because then his Adam’s apple would bob and the knife would cut and the blood. The blood. Oh fuck, his head spun. Where was his gun? What had Suga told them about situations like this. Oh. That was right.

He dug a heel into the man’s foot and drew his elbow back to dig into the alpha’s side. Tadashi barely avoided the knife as he lifted his foot to kick back into the man’s groin, and twisted out of the loosened grip. Not looking back, trying to get away –

“TADASHI!” He heard someone scream, heard Hinata scream from far away. Tadashi had only just focused his eyes on his screaming friend when – “LOOK OUT!”

Blackness devoured him.

Which was odd for a brightly lit area.

He hit the dusty ground and briefly wondered why.

Chapter Text

“TADASHI!”

The name slipped out, just as the man slumped, knife buried just below his ribs. The alpha behind him smirked in sadistic glee, “What are you g–“

He was interrupted by Suga, tackling him to the ground, the omega completely throwing off the weight and power imbalance genetically caused by their secondary genders with the sheer amount of righteous, protective, all-consuming fury emanating from him. He felt like Hinata often looked, and his scent started to leak. Tendrils, harsh slapping wafts of honeysuckle, followed by punches of some sweet laundry detergent turned sour by fear and anger. The alpha choked on the intensity, and Suga’s hands clasped around his neck.

His irises began to darken, and his fingers pushed deep bruises into the fragile neck – because all necks were fragile, when hate pulsed in his veins.

And yet despite so intently focusing on the man in front of him, he was also aware of the alphas’ eyes. He was aware of Hinata running, tripping, sprinting, stumbling over the dusty ground towards them, he was aware of Ennoshita leaning on an Officer’s shoulder pushing away only to be caught before he slumped forwards, blood trickling. He was aware of Oikawa standing stock still, trembling, knife in hand, eyes ablaze. But most of all he could feel the Officers’ Captain staring at him, the hard, intense gaze eating him alive, burning into his back. Suga felt his heart throb and he wanted to do something horrifying to punish them, to show everyone, everyone present, that he was not to be taken lightly. That fucking hell, who cared if he was an omega – he was not to be pitied, put down, underestimated.

“You’re lucky I’m angry.” He hissed, leaning over the alpha’s blotched face, hands not lessening the pressure – only increasing. Spit bubbled at the man’s lips, and Suga could feel the Adam’s apple bob against his hands, as he tried desperately to swallow, to gasp, to breathe. But it wasn’t the time for the man to be fighting. No. Fuck him. Fuck the sadistic cunt that dared lay a hand on Tadashi.

So he increased the pressure.

Watched the way the skin stretched taut under his fingers.

Felt the tendons and ligaments of the alphas neck shift in his iron grip.

The Corvid gang was not to be taken lightly. His family was not to be hurt. They would protect themselves, and they  would always, always get revenge. Red hot anger burst in his tunnel vision and his arms shook with exertion, he felts his pupils dilate even more and his scent grew in staccato beats.

“You’re lucky I’m angry.” He repeated, watching the alphas eyes roll back into his head. The mans limbs stopped shifted frantically under him, and his face — purple from the lack of oxygen began to twitch incessantly. And just as the alpha was about to escape the pain into the sweet lull of unconsciousness…

…Suga snapped his neck.

The crack echoed, pulsated throughout the empty docking yard. He put his head back and sighed, then released his hold. Pushing off the warm body – already starting to stiffen, he stood shakily. Refused to look anyone in the eyes, turning only to collapse at Tadashi’s side, where Hinata already was, hands pressed shakily to stop the flow of blood. The knife was still buried, but neither removed it – to removed it would only widen the path for the blood to escape. They needed to get him to their hospital, quickly.

His scent began to widen its reach, and Hinata visibly recoiled. Honeysuckle was a potent enough scent as it was, but in his anger, and his weird inconsistencies, Suga knew all too well how dangerous it could be. But he couldn’t recall it, panic etching at his chest as he saw the blood. Where was the first aid kit? What could he do with the alphas watching them so intently? He had to lead, he had to keep his family’s secrets under tight wraps – because god knows what would happen if any of the authorities got a hold of them. It would –

“Crow,” Hinata’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Your scent. Don’t arouse suspicion. Control it. We’re here to help as well, you don’t have to do everything.”

“Thanks.” Suga whispered back. His shaky hands stilled as they touched Tadashi’s body gently, peach tints of skin disappearing in red stains, “I…”

“Crow.” Oikawa had walked up, his face dark, his eyes not meeting anyone’s. Rage was written into every tense muscle of his body, and through his suppressants and hazy drugs, both Suga and Hinata could catch a hint of smoke, like that of dumpster fire. Suga didn’t make an effort to speak over him – the omega was clearly struggling to hold it together, “Take Jay and Magpie to our hospital, treat them care for them. I know you want to. We’ll take over here, do the clean-up, and suspects for interrogation. You know the drill.”

Suga nodded, somewhat shakily, emotion threatened to drown him, panic threatened to envelop him. In times like these, he could never stay calm, in times like these he was glad for his brothers – they’d seen more than he had in this area, their hearts were slightly harder, resolves slightly stronger. He was angry and he was shit scared of what could happen, but he’d be fucked if he let his family get hurt on his hands – so he slipped his arms under Tadashi’s limp body – trying to ignore the way he slumped, lifeless, and staggered off.

The alphas had snapped into action. Daichi now had his hands fisting the cuffed alpha’s hair – preventing his once attempted and now future escape. The Captains expression was unreadable, but his shoulders shook — in reaction to a subtle tendril of scent Crow had failed to recall in time. It was potent and addictive and he wanted to smell it again. It was – oh so familiar. Where had he smelt this before?

Tanaka, who was supporting a quickly fading Ennoshita, had started to take him to the van they had arrived in. The rest were finishing with the loading of the other large black van, and seeing Crow struggling, Asahi and Kyoutani rushed to help. The latter’s prickly nature didn’t extend so far to let someone die on his watch. And Asahi was professionally trained, so needless to say he ran forward, finally comfortable in his field of expertise, in the uncertainty of another person’s life, and the certainty that he could help. They assisted Crow in laying Magpie across the back seat, but were growled at when they tried to help Tanaka. The latter alpha was careful with the omega he carried, and in his haste, distantly, through his tunnel vision, Suga was grateful.

Meanwhile, Kageyama and Iwaizumi stood off to the side, both sets of eyes fixated on the spot Suga and Tadashi had just left, fixated on Hinata and Oikawa’s bodies, and that of the now dead alpha. While not helping, it was clear they had helped, panting heavily, blood dusting their knuckles and bruises growing on respective parts of their bodies. Guns empty of bullets. Tactical knives losing their silver under skins of red. And the omegas they watched were worse, but yet they still moved with freedom. Muscles shifting, eyes never staying in one spot for long. The alphas watched with blatant curiosity, observing. For not the first, and not the last time – they stared openly.

Oikawa was twirling his knife in his hand, and Hinata was tossing his into the air, silver tip over matte black end, before catching it. They squatted beside the body, it’s head lolling to the side — held only by skin and torn muscle, maybe a ligament or two. Hinata didn’t watch the body, but kept his eyes on the dark shadows thrown by the shipping containers, and the dark shadows behind every person.

“First thing’s first, we need to leave a message.” Came Oikawa’s words, before he plunged his knife into the alpha’s abdomen, ripping the skin, and dragging it down. Warm blood spilled over onto his hands as the skin and flesh cut smoothly beneath the blade. Harsh scents of coppery blood filled his nose and it was all he could do to indulge in the scent. His own scent raged beneath the surface of his skin, and even through his suppressants he could feel his scent glands swelling slightly in anger. They always did that on an influx of hormones while under suppressants.

Hinata could only frown, “I wish he was alive. Imagine how he’d scream.”

“Well Boss was angry. And he probably wanted to make an example of him.” Oikawa pulled his knife up and dipped his other hand into the pit of blood. His fingers brushed against something circular and round, and hard – what felt like muscle, but what he knew was not. Small intestine. Then, “Ah – large intestine. I wonder what he ate last, he’s a bit bloated.”

Hinata tossed his knife again and glanced over to where the Captain was standing. Daichi was only staring, shocked and probably appalled at what he saw. Two omegas playing around with a fresh corpse from where yet another omega had freshly snapped his neck. Hinata giggled at what usually would’ve been an absurd thought, if not for the fact that he was participating in that exact scenario. He’d never thought this was possible until after that incident, well series of incidents. He basked in the expression.

And then his eyes settled on the cuffed leader by Daichi’s side, and his giggling stopped. His smile slipped. His frown settled into an expression of utter hatred, contempt. Not even aware of what he was doing, Hinata’s feet dragged him from Oikawa’s side – that omega was currently writing something on the ground in ink, which could only be described as the alpha’s blood. Before he could process it, Hinata was standing in front of the Captain, looking up at him.

He’d forgotten how his face was painted with blood. How the fresh blood on his fingers mixed with the older crusty blood from his knuckles, where he’d punched a bit too hard. How his eyes glittered from the red mask, alive with electricity.

Daichi didn’t know what to do. The omega just stared up at him silently, with an expression the Captain couldn’t piece together for the life of him. The blood didn’t help.

And then the omega smiled, and his face split to white teeth and and white skin that red blood cracked slightly to reveal, and Daichi was caught between wondering if that hurt and the sheer whiplash of the contrasting images. Bright sunshine smile.

“Captain, I’m going to need to trouble you and your men to help us with the clean up here, seeing as three of our crew are currently tied up in other matters.” Hinata’s bright smile tightened as his mouth tripped over the last words. Even so, he addressed the Captain with respect and even dipped his head. Yet, throughout the display of respect the omega’s eyes did not once break their shared gaze – respect, but not trust.

Daichi could only incline his head, as his thoughts refused to be controlled. How, just how –? What had happened to them to make them this ruthless? People weren’t just born ready to kill, instincts were only dictated by the mindset and the heart of the person of which they lay. And how, just how did they manage to overpower each and every single alpha that walked in their way? Why, how, just how –?

“Of course, we can help.” Another voice interrupted, and they both turned to see the tall dark head of hair that could only belong to Kageyama, a slight sneer on his shadowed face (the harsh artificial light harshening their shadows to razor edges). It drew an odd parallel to the shock in his eyes, “One of your men just got stabbed. We may be on opposite sides of the law, but we’re not inhuman.”

Not like you just were.

Kageyama didn’t have to think at all to recall the image of Hinata’s small, slender fingers wedged into an alpha’s eye sockets, banging the man’s skull onto the ground. Didn’t have to try to remember the whispers the omega had tried to shove into a fallen’s ear, whispers that had instead wiggled their way into his.

“Oh, I think we’re very much on the same side.” Hinata gave him an odd smile, and his gaze flicked briefly over to the lone building in the docking yard. Kageyama swallowed, opened his mouth to retort but was waved off by the painted, stained man. The omega turned to the Captain.

“Mr. Captain.” Because like Suga, and the rest of the Corvids that had had the pleasure of interacting with the alpha, Hinata refused to allow the prospect of miscommunication inflating the man’s pride to think that he was calling him Captain. No, he was just Mr Captain – if at all, more of an insult. He brushed off the thought absentmindedly and ran his fingers through his hair. How was he to put this? “I need you and your men to follow my orders without question, okay? Without hesitation. What we are about to do is probably more dangerous than what just happened.”

For us or for them? Daichi couldn’t help think, tongue still stuck to the roof of his mouth watching a flake of blood peel itself from Hinata’s cheek. Kageyama also stared at the phenomenon. They nodded dumbly.

“Raven.” A demand for his brothers’ attention. He could feel his blood starting to boil and his heart rate was increasing again. A haze and an urge to revenge Tadashi reared itself inside of him. He had to stem the effects, and only one person knew how. To Hinata the conversation was over, for the others not so much –

“What do you want us to do? How can we trust you won’t be breaking the law?” Kageyama took a step forwards, semi-defensively. His hand went up to lay on the omega’s shoulder – but it never got there.

For as he did, two things happened, nearly simultaneously.

Oikawa leapt from the dead alpha, fingers dripping in blood, but clasped around the hilt of his knife and lunged for Kageyama – aiming for the throat. And Iwaizumi, seeing this, lunged towards his colleague, aiming to block with his gun. The alpha and the omega clashed, and Oikawa let out a growl that didn’t reach the bottom of his lungs – for the growls of omegas never did – but bore a warning all the same.

“Don’t touch him.” Oikawa stepped back as Kageyama fell onto his back foot, surprise plastered. Iwaizumi also relaxed but kept himself at the ready, “Can’t you see? If you touch him, he’ll kill you.”

Hinata held the same manic, dark and dangerous energy and his eyes – intense were fixated on a spot in the distance. Only then did the alphas realise how heavily he was breathing. They began to back away, but Oikawa stayed rooted. And then he did something the alphas had never seen before, he whined and presented his neck then dipped his head and stepped closer. Submission, passivity.

The orange-haired man remained stock still, nostrils flaring.

“C’mon Raven. You’re making me embarrass myself.” Oikawa muttered to the man, “Control yourself, it’s just your instincts.”

Hinata slowly focused in on his surroundings and became aware of how he’d blacked out for a second, how he’d nearly, came so very close to losing it. And his eyes widened in shock and surprise, “Oh fuck, I nearly did it. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He clapped a hand to his mouth and his hands grabbed Oikawa’s shoulders. Oikawa wrapped his arms around him, not minding of how the entire alpha crew looked as if they were about to all go into cardiac arrest at the sight. Hugging while covered in other people’s blood must’ve been a jarring sight. But to the omegas it was completely natural. Oikawa rubbed Hinata’s back until he felt pressure against his fingertips and let the younger go – “Ya know chibi, if you fall out on me, I may just have to go batshit along with you and kill all these freaks. You feeling better?”

“Mm. Shit. I fucking hate hormones.” He murmured into Oikawa’s shoulder — height difference apparent as the other stooped.

Oikawa laughed and slapped him on the back, causing Hinata to nearly double over at the force. The smaller glared up at the taller.

“It’s a given chibi. A given.” He gave a small rueful smile to Hinata and then spun on his heel dramatically to address everyone. Oikawa wasn’t joking when he told Suga that he would take over – his natural charisma and as Hinata thought to himself, ability to pull perfectly good plans straight out of his ass, drew people to him, “Listen up fuckers, we have an hour before the people on the other end of this gang know something’s up. In that time, we need to load hostages, brand the alive and leave cute little messages behind seeing as our graffiti artist is out and about.”

Asahi, Kyoutani, Tanaka, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and Daichi all stared at him. That is until the man that Daichi held squirmed and the direness of the situation set in to the Captain.

“All right,” He roared, for the first time since meeting the Corvids using his alphan register. Hinata and Oikawa flinched, but the words were not directed to them, so that’s all they did, “You heard him.” He remembered the nod he’d given the other Raven a minute or so earlier, and nearly shook his own, “We have work to do. Let’s go!”

“Can you handle the branding?” Oikawa muttered to Hinata, “If I give you the hostages, I think you might just kill them.”

“Ah..” The omega smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. He turned away from Oikawa and began to walk towards Maddog and Tanaka – who were taking a briefcase from the front seat of the first black van.

Gods Magpie, how many back-up briefcases did you pack?  The thought left as quickly as it came, and the dread for his friend’s life settled over his mind again, reminding him of why Oikawa was in such a rush. And next, to swallow the dread came a new surge of rage, “You know me too well, Raven. I’ll settle for the branding.”

• ••

Suga got to their home hospital in record time. There was no way he could go to an actual hospital, not when Tadashi lay across the back seat of the car, knife hilt sticking out just below his ribs, not when Ennoshita sat slumped over the dash in the front seat, groaning softly against the warm heat of the car and warmer trickle of blood that forced its way from his scalp.

He was frantic. And yet, calm.

He felt every emotion and no emotion. It was a frightening but familiar sensation.

Pulled in to the warehouse, stopping the car as gently as he could – not wanting to throw his bleeding friend from the safety of the upholstery to the floor of the car, Suga opened the door with shaking hands, slamming it behind him. His whole body was shaking, and he was struggling to control the panic that struck his throat, but there was no time to think about himself. No. No. Not now.

Lights flooded the large empty space. Natsu rushed from the room where he had bathed, sorted and washed the little saved omega’s just two days before, her training outfit having been swapped out for a more homely look – singlet and no-nonsense slacks. It was as homely as Suga allowed her to dress in this warehouse. He had told her to always be prepared, because it’s when you feel the safest is your guard more likely to be dropped, and your exposed vulnerable self, attacked. One should always be ready to run.

“Tsu’.” He gasped, reverting to her age-old nickname. Natsu saw the way his eyes widened, and his normally minimal, precise and graceful movements were frantic and jagged and she ran. She ran, because this was not normal, and the scent that leaked from her brother was far from the normal freshness – acrid, sour and suffocating – full of fear, “’Tsu, it’s Magpie and Jay. They’re – we need to get them beds.”

The smaller person of their malnourished new recruit appeared as well, twisting his fingers in the doorway.

“Um.., Crow. I’ll clear some beds.” His voice was shaky when raised, but as he turned to prepare, there was a surety in his steps.

And Nishinoya was reliable. When Natsu and Suga stumbled in holding a limp Tadashi in their arms, two beds – away from the rest of the small omegas – had been cleared.

Ennoshita was next to brought in, semi conscious and leaning on Nishinoya’s small malnourished frame. He groaned with each step they took, arms wrapped around his stomach. Nishinoya carefully lay him in the unoccupied bed — watching as Suga and Natsu began to strip Tadashi, watching the sluggish blood pulsate around the knife. His stomach rolled, as he turned his attention back to Ennoshita.

The omega was lying curled up, arms around his stomach, breathing even but shallow. Asleep but not safe — a drop could happen at anytime. Nishinoya felt his face pale as the thought crossed his mind. Caged in that facility for god knows how long (the previous night Suga had broke it to him that he’d probably been there for a few months), he’d watched many omega drop… fallen because of blood loss, shock, panic… never to wake up. No, he would let that happen to his saviours.

So he looked to the pups on the other side of the room who gazed at him with wide, scared but also curious eyes and he gestured to them. Recognised as their unofficial leader, a few of the braver ones, stronger ones, newer ones scampered off the beds and across the floor.

A little girl with once matted now simply tangled pigtails, was the first to reach him, and her whisper was soft. Her eyes trailed to where Natsu was pulling curtains shut around Tadashi’s bed, the glint of Suga’s hair lost behind opaque white material, “What happened?”

He didn’t know the details. And it was against his personality to lie.

“I’m not sure,” Nishinoya opened his arms, and pulled the little omegan girl close to him, rubbing his head atop hers. After sitting in the cages for days, weeks on end – touch starvation ran rampant, and the need for his omegan brothers and sisters sizzled in his blood. He pulled back and looked at the small sparkle of worry in the girl’s eyes, “But I know they were trying to take down the people that stole us in the first place. We know them.”

“Mm.” She nodded, and Nishinoya took note of another girl, not much younger than him limping over. A young man, barely past his pup stage – crawled onto Ennoshita’s bed, sniffing.

He recoiled, “He’s hurt. His scent hurts.”

The boys voice was hoarse from disuse, but the eldest could hear the crack in it. Noya took the boy’s hand, and placed it gently on Ennoshita’s shoulder – the one that seemed the least bruised, “They were protecting us. We need to give back. Do you reckon you’re strong enough to nest?”

The young man nodded excitedly – ok, maybe he was still a pup, bits of broken youth shining as his hair flicked to up to fully reveal his face. Noya ruffled his hair excitedly, and grinned back. The little girl that had wrapped her arms around his waist began to purr, and her low murmurs took on a quality of roughened diamond. A singer in the making, Noya’s brain tripped from one topic to the next.

“Crow-senpai is always so nice when he comes in to buy clothes from Auntie’s. I don’t want his friend to get hurt.”

“Well little one,” Nishinoya used what little strength he’d regained to hoist the positively featherweight child onto his lap. As she settled, she lifted scarred fingers to play with his blond bangs. He wondered which alpha had taken it upon themselves to toy with her, “Do you want to nest with Jay-san and your friends?”

With no hesitation, she clambered onto the young man that had lain down beside Ennoshita, giggling as the omega groaned, and sighing as he wrapped his arms around her. The other girl with the limp also lay down beside Ennoshita – on the other side, careful not to touch and aggravate his wounds. And more omegas joined. Some yipped at Nishinoya to carry them across, too weak to walk themselves over, but instincts too strong to resist. And the pile of bodies grew bigger, each chest shifting evenly. Skin against skin, creating a protective circle around the wounded omega in the middle, a quiet ring of space around his wounds. But his feet – unharmed noted a tiny pup loudly – with lungs the half the size of her body, and so they were smothered. His hands – bruised, but otherwise unharmed, smothered with touch. His hair was threaded through by multiple fingers, quickly skipping over the wound on his head to find purchase on a unmarred bit of scalp.

Nishinoya’s heart could have burst with pride.

Looking down at the pile around his new colleague, he felt as if he’d done something right. For once.

And now, his head turned towards the area that had been cordoned off by curtain, the area that whimpers echoed from, and curses carried. Nishinoya swallowed, detached himself from the clutches of one particularly stubborn hand, lifted himself from the bed and with trembling hands pulled the curtain back, only to reveal –

- Blood.

A whole fucking lot of blood.

There was so much blood. And all of a sudden, he was back there. Back in that god awful cage. Shivering. Eyes burning. Lungs screaming. Muscles aching. He could smell the coppery scent. The scent of distress. The scent of shit, and urine and fear, pure unadulterated fucking fear. There was so much blood.

His legs couldn’t hold him. Curl up, protect yourself. His thoughts threatened to overflow, tears threated to choke him. All of a sudden, he could feel the cold metal against his back, he could hear the laughs and the jeers. Taste the bile rising – then and now. He couldn’t trust his body. He couldn’t hold himself on his own legs.

Nishinoya fell back into the warm embrace of the orange haired omega he’d come to know over the course of the day as Natsu.

“Noya-san?” She whispered, breath tickling his ear.

It was that action that brought him out of it. He blinked once, twice, and then realised his face was wet and the blood came from a body that was still alive – still alive. Tadashi’s still alive. He could see the chest moving. There was no drop, he hadn’t stopped. There was hope. Nishinoya swallowed. Natsu visibly relaxed (she saw how her brother got, losing himself to his instincts, to the hormones that raged unsteady in his system). Nishinoya swallowed again, mouth dry, eyes focusing on the blood.

His hands shook. But he collected himself. Steadied himself. Still alive. Hope.

“I want to help. Let me help you save him.”

From where he stood, arms covered in Tadashi’s blood, shining point of needled perched against bruising skin – Suga looked up and smiled gently. His pupils were blown, and his irises were shifting colours softly, going from his normal warm brown to a quiet black. Despite the fire in his eyes, his voice was surprisingly calm, “Of course. Natsu will guide you.”

• ••

“FUCKING HELL. THAT IDIOT, WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING. ” Hinata slammed his fist down on the car door, feeling alone without Oikawa by his side, feeling angry at the blatant disrespect the hostages had shown him and only him for his secondary gender, “I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all.”

None of the alphas in the van moved. He wasn’t truly alone, but he was the only omega. Kageyama sat next to him, not entirely shocked by his outbursts anymore, but shocked at the volume to which this one rose. All his interactions with the smaller man had shown him whispering, speaking lowly in dangerous tones of molten fury – but this was loud, chaotic, much like his driving.

Officers Kyoutani, Asahi and Tanaka sat in the back as well, spread out amongst the loaded boxes of scent weapons – Oikawa, the Captain Daichi and Officer Iwaizumi had taken the other ‘fuller’ van. Oikawa driving, of course. The alphas that sat in the back of his van however, didn’t say a thing, forgoing their usually extroverted, angry tendencies to instead be incredibly surprised and shocked.

Hinata pressed his foot against the accelerator, and spun the wheel. Everyone bar Kageyama – who had had a full half an hour earlier to get used to this – fell to the side of the van. The boxes slid, and Tanaka cursed.

“Watch where you’re going.” He grunted, carefully heaving a box off himself.

“Watch what you fucking say.” Hinata bit back immediately, eyes flicking to meet Tanaka’s in the rear-view mirror. His expression turned ugly as he remembered Ennoshita’s limp body on the floor. It wasn’t the Officer’s fault – they’d been outnumbered, and he was clearly banged up, but so was Hinata, so was Oikawa, and they’d kept on fighting, “Don’t think I’m not fucking pissed off at you as well.”

The tension grew inside the car, and Kageyama watched the smaller man with bated breath and barely concealed curiosity. Why was he angry at Tanaka? What had happened? Tanaka, on the other hand, was confused – mind blurry with exhaustion and adrenalin. Kyoutani waited with a growl in his throat, eyebrows pinched and Asahi merely looked concerned, large brown eyes flicking between the ginger-haired drive and his colleague. What had happened? What would he say next? Pits of dread opened as the silence stretched longer, and louder.

Hinata was trying to clear the red from his eyes. Oikawa wasn’t here, so he couldn’t lose himself in his post-raid hormones that threatened to pull him under. The thoughts that wanted to drown him. His arms trembled slightly with the force he was exerting on the grips of the steering wheel – nails biting in to the rubber-like material, knuckles ivory white. Desperation creeped into his body, as his mind darted between thoughts of Tadashi – limp, bloody, lifeless, and Ennoshita – getting beaten, bruised, slipping in and out of consciousness.

“How could you let my family get hurt?”

He said finally.

Said, unable to keep the tremble out of it, softly to the people in the car. Desperate.

And yet, Kageyama watched his profile – the alpha couldn’t help but think that the Raven’s admonishment was more to the omega’s own self than Tanaka to which the question was directed. Something pinched at the alpha’s heart, the man sitting beside him was human. Kageyama saw past the anger, and the manic energy that enticed him so, past the label of ‘omega’ and saw the hurt, and the vulnerability painted on his face.

For the first time since meeting the Corvids, Kageyama wondered – what had tortured Raven so, to make him feel so protective over his found family?

• ••

When the two vans pulled up at the Corvid Gym, Suga was waiting there – looking tired and dishevelled, a frown tugging at his features. Daichi, in the passenger seat of the van that contained the hostages, couldn’t help but notice the slight rings of blood that crusted around Suga’s wrists, wrists that looked slightly scrubbed at – hands that looked pale and clammy. Asahi,  medically trained and in the process of removing himself from the small nondescript black car, recognised these shaking hands. He’d been operating, he’d been operating on the man who’d been stabbed when he swore, Crow swore, they’d go to a hospital.

Before Asahi’s slow to spark temper could flare, Hinata had flung himself from the car, and had run over to Suga. The silver haired man’s tense shoulders dropped, just slightly.

“What do we do Boss?” They only had around 30 seconds before the rest of the group joined them, and they needed to get the hostages and the weapons to their other warehouses – because of course they’d only told the dumbass cops about the warehouse that wouldn’t implicate them in the slightest.  Hinata buzzed with nervous energy, “We need them gone. I want to see him. I want to kill them.”

“It’s okay Raven. I have them covered. But I need you and Raven to take the vans away as soon as they get out.’ His frown shifted into a soft, forced smile as the others came in earshot, in view of the two. Oikawa’s figure stayed by the van, eyes flitting between his brothers and the hostages. He looked ready to bolt – almost as if he knew what Suga was talking to Hinata about.

“Did you get Magpie to a hospital?” Daichi was the first to speak, surprising his men at the slightly more comfortable tone in his voice. As if talking the head of a detective unit talking to a head of wanted criminal group was supposed to be normal – supposed to sound this familiar.

“No.” Suga was blunt, and his smile dropped at the thoughts that seemed intent to oppress the hopes inside of him, “I operated on him myself.”

He caught Asahi’s open stare, and sighed, “I have experience in that field Officer Asahi. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to take him to a hospital with a tactical knife protruding from his side.”

The Officer only flinched in response, at the disapproval in Suga’s tone. The omega surveyed the rest of the group – and wondered about what to do next. Contrary to what he’d told Hinata, he didn’t have them covered. He had no idea what he was going to do. All the omega wanted to do was relax and go for a smoke with a now awake Ennoshita, and spend some time cooing over the little pups that had nested beside the man. Suga hated the front he was forced to put up – it was too late in the night for that.

He opened his mouth to speak. To sigh. To implore the alphas to go home.

But he didn’t need to.

“What would you like us to do Crow?” Daichi low timbre interrupted the sound that had just left Suga’s chest. And the omega couldn’t help but laugh. Saved. Despite their rivalry, and obvious deviancy in their career choices, it seemed the Captain had his back – at least partially.

“I think it’s best for you Officers to retire for the night. You have upheld your end of the deal, and so will we. I, or one or my crew, will drop around to your police station with necessary information in a few days. If you have any specific questions, regarding the West Side gangs, or the OTCS, contact us and I will try and shape our information to where you need it.”

Any complaints about having to go died as Suga continued to speak – as soon as information was brought up, it seemed every Officer snapped to attention. Even the tall black haired one that seemed to be watching Hinata very closely. It was at that point that Suga made a flicking motion with one of his hands that hung loosely by his side, and Hinata began to move quietly away. Despite his large-presence and attention-grabbing looks, the short man was stealthy and slipped away unnoticed. Oikawa opened the front door of the driver’s seat, and turned on the van. Hinata slipped into the other, and did the same.

At the sound of both vans starting, the unit whipped around again – but the vehicles were already pulling out, then taking off down the road and as they watched disappeared into the black haze of night, even the taillights getting swallowed by the pitch.

“Where are they going?” Kageyama growled. Tanaka rumbled his backup.

“Do you really think we have only one base?” Suga’s tone, before light and amiable (to some extent), hardened and grew cold. The alpha’s, who may have forgotten in the Boss’s perceived friendliness, were instantly reminded of who they were talking to. This omega had snapped someone’s neck, had operated on his own colleague – “We have the entire East Side under our thumb. Of course, we’re taking the hostages and the weapons somewhere else. They can’t be held in our only publicly known location.”

The entire East Side?

“Wha...” Asahi spluttered, “You...you…”

“You conquered the entire East Side with just the five of you?”

Suga stiffened at the mention of the members – remembering how it had actually been the three of them that started to take down the gangs. Remembering how Kenma contacted them one day on Suga’s burner cell – simultaneously asking for a favour and wanting in. Remembering how one night they’d stumbled across a police scene to find a shaking Tadashi screaming at two alphas, clutching a gun in his hands, trying to stop them from taking him away. Remembering how he’d been getting tattoo’s done by Ennoshita for many years before finally stumbling into his shop covered in blood and asking for the biggest crow tattoo he’d gotten to date, because he needed to something to take the weight of his sins. He’d spilled everything to the stoic man, before the man had stopped him – hugged him, comforted him and had asked Suga if he needed help. Help in reminding the alphas that omegas were not to be overlooked. He was reminded of how their family had grown, and how isolated they’d been before they’d found each other.

Someone cleared their throat, and Suga was wrenched from his mind. Not wanting to seem shocked, he covered his shaking lips with a smirk.

“Yes.” He lied uncomfortably. Then shrugged his shoulders, “It wasn’t that hard when we found ourselves a stable footing. But that is a story for another time – because you need to get back before your co-worker’s start suspecting.”

That was enough to snap them into gear, any questions pertaining to the conquering of the East Side dying as the alpha’s remembered that fuck, we can’t let anyone catch wind of this, otherwise we’re all dead. Literally. Tanaka and Kyoutani ran off to get the cars they’d used to drive to the gym that morning, and the other four alphas waited.

“What do we do with your gear that we borrowed?” Iwaizumi asked finally, after a few moments. His voice was steady, as was his gaze – and Suga immediately got the impression that the alpha was reliable. Much like his Captain. The omega wondered if they were close friends, but then shook his head to both clear the thought and answer the question.

“Keep it. I’ll send someone to pick it up. If you can’t keep it without arousing suspicion dispose of it appropriately.”

“Is there anywhere we can drop it off?”

“Not here.” Suga’s response was immediate, remembering that over the next week they’d be sorting out the pups’ situation, trying to smuggle them out of the country and find the parents of those pups that wanted to be found, “If anywhere, drop them off at Tigers’ Tattoos. Go in casual clothing, and tell them that Crow sent you.”

Daichi remembered seeing Crow exit that place the day they had apprehended the short Raven, and all of a sudden the conversation about tattoos made sense. Of course, that was what the omega had been doing. Though, the Captain wasn’t going to discount the fact that the omega might have connections there.

A distant rumbling grew louder as the Tanaka screeched around a corner and nearly blinded them with the high-beams of yet another nondescript black car. He pulled over in a practiced fashion, rolling surprisingly gently to a halt. Mad dog followed less discreetly, less cleanly behind him – all aggression.

And they didn’t know how to say goodbye. The alphas were clearly uncomfortable – it was customary to be polite, to say thank you for one’s company after meeting with them, but how the fuck – what the fuck, were they supposed to say to the leader of a criminal gang, what would they be thanking him for? Kageyama, in all his social ineptness, was surprisingly the first one to think of something, slightly inclining his head in acknowledgement. With a slight smirk on his face, Suga returned it. And then the alpha turned on his heel and went to take the passenger seat of Tanaka’s car (everyone would fill Tanaka’s car first, knowing how much road rage Kyoutani suffered from).

It set off a chain reaction. Following Kageyama’s action, Asahi was quick to do the same, fumbling a little bit as he did so. Suga wasn’t exactly sure how one could fumble a nod, but the alpha did it – reminding the omega a bit of Tadashi when they’d first found him. Though of course Tadashi had grown a lot, and was better to begin with (Suga knew he was biased but he didn’t care). Iwaizumi stiffly did the same, then went to join Asahi in the backseat of Tanaka’s car. Daichi tensed slightly when he realised he’d have to ride with Kyoutani, as none of the large, well-toned alphas wanted to go three in a backseat, but he had a reason to hang behind. A question bubbled in him.

“How am I supposed to contact you?”

How am I supposed to contact you? Not ‘the gang’, not ‘us officers’ – ‘I’ and ‘you’. Smooth, acknowledged Suga reluctantly. But he wouldn’t let himself get caught off guard, not when he lectured his family about this every other day, when he’d had the phrase keep your guard up branded into his mind since birth. So instead of stumbling at the direct question, Suga smiled gently, then smirked, locking eyes with Daichi.

“Ask your omegan receptionist. If you ask her to take your makeup off, you’ll find she has a similar tattoo to the ones you’re so curious about.”

• ••

They’d left.

Suga had told Ennoshita that before collapsing into the wounded man’s arms. His boss’s arms were trembling as they wrapped around the man’s torso, Suga weeping into his shoulder.

“Shh. Suga it’s okay.” Ennoshita never knew how to comfort his boss, his omegan instincts repressed since his days at the orphanage. But for some reason Suga always came to him, always saying that he just wanted to be comforted by someone who didn’t need to know why. And Suga was right, Ennoshita felt no need to know why Suga broke down after choice raids, why his scent was extremely potent and overpowering, why he’d even started this gang in the first place, only trafficking omegas who wanted to be trafficked – who wanted to be lost.

“I’m so sorry. If I had known – I… I’m so sorry you got hurt. I shouldn’t have given the ok on the raid. I didn’t mean to get you injured Chikara.” Hands clutched at Ennoshita’s shirt as Suga’s voice broke around the sentences he spoke.

“That’s bullshit. We got hurt because we couldn’t protect ourselves. Don’t blame yourself.”

“But I’m the leader, I should’ve..”

“Do you want a smoke?” Ennoshita interrupted him, “I shouldn’t be smoking when I’m injured and healing, you don’t have to tell me. But I think it’d do you a world of good. Look at those addict hands.”

Ennoshita gently peeled Suga’s hands from his back, and holding him lightly by the wrists brough them into their line of sight – they were shaking. Suga gave a gentle laugh and smiled weakly, “Yeah I guess you’re right. Though we..” He sniffled, “We should probably get out of the Hospital. Natsu would have our heads.”

And so they left supporting each other, Suga still crying and sniffling slightly. When they left the warehouse, they stopped and Ennoshita fished a packet of cigarettes from the pockets of his black slacks – the pack he usually kept in his chest pocket had been removed along with his shirt, bandages wrapped neatly around his bare torso. Despite the cold, he didn’t shiver, sourcing a lighter from his pockets as well and lighting up a smoke. He offered the packet to Suga, who with shaking fingers gingerly took a cigarette and lit it on the offered lighter.

He inhaled deeply, imagining the smoke to be calm.

Then exhaled, imagining the smoke he exhaled to be every bad emotion he was feeling.

“That better?” There was only a little inflection in the voice, but the tone was kind, and Suga nodded in answer to Ennoshita’s question. Then he sniffled again and began to cry harder as he thought about the state Tadashi was in.

“I couldn’t protect him. What if he drops? What if he doesn’t wake up? I can’t..” Suga’s hands shook so much that he nearly dropped the cigarette. He leaned his head against the cold metal outer of the warehouse, trying to ground himself. Desperately. He closed his eyes and took another long drag of the cigarette.

A car pulled into the open cavern of the warehouse beside them and Suga lazily opened his eyes. It would’ve been bad had it been anyone else, but he trusted that no one else knew of this warehouse’s true purpose. He heard the car door slam shut, and then a bobbing head appeared in his peripheries.

Suga dropped his gaze to the man that now stood in front of him; Oikawa, with his hands on his hips, was glaring at him and he did not look impressed.

“Are you feeling sorry for yourself again Suga?”

Suga flinched and took another drag, a tear slipping down his cheek. It didn’t help his cause. He drifted between apathy and regret. Oikawa tore the cigarette from his hands and stomped on it angrily, “I would think you’d have a little more backbone Boss.”

“Eat shit Oikawa.”

The tall omega rolled his eyes, and opened his arms, anger draining from his posture, “Come ‘ere.”

Yet again, Suga collapsed into the arms of a colleague, feeling entirely safe as Oikawa embraced him. Unlike Ennoshita, this man knew nearly everything of his past, nearly as much as Hinata did, “You’re not to blame here. We all did the best we could, and Tadashi was protecting himself the best he could as well. You made the right call. Who knows what the West Side would’ve done with the scent weapons? Ok? We’ve just made the world a slightly safer place for omegas.”

“That means nothing if I can’t protect you guys though.” Suga hiccupped into Oikawa’s shoulder, “Tooru, I can’t lose anyone, you guys are my family.”

“I know dear, I know.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will Suga. Trust Tadashi, he’s strong okay? And you are too.”

“I’m so scared Tooru.”

“I know dear. You’re allowed to be scared. I’ve got you.” And Oikawa tightened his grip on Suga, showing him the weight and meaning behind his words. He meant it all. The silver-haired man relaxed, and continued to cry.

The talking stopped. Ennoshita stood there leaning on the wall of the warehouse, smoking watching as Oikawa cooed and scented Suga gently, as Suga scented back, tears slowing in their rate, until his eyes were dry again. The stoic man released some of his own scent into the night air – pushing out calming pheromones, trying to keep it gentle, the smell of black ink and heroin mixing with the ever-present smell of salt spray (it was a sea-side city after all) and asphalt in an odd but pleasant combination. Oikawa’s own scent of woodsmoke and rain was not as pure – the smell of his bondmates corrupting it slightly, but was nevertheless calming as well. Suga always did like the smell of Ennoshita’s and Oikawa’s scent together, inhaling deeply as they pushed their scents out into the air.

“Thank you.” Suga finally pulled back, wiping his dry eyes – they were slightly itchy after sobbing, as they always were, “I’m –“

“Don’t apologise Suga.” Ennoshita interrupted him again, “And don’t dwell on this either, we have to look to the future and plan for tomorrow – no matter what horrors it may bring.”

Suga nodded, “Regroup, reset, replan.”

Oikawa nodded as well but this time to the street opposite, where they could see the faint orange tinge of Hinata’s hair in the fainter moonlight. The omega already had fresh blood under his fingernails.

“Revenge, perhaps?”

Chapter Text

He didn’t wait to be let out of the hospital. He’d never waited to be discharged. Instead with his sharp tongue and sharper wit, he fought the nurses with literal tooth and nail. Tsukishima had never liked hospitals, and wasn’t hurt that bad. He had been shot in the arm, hand and calf – nowhere in the torso, he had argued with the beta nurse who seemed so intent to push him back down onto his bed. His phone – which they’d allowed him after surgery – had blown up with messages, and he was itching to get back to the station to find out what suspects they’d found, if they’d apprehended them, interrogated them. He was the main tech informant of the unit, as well as the sniper, so of course Tsukishima wanted to know anything his colleagues now knew.

Not only that, Tsukishima was also itching to find out what the cause of Tanaka’s 50 text long rant about ‘Whatever the fuck just happened.’ And Kageyama protesting ‘that even though a gun was held to my head of course I was in control, dumbasses.’ And Iwaizumi questioning the purpose of the group chat when they were all in the same building. Apparently only Tanaka was ballsy enough to comment on the fact that ‘Iwaizumi you were sent a flying kick to your face, is it not okay to be freaking the fuck out?’.

That had been a day ago.

It was now 7am.

And, standing on crutches in the middle of the hospital lobby, shot arm gently wrapped in a cotton sling, he held his phone to his ear, listening to the shrill rings. It was time that the got brought back in the loop. What the fuck had happened while he was out of commission?

It was Daichi that picked up the phone, “Kei, have you been discharged?”

The Captain sound tired – more tired than usual. Too tired. Suspiciously so.

“Sir let me counter that uncomfortable question with one of my own, did you get any sleep last night?”

“I-uh, no actually.” Daichi huffed into the phone and then Tsukishima could hear someone wolf whistling and murmuring on the other end. The next minute after a muffled grown from Daichi, the Captains voice turned oddly strangled – as if speaking away from the microphone; “No you idiots, it’s not Crow-san. We have no way of contacting them. They’re making it hard for us to find them again. Sorry Kei, I didn’t get any sleep last night now. There’s been some events over the past two days which you’ve missed out on.”

‘That’s what I want to know. Could you send a car to the hospital?”

“Have you been discharged?”

Ah, the Captain ’s being stubborn. Figures.

“Yes,” Tsukishima started and paused. When he heard the Captain sigh in relief, he could only smirk as he delivered the next words, furthering the slight headache behind his eyes, “Of my own volition.”

“God-damnit, Tsukishima. Get back into bed and give yourself time to heal.” On the other end of the line, Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Tsukishima was being stubborn again.

“I’ll give myself time to heal, when I can at least be helpful. At least at the office I have access to a computer. Don’t want to leave the job to the high and mighty King.”

“You’re not going to stop pestering me until I get someone to pick you up, are you?”

“No, sir.” Tsukishima mocked lightly, hoping the distortion over the phone was enough to hide his slight disrespect. His right arm throbbed painfully in the sling, and his right calf was already shaking. He leant into the crutch wedged under his left armpit, knowing it should be wedged under his right and cursing the man, or woman (he wouldn’t bow down to sexism) who put the wounds there.

Daichi sighed.

“I’ll come pick you up. But before we come back to the station, we’re going to make a stop somewhere.”

“Where?”

The line buzzed and Tsukishima pulled the phone away from his ear. The Captain hadn’t answered his question, just hung up – he’d sounded frazzled and under the weather. How much sleep had he been getting? Well, whatever he’d gotten, it was probably better than the drug induced haze he’d spent the past 48 hours under.

Ignoring the nurses, and the hassled looking receptionists, he hobbled to the front doors and stepped back out into the world, trying to ignore the pain seeping through the right side of his body.

• ••

“Tadashi.”

The breath was cool against his face.

“Tadashi.”

The light was bright behind his eyes.

“Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

And the sound, once muffled, was becoming steadily clearer with what he now realised, was every repetition of his name.

“Tadashi aka the absolutely strong as fuck beast badass who carries the team Yamaguchi.”

That woke him up. Tadashi opened his eyes, blearily, to an orange mop of hair and a bright smiling face. Ah, so that’s why the light was so bright. Hinata was the groups own little sun, even if at times he threatened to supernova. The omega was leaning over him, making sure to keep directly in his line of vision, grinning. He blinked slowly, waking back up to the world.

“How do you feel Tadashi?”

It was then that the pain returned to him. All at once. Dizzying. If he hadn’t been lying down, he would’ve dropped like a stone to the floor, like an anchor in the ocean. God, it hurt. Exploded from his back, seeping deep inside him and wrapping in tightness around his abdomen. The ache behind his eyes grew, and it pounded, his mouth drier than sawdust in a desert country – and then a straw was in front of his face, blurring in his vision.

“Drink, you’re dehydrated.”

That wasn’t Hinata’s voice. It was the new kid’s... called,... uh… “Noya” Tadashi rasped, the first word sounding foreign as it tumbled from his scratchy throat, dry lips, “Thanks.”

Someone, who’s fingers he couldn’t see, pressed it to his lips and he drank greedily. The cool liquid rushed down his throat and steadied the heat that seemed content to blossom in his stomach, “Thanks guys.”

“We were so worried you were going to drop.” Noya’s voice sounded strained, and for good reason. He must have had some horrible experiences with drops and Tadashi couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like to be in that place they rescued him from. He wanted to reach out a hand and comfort the man, but his limbs seemed content to stay where they were – though his fingers wiggled in attempt to respect his brain. It was just too much effort, too much energy.

“TADASHI!” A girl’s voice cut through whatever words had been forming in the omega’s throat to reassure Noya, and soft lips pressed to his forehead, “You’re running a fever.”

He could practically hear Natsu frowning as she said that, so he shifted his head on the soft pillows to catch her in his gaze. She smiled softly down at him, “You were strong Tadashi.”

“What happened to the alpha who –“

“Suga wrung his neck like a plucked chicken about to be killed.” Hinata’s voice darkened, and the pull that Tadashi felt on the bedsheets was the young man clenching the loose fabric in his fists. Angrily. The calm and cozy scent started to shift as Hinata’s scent began to grow in potency, but was offput by the sweet smell of pear and melted sugar from Tadashi’s other side.

“Hope you don’t mind my scent Tadashi.” Noya squeezed his arm gently, murmuring.

The wounded nodded slightly.

“I wish he hadn’t though.” Hinata continued ignoring the little exchange, “I wanted my share as well, selfish bastard. It would’ve been so much better to torture him and shower him in every bit of pain you’ve ever felt.”

“Well, Suga was angry.” Natsu interjected, and Hinata yelped – as the littler redhead’s hand came bonking down audibly on her older brother’s head, “Of course he was going to kill the man. If he’d been calm I would’ve been worried – for the both of them. He’s not exactly forgiving.”

“Takes after his father.” Hinata murmured, “Not like we could stop him.”

“Yeah and that’s what he’s afraid of.” Natsu shot back softly.

Both of their last remarks were barely heard by Tadashi, and lost on Noya’s ears. It wasn’t often that the straight-talking siblings talked cryptic like this, but when they did it was always revolving around Suga, or Oikawa. Never talking about their own past, Tadashi had never once heard them mention anything about their family. But it was okay, because he didn’t talk about his own past, nor birth family – and they didn’t press. Each of them knew the mines that they held shimmering under the surface, and where on the ground their words should walk to avoid detonation.

The omega coughed weakly to fill the slight silence that followed, and the straw was pressed back to his lips. It soothed the scratch in his throat.

“Where is Crow-san?” Noya piped up, having not heard the last words Hinata and Natsu spoke, nor hearing the inner whirlwind of thoughts that beat in Tadashi’s mind, but nevertheless, drawing the three out from the dark recesses of their thoughts and into a lighter conversation topic.

Hinata’s smile returned to his face, and Tadashi could feel Natsu practically glowing behind him. The girl would one day burn a brighter sun than her brother – when she was happy it was impossible not to be.

“He’s –“ They started at the same time and then giggled. Tadashi let out a sigh of relief, not liking the feeling of the previous atmosphere weighing down on his lungs. Hinata’s scent was quite oppressive when it leaked, unable to be fully controlled.

“You see,” Natsu jumped in front of her brother again, but Tadashi could feel the warmth of Hinata’s smile, unoffended, “He has this thing right? Where he goes an gets a tattoo after every raid. You know how you all got a ‘Found’ tattoo by Ennoshita?”

Noya’s hand left Tadashi’s side to reach up and gingerly press his new tattoo. He did know that. It had hurt, but the tall, slightly intimidating omega had kept him from focusing on it by talking about mundanities in low carefully measured tones. They’d talked about the Port, how it was considered both the business hub and butt of the nation, and how neglected it had been by the Monarch – His Majesty lording over the lands up North, ignoring the sea-side cities down South. It made sense, logically, seeing as all the wars happened on the Northern Borders, but the Lords that ruled the South were corrupt, leading the lands to ruin. Not a light topic by any stretch, but Noya had been impressed by the effectiveness of distraction.

“Yeah, I know.”

‘Well,” Natsu continued without a hitch in her breath as she jumped in at the end of Noya’s statement. Eager, everyone noted at the same time, Tadashi letting out a small breath laugh. Hinata stroked the wounded omega’s forehead, fondly and kept his eyes on his sister, “Crow-san does the same thing! After every raid he gets a tattoo, so he never forgets the lives he’s saved.”

Or lost. The thought crossed Hinata’s mind, leaving as quickly as it came.

“Ah, so like a ritual then?” Noya’s question was more of a statement, confirmed as Natsu quickly nodded her head. Every omega was familiar with rituals, both ones imposed upon them and ones they instigated themselves. Purely omega to omega. Rituals were the only rights they had to themselves, separate from alphas. And they ranged. Ranged from pack bonding, to spontaneous nesting, to set bi-weekly coffee dates with omegan friends. Once a ritual was set, not even an alpha’s command could break the omega’s bodily need to fulfill it, only physical restraint could hold them back, only the omega’s explicit consent of giving up a ritual could subdue the primal, ancient need.

Tadashi had seen alphas restrain their omegas in that way, trying to remove their only source of freedom. It often triggered a drop or if the omega was unlucky and the alpha was horribly lucky – a heat. It was either of the two extremes, but which even one it was – the omega lost all control of their mind.

“It’s just a tradition.” Hinata spoke firmly, probably shaking himself from the same thoughts Tadashi’s mind had conjured for him, “Not a ritual. We have our rituals, and they’re not as nice as that.”

Noya didn’t ask what rituals the Corvids had – scared of the response.

But he didn’t need to ask.

“Anyone who ever lays a hand on a Found, dies. Our ritual is protecting you and all those pups. And no one can stop us from that.”

And the air left Noya’s lungs, because for the first time, Hinata’s steadying, concentrated, determined gaze was focused on him, and he saw the truth. He was finally safe. He’d been Found. He was a part of their family.

A tear slipped down Nishinoya’s cheek, and Tadashi found the strength to reach his leaden arm up and brush the tear away. Then, ignoring the shouting pain in his back and abdomen, pulled the small man to his chest and began to purr, “You’re safe now.”

Hinata nodded, “If anyone ever lays a finger on you, I’ll torture him in every way I can think of, stop when he’s on the brink of death, let him heal and then kill him slowly again until he’s begging for death. No one should ever experience human trafficking, not when they are stolen from their homes – however horrible they may be. And no one should get forced into doing things they don’t want to do.”

“I can’t promise that no one will hurt you again.” Natsu interrupted her brother, but their voices melded together in harmony – so it didn’t really matter. The woman’s voice was soft and her fingers threaded through Noya’s hair in a comforting manner, “But I can promise that we’ll always have your back Noya-san.”

“Always.”

• ••

Oikawa sat in the office space, fiddling with his ear piece. Long legs stretched out, he leaned back in his seat and groaned. Folders of documents and page littered the desk, and the notes Tadashi had scrawled and then given to Ennoshita lay on the top of the haphazard mess – he was supposed to be organising the ship with their contact in that industry, but he’d made no move to pick up the phone. Instead, he looked at the information on those that wanted to be returned to their parents.

Had anybody said that under coercion? Out of fear for their family finding them?

He rubbed his nose tiredly and sighed.

Now ’s not the time to be thinking of this Tooru. You don ’t know what ’s going to happen, you can ’t prevent every disaster. Just trust the pups.

Ok.

Let ’s think. What do I need to do?

“I need to contact Takeda about the ship and transport.”

The older male omega had been rescued by Suga some time ago, when Suga was doing a solo scouting mission. The elder had immediately latched onto Suga, and sometimes acted as if he had some sort of dirt on their leader. Maybe Takeda was aware of Suga’s past – of something that Oikawa, or god-forbid, even Hinata wasn’t. Again, it hurt his head to ponder all the ‘what-if’s’, so with great difficulty pulled himself from his thoughts again.

“And I need to update the West Side’s location and set up a possible scouting mission for the upper echelons. Need to update the positions of detective units and their own scouting mission, update our tabs on the Justice Minister and the Lords of House Nohebi, and –“ Oikawa spun in his office chair, head lolling back so he was staring at the ceiling, counting off items on his fingers as he vocalised his thoughts. It was his classic thinking position, only ever witnessed by Suga and Hinata. Though he was probably getting to a point in his friendship with Tadashi that he would let the man witness him like this. 

No. Think Tooru. Stay focused.

“Update our tabs on the Justice Minister, the Lords of House Nohebi, Lords of House Haiba and the… uh… that’s it! I need to locate the new residence of the Lord of House Kuroo. Set. Okay. Now, first thing’s first contact –“

His planning was cut off by the shrill of a telephone, landline at that. It was technically the gym’s landline, but this was its primary place of residence, wedged between Suga’s, Oikawa’s and Ennoshita’s desks, balancing precariously on the corners of the three. The fourth desk – Hinata’s, had over the course of about a week, already shifted back to isolate itself. So, before the phone would vibrate off the desk – it was one of those old phones, Oikawa picked it up.

“Corvid’s gym, how can I help you?” Customer service voice immediately on, chirpy and chipper.

“Oh I.. uh..” The man on the other end sounded confused. Distantly Oikawa wondered if this was one of the Officers, but the idea perished as the man fumbled over his words and lost any familiarity that Oikawa thought he had heard, “I.. uh, sorry, I heard this was the Lost and Found Office.”

“It depends.” As if reading off a script, the man had uttered the first line of the act, and Oikawa the second – now it was time to see if they were on the same page, “Who’s asking?”

“Only somebody who wishes to find somebody they lost.”

Oikawa smiled lazily, knowing that the man wouldn’t be able to see it over the phone. His posture immediately relaxed and he dropped his chirpy, chipper voice for a lower, more authority-demanding tone, “Sir you’ve asked the right place. May I ask for your son or daughter’s name, age, and approximate physical description please? I will also ask you to name their favourite colour. I assure you it’s just a security measure – to make sure you’re actually the parent.”

The man was silent and then began to talk. His previous stutter was forgotten as he spilled the story to Oikawa, losing himself to tears half way through and had to have Oikawa coax him through some breathing techniques. He’d lost his son and his daughter on the same day and his description of both matched only one of the omegas in Tadashi’s scrawled notes. The man’s daughter.

“Sir we have your daughter here with us –“ Oikawa started and the man nearly started crying again, sniffling loudly, “But we have no pup who matches your description of your son.”

“Are you sure? I swear they were taken by the same people. I swear. Please believe me. I’m not lying I.. I – Oh god.”

“Look, I’ve written down what you’ve told me about your son,” It was true, Oikawa had managed to find a blank piece of paper in the stack and had quickly jotted down the information. His pen tapped the page as he listened to the man crying, “Sir, please. Try and stay calm. We’ll look for your son. And if we find him, we’ll contact you. Okay? Have hope, he sounds like a strong pup.” It was lip service, but hope was the only thing he could give this broken man. For all Oikawa knew, the pup was dead – by malnourishment, blood loss, a drop, or just pure shock. He shook his head slightly, no, he could give this man his daughter back – that’s what the Corvid’s could offer the Father, “Now, regarding your daughter, would you be able to come pick her up from the Corvid’s gym today?”

“I can come right now.” Some vigour returned to his voice, and Oikawa could faintly hear jostling and panting, the clink of car keys perhaps.

“We’ll be waiting.”

And then he put the phone back down in its precarious position, and sighed loudly.

“Well, fucking – I guess first thing is second today then.” Oikawa muttered to himself, but couldn’t help but smile as he stood. Another little omega had been saved, today was a good day.

• ••

The day was bright, as days often were. As Suga pulled up to the front of Tiger’s Tattoos in his customary nondescript black car, he felt as if the day should be darker. As if the Earth should know that scent weapons were being illegally imported into the country and that two of his brothers could’ve died and so adjust the brightness of the day accordingly. He just felt too exposed in the harsh light, and with the pounding headache that came with not much sleep, darkness would’ve been kinder.

“Ennoshita! Ya boss is here.” The call rang out as soon as he entered the tastefully dark room, only spots of illumination coming behind the counter where two men were locked in an arm wrestle. To be fair to them, there wasn’t much foot traffic in the Downtown Port on a Monday morning. Suga smiled warmly at them, and proceeded to manoeuvre his way to the back room, where his room was.

Ennoshita was already there, dressed in a white dress shirt, black slacks, hair slicked back and cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The ink was already ready to go, and when the silver-haired man entered the room, the omega simply lifted his head and gave the other a small smile. It was then that Suga noticed the deep purple of Ennoshita’s eyebags, and the small cuts and scrapes to his face. When he moved, he moved with tenderness, and Suga could just faintly hear the catch of the white dress shirt against the fabric of the bandages.

“Why white this morning Ennoshita-kun?” He teased, but kept his mouth turned down in a disapproving frown, did he get any sleep at all? Irresponsible fool.

“If any wounds leak, it’s easier to see. Easier to catch on. And before you ask, I couldn’t sleep. It hurt on all sides, and it was already morning so…” Ennoshita shrugged, “Won’t affect my work though, I’ve had too much coffee for that to happen.”

Ennoshita laughed, looking slightly uncomfortable, then avoiding his Boss’s gaze, went to tweak his preparations. Suga didn’t comment on that, knowing that the undoubted guilty thoughts his subordinate harboured would be enough punishment for the man. Instead, he wandered over to the wall of different crow sketches and stood stock still in front of them.

He needed one of anger. Of fear and unfettered fucking love and instincts. He wanted a crow in primal glory, because that’s the emotion he’d experienced, in the snapping of the alpha’s neck to the almost physically sickening surge of instinct and anger and protectiveness when he’d seen his family hurt.

“This one.” He decided finally pick a crow, small and frozen mid-flight, but beak opened wide in what looked like an aggressive call. Each feather tip was distinguished and was sharpened to a point. It was perfect. Picking it lightly from the wall, Suga handed it to Ennoshita who smiled and nodded approvingly, then stopped abruptly when his head began to throb – “I think it would go well on my lower back beneath the stationary one.”

“Right or left side?”

“Left side, pointing away for the three in the middle. I want to be defending my fellow crows, not attacking them.”

Ennoshita bit his lip, conjuring a mental image and then, instead of nodding confirmed Suga’s idea verbally, “I can see that. Shall we get started then?”

Suga nodded and stripped himself of his shirt, exposing his already heavily inked back to the world. The small bandage that covered his most recent addition had started to peel, and as the omega lay down on the bed, Ennoshita ripped it from his skin. Suga yelped and the soft scent he was releasing spiked a bit in potency and then settled again. As he moved his muscles rippled, and the crows flew as he breathed. Ennoshita touched the edges of it gingerly, in the places where it wasn’t so red and raised.

“It’s healing nicely, you should be able to move as normal, probably by tomorrow.”

Suga sighed a laugh, “That’s good, I don’t want to be out of action like this again. Though I am surprised nothing ripped, bled or leaked in yesterday’s raid. I did some heavy damage with my right arm.”

“I’m sure you did Boss, as if you weren’t staring at their Captain and letting him take over.”

“Chikara I’m warning you.”

“You’re forgetting that I’m about to have to ink you. I have all the control here Boss. Besides we all have eyes, and he was giving you his.”

“Are you saying I have no right to be charismatic?” Suga’s breathing shallowed as the needle pierced his skin and he inhaled sharply. As he let go of his breath he found some indignation residing at the bottom of his lungs, “It’s a mutual leadership – though I’ve got him dancing.”

“He’s got the hots for you for sure.” How Chikara Ennoshita could say such a sentence with a straight face, so offhandedly was beyond understanding. Ennoshita squinted at the work he was doing, and mumbled, “Probably the type of sap who would believe in love at first sight.”

“Psh,” Suga retorted weakly, trying to focus on the conversation and not the pain, “He’s just doing his job. Which happens to be my job.”

“Uh-huh.” The other man was distracted, and for good reason, so Suga merely huffed and continued.

“And you’re one to talk anyway, that bald-headed alpha needed ‘so much help’ knife-throwing, and just ‘couldn’t leave your side’ when you were injured last night. He didn’t even want help putting you in the car when I drove you back to The Hospital.”

Suga was unable to see the slight blush that settled on Ennoshita’s face, so completely believed the weak retort, “They’re all dumbasses.”

“Yeah.” Suga agreed, “Stupid alphan instincts believing we all need to be protected and coddled. We’re not fucking helpless.”

“The gestures are nice though.”  Ennoshita had lifted the needle from his back and was piercing somewhere else – a wingtip Suga supposed, vision clouding with the pain. His peripheries turned grey as he groaned.

“Mm–hm.” Gritted teeth.

“And–“

“ENNOSHITA!” The door slammed open a little less than two seconds after the sound had echoed through the building, and one of the men that Suga had seen behind the counter stood silhouetted in the door. The handle crumpled slightly in his grasp, damage made in haste, alpha, “Ere’s someone ‘ere that wants to see ya. Says Crow sent him.”

“Shit.” Suga whispered to no one but himself.

“Fuck,” Ennoshita cursed louder, not lifting his eyes from Suga’s back, “First of all Makoto, I’ve fucking told you to not burst in when I’m inking someone. Second, no one knows my real fucking name and here you are screaming the goddamn neighbourhood down with it.”

The large alpha visibly recoiled, “Sorry Chikara. But what the fuck am I supposed to call ya? I ain’t calling you some pussy bird shit.”

For the first time since the grand entrance, Ennoshita looked up, steel in his eyes, a cold hard glare centred on his adoptive older brother, “If you want me to move out again I will. If you don’t, you’ll shut your fucking face and learn some respect. Gods, you and Nomura are insufferable.”

“Whatever.” Makoto huffed, shrugging large alphan shoulders but squirming slightly under his younger brother’s gaze, “I can deal with ya silent treatment boy, but Nomura has nothing to do with this.”

“Tch.” Ennoshita rolled his eyes, then sighed, his tiredness suddenly outweighing whatever petty anger blossomed. Makoto narrowed his eyes at the change in expression, and relaxed slightly as well.

“Do you want me to send ‘em in ‘ere? Or keep ‘em out in the main room?”

As always the fights died without resolution, merely fading to nothing. Such was often the way with brothers, a change in situation wiping the incident from their minds as they settled back into the rhythm they knew. Ennoshita bit his tongue as a retort wormed its way to his lips, but he knew that his exhaustion had placed it there so he waited until his rationality took over again.

“Send them in Makoto.” Suga’s voice reminded them of the third presence, and of who the real boss was here, despite lying face down on the bed, a needle inserting ink under his skin. Ennoshita clicked his tongue and went back to his steady work.

For a few minutes it was quiet.

And then the tell-tale pads of feet upon the floor alerted the duo to the approaching group.

The door banged open for the second time that morning, and Suga groaned internally as he realised it hadn’t been his family as he’d expected, but instead the shiny soled boots of the fucking cops. Now, this would be interesting.

• ••

Tsukishima struggled in getting out of the car, but there was no way that he would stay in. Not when his oh-so-righteous sleep-evasive Captain was going into a tattoo parlour in the  shady downtown Port, a place very only a district away from the red-light district. Daichi growled in disapproval – the Captain hadn’t said a word to him in the car, besides a terse ‘how are you?’. Tsukishima had merely clicked his tongue in response, and had stabbed through his Captain’s attempt at conversation with a ‘I’ve been shot, how do you think I feel?’.

Daichi hadn’t responded, and as Tsukishima struggled to get his crutch from the backseat, breathing heavily, the alphan leader still didn’t say anything. But the Captain rubbed his eyes, and purple bags paled and then returned with full force and Tsukishima nearly grimaced at how bad they were – his first proper view of his Captain, and he looked absolutely shattered.

As the tall alpha picked up his crutch he set down his pride, “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see.” Daichi was unnaturally short – nearly as short as Tsukishima would have been if he’d been in his right mind and not still fighting off sedatives. The tall alpha hobbled towards the other and the Captain seemed to snap back into the protective fatherly persona he had, as if suddenly remembering that he’d just picked his subordinate up from the hospital, after getting shot three times for the squad, “You alright on this uneven ground?”

Tsukishima grunted, looking down, wincing in pain as he knocked his crutch against a loose rock, “Yeah. Let’s just get this over with. I want to find out what’s been happening over the past few days while I was out.”

And then he looked up and tried to meet Daichi’s eyes. But he couldn’t, because the Captain’s gaze had shifted beyond Tsukishima’s shoulder, to another black car they’d passed – this one lacking license plates. Though that wasn’t uncommon in this area, it was still suspicious. Suspicious as Daichi seemed to lose himself in thought over something that should’ve been looked over – commonplace.

“Captain?” Tsukishima frowned.

“Mm.” Daichi slowly pulled his gaze from the car. The car, which he’d seen a silver-haired omega step into last night, panic and pressure pulling at his features as he’d raced off into the dark night to save his family. Was it the same car? Black cars were by far the most common car but how many people were off work on a Monday morning at 9am? “Yeah, sorry, let’s go inside.”

When they stepped into the building the first thing that crossed Daichi’s mind was the dark. For a tattoo parlour it was very dark, interrupted by bright spurts of lights over chairs, reflecting off black ink and glass. In the corner someone whimpered as needles drove into their chest. They walked towards the front counter, towards a man who looked as if he crushed skulls just by flexing his arms, heavy tattoos creating intricate and devastating patterns up and down his arms, creeping from exposed chest – his shirt was half unbuttoned in a weird alphan display of dominance, Daichi supposed – to his neck and curling up his chin. Blood, knives, skulls, thorns of roses and snakes. An interesting aesthetic, Tsukishima scoffed into the back of his left hand.

“Excuse me Sir.” Daichi approached and the man’s eyes flicked up to meet his, they flashed dangerously then stilled and a tight smile wormed its way onto the man’s lips, “We’re here to drop off some things.”

“An’ who‘re you?” The man grunted, squinting.

“Crow-san sent me. I’m here to drop off some things for him.”

Tsukishima stayed silent as Daichi tried to convey his confusing message, who was Crow-san? What are we dropping off? Is this illegal? Why the fuck is Daichi of all people engaged in illegal activities? The questions were left unanswered.

“Jus’ wait a minute –“ The man turned to the side and stomped out from behind the counter, making his way to a door on the far end of the store. As he went, yelling, “ENNOSHITA!”

Then slammed the door open and entered the dark recess of a black corridor. To find someone named, ‘Ennoshita’. Daichi wondered if the man whose name he yelled had any connections to the Corvids. If so, then that would mean more information. More information on the gang, more information to hold over the Corvids head to leverage more information out of them. It was an information war.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, hearing some loud swearing from behind the walls in the beginning, then more silence, only permeated by the whimpers of a beta (most likely, their scent was otherwise quite subdued) in the corner getting inked. Tsukishima stared at his Captain, survey his profile.

“Kei, I can see you staring at me. What is it?” The Captain sounded tired; he always regressed to this state when he wasn’t putting up his ‘put-together’ Captain front.

“I’m confused as fuck, that’s all. Whatever we’re doing I hope it’s not illegal.”

“It’s more than just a bit illegal.”

“Wha–“

“Alright, ‘Shita says you can come on through.” The man reappeared in the doorway, and beckoned for them, interrupting Tsukishima’s newest revelation, and newest incredulous questioning of his Captain. Daichi marched forward, also wanted to avoid the shit show his arguably smartest subordinate would cause (at least Tsukishima wouldn’t get his emotions involved, he was the professional that he’d rather argue with Daichi on a factual basis, but there was no basis for the deal he’d struck other than Crow’s really quite effective provocation, and the hope that the information they could gain would end the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate and their 8-year long case). Tsukishima hobbled after him, cursing ever so slightly and ever-so-softly with each jolting step that sent pain running up his right side.

The back corridor was longer than they’d both expected, and when they finally reached the end, the large, well-toned (extremely well-toned) man stopped and opened the door.

Daichi’s heart stopped as his eyes took in the view right in front of him while Tsukishima’s eyes travelled immediately to the walls of the room. His heart also stopped.

Crow sketches of all kinds covered the walls – some already patterned, black ink outlines trapped in panes of glass – ready to be chosen, others sketched on scraps of paper, other larger spray-painted black crows eating up wall space in décor. It was morbid, and somewhat frightening to someone who had never liked birds, but it was – he had to admit – a somewhat better aesthetic than the one Tsukishima had seen inked into the large man’s arms.

Daichi’s heart still hadn’t started again, metaphorically speaking, of course. It only felt like that, even though he could feel it pounding in his ears, and throbbing in every inch of his body. But it felt like that, his feet rooted to the floor, fingertips tingling slightly.

In the centre of the room the silver-haired angel – no, would it be better to call him a devil after the show last night? – lay relaxed on a black bed, head angled to the side, watching the wall, entirely shirtless. And beside him, leaning over him was the same man that Daichi had seen slipping in and out of consciousness last night, now moving stiffly, but still looking more awake and more alive than Daichi had seen him so far. Jay looked entirely relaxed, oozing confidence as he pushed the needle back into Crow’s back. And all of a sudden, Daichi was hit with the crushing realisation of what the silver-haired man was doing. His ritualistic post-raid tattoo.

That was what Daichi saw in a second, split-second if he was being gracious. But what kept his gaze was the lean rippling muscles of the Crow’s back, and the flying crows – moving with each inhale and exhale. They were everywhere, intricately detailed, near silhouettes with the only slight differences in shading to suggest the images. The alpha couldn’t help but think about running his hands up and down each one of them – and he shivered. No, now was not the time to be thinking about that. Actually, there should never be a time to think about that he admonished himself, he was a police officer and this man was a gangster, a beautiful, angelic yet devilish gangster.

Gods, get it together Sawamura.

 “Good morning Captain Daichi, Officer Tsukishima.” Suga finally broke the silence, lifting his head slightly as Ennoshita eased the needle from his back and began detailing the final wing. The other omega tipped his head in their direction, but didn’t look up. The smoke from his cigarette drifted across the room, and almost lazily, he steadied the needle, freed one of his hands, took the cigarette from his mouth and tapped it on a porcelain dish beside him. The skill in keeping the needle still in the other man’s body was incredible, the action unmissed by both the alphas. Forgotten by the doorway Makoto huffed.

“Yer such a show-off, Ennoshita.”

“What the fuck did I tell you about names, Makoto.” The omega immediately spat back, containing more venom in his voice than every time Daichi had heard him yesterday combined. He didn’t know the omega could be this expressive, and he wanted to know his and Makoto’s relationship.

“Don’t be such a little bitch.”

Now Tsukishima tuned into the conversation as well, his shit-stirring side curious to see the result. Why was this heavily inked man calling a not so heavily inked man a little bitch? Where was the reasoning behind it? Fascinating.

“Oh fuck off, as if you’re any better – crying to Nomura the minute your beta girlfriend left you.”

“That’s a fucking low blow ‘Shita, at least I’m not a pussy who’s not afraid to go after a girl.”

“You’re limiting your views you dumb shit, only going after a girl when you’re four drinks under. Can’t even impress them when you’re sober. What a sad life.”

Ah. So, they ’re brothers then.

“Ah whatever, can’t ever win wi’ all yer smart arsin’ ‘Shita. At leas’ yer brain makes up for yer’ shit personality.” Makoto rolled his eyes, arms folded over each other. It was back handed compliment – that was for sure, and Ennoshita narrowed his eyes.

“Doesn’t take a bitch ta know where I get it from.” He slipped back into his old dialect easily, converting more to his brother’s formatting of speech then what he learnt at the vocational university where he’d learnt how to properly tattoo people, “An’ I keep telling ya I can pay for ya university fees Makoto.”

“I’m too old, and besides, I’m sure ya friend’s ‘ere don’t want ta hear us havin’ a domestic over money.”

“Suit yourself.” Ennoshita readopted his more formal tone easily, as if slipping into a second skin, and the emotion he’d held in his voice was lost as he looked up from Suga’s back and met eyes with Daichi – the Captain, “How can I help you today Captain, Officer?”

Something sparked in Makoto’s eyes and the older alpha growled lowly, “Imma ignore the fact you just allowed fuckin’ coppers into our shop ‘Shita if you let me ‘ave some o’ ya special blood ink. I wanna try ink Nomura when he’s sleeping.”

Ennoshita pondered for a second, and then shrugged, completely ignoring the way everyone else cringed visibly at the thought of tattooing someone while they were asleep. Suga, quite used to these antics, merely shifted slightly, feeling uncomfortable as some of the ink of his own tattoo leaked back over his skin. The omegan tattooist didn’t let a single thing slip his notice and swabbed it quickly, returning to finishing the wing of the crow after he did. His next comment directed back to his adoptive brother, “Yeah, whatever, just don’t tell him what’s happening here. It’s something to do with work.”

The older alpha left the room promptly with a large smile on his face and Daichi’s throat – which had constricted at the thought of the plans Makoto had for this ‘Nomura’ fellow – allowed air to flow into his lungs again, “Should I be concerned?”

“No, blood tattoos fade after a few weeks so my brothers should be fine.” Monotonous once again – and new information in the form of ‘brothers’ for the ever-inquisitive Captain and the thoroughly confused Tsukishima eager for any scraps of information that may help him stay afloat, “Anyway, as I was saying Captain Daichi – how can we help you?” 

And to Suga, “I’m nearly done Boss, I’m just going to swab you with some disinfectant and get a patch on there to soak up any ink and blood that may leak out.”

The silver-haired omega sighed gently as the cool liquid touched his back and smiled softly – hoping it was visible to the Captain and his fellow, whom he couldn’t see. When he spoke again he kept his voice soft, but cold, “Are you returning the weapons you borrowed?”

“Yes. They’re in the back of my car, all the clothes have been washed, and bullets used have been restocked. The guns were cleaned and knives naturally washed and disinfected.”

Knives, guns? Tsukki’s head was reeling, why do we – the police – need to borrow weapons for fucks sake? Why do we need to borrow clothes?

“Uh.. Captain.” He started hesitantly, but then stopped as the silver haired omega began to lift himself from the table. And all of a sudden Tsukishima knew exactly where he had seen this man before, down the barrel of his sniper rifle as the man had smiled and waved lazily up at him before the most painful moments of his life blossomed in blood red cascades in front of his eyes. Fuck. “Why the fuck are – who the – What? How are you? What the fuck’s happening?”

Suga nearly giggled, but concealed it in a chuckle instead. He stood and scooped his shirt from the ground. Daichi had to bite his tongue to stop himself making a very not safe for work comment that had scurried up from his alphan hindbrain.

“So you must be the guy Magpie-kun shot down in our first encounter. I must say, you really are hesitant with your skills. I might tell you to grow a pair, but I’m worried that might hurt your fragile little ego.” Suga’s eyes were sharp and calculating. Dangerous, thought Tsukki, who merely tsked at the insults and raised his chin slightly. Suga fully laughed, “Oh my, you’re a tough one to crack, aren’t you?

Even with mirth in his voice, the sly glint in his eye never left.

This man standing in front of him was very, very dangerous. He should have died on the night on the raid and instead Tsukki nearly did. Whatever group this man – secondary gender fucking aside – commanded, they were obviously not to be trifled with. And if, Tsukki’s eyes flicked to his Captain’s tense face and clenched jaw (was he really that apprehensive about being in Crow’s presence?), if the station had borrowed weapons and clothes then…, then that meant there was something between them. A deal, negotiation perhaps. But this silver-haired man did not look like one to negotiate on their terms. Just how much did he have the precinct wrapped around his little finger? What the hell had happened when he was out of commission?

•••

Iwaizumi paced the floor, wearing down the same floorboards he’d found his Captain pacing a few nights prior. The entire unit stared at him; their lips pressed tightly closed. The walls, covered in string, newspaper clippings, sticky notes filled with theories and musings was now obscured by a whiteboard, with one big bubble in the middle – CORVIDS.

“Well, we know one of their names.” Kageyama spoke up, remembering the agony in the little omega’s voice as he’d screamed the name of his brother, “Raven-kun yelled out ‘Tadashi’ remember?”

Iwaizumi wrote it up, then followed it with the man’s alter-ego “Magpie”. Following that, he branched off from the CORVIDS sign to write “Raven-kun & Raven-san” as one, then “Jay”, then “CROW” –

“Hey, how come Crow gets done in capitals?” Tanaka blurted, pointing to where Iwaizumi was writing.

“Idiot,” Hissed Kyoutani back, glaring not entirely unkindly at the alpha. He was quite close friends with Tanaka, having shared a bachelor pad with him for quite some years in their youth, “It’s because he’s the leader.”

“It’s because he’s by far the most mysterious.” Iwaizumi said tapping the board beneath the name.

“Don’t forget Rook.”

Oh, that one.

“He was the guy over the speaker right?” Asahi asked, “And didn’t they also have ear pieces?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nodded, and wrote down Rook with a little question mark next to his name, when wrote down ‘earpieces’ in another little branch going off from Rook’s name. Now having all the names up, he quickly scrawled some notes down on physical appearance then asked Kageyama to start running the descriptions through the database of criminals – “We’ll start with the database of people that have criminal records, after that search in the database used for registered omegas. Now did anyone have eyes on how Jay or Magpie fought?”

“Magpie’s their sniper.” Kyoutani and Asahi said at once, minds flicking back to the van where they’d seen him painstakingly clean his sniper rifle. Kyoutani pulled ahead in his explanation, elaborating, “A damn good one at that. Saw him got off like a block from the docks –“

“– yet managed all the shots. Yeah, and he took down Tsukki.” Tanaka finished.

“Who took down me?” Tsukki hobbled into the room, coming as quite a surprise, as no one had heard the door open. Daichi followed quietly, shutting the door with not so much as a sound. Iwaizumi nodded towards the men then frowned at Tsukishima and the poor state he seemed to be in.

“The person who took you down was a man called Tadashi, known as Magpie, part of the Corvid gang who has the entire East Side under their thumb and is currently working with us to take down the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate which operates on the West Side. It’s a deal that Captain set up with the Leader of the gang – where we give them manpower if they give us information about the Syndicate.” Iwaizumi glanced towards Daichi who nodded once, approvingly. It was best to say it straight and just get the initial confusion over with. Daichi took over.

“The men we just met –“ The rest of the group started in surprise then closed what mouths they had opened and waited to hear the rest of their Captain’s explanation. Daichi settled himself on a chair in front of their open semi-circle, joints creaking slightly with tiredness, “Were their Boss – Crow and his subordinate Jay. However, we just found out that Jay is also called Ennoshita and is a brother to the owner of the tattoo parlour Tiger’s Tattoo’s in the downtown port.”

Iwaizumi hurriedly jotted that down on the whiteboard, and Kageyama’s fingers scrawled the name onto the notepad he had beside him at the computer. Tsukishima sagged into his office chair, wincing slightly as his wounded shoulder brushed the upholstery. Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose and continued, “There’s an obvious power imbalance between us, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being used. However, they, just by allowing us to be in their presence are also giving us a lot of extra information – which I’m sure that’s why Iwaizumi called this impromptu meeting, but I thought I’d hash it out for you Tsukkishima. Whatever everyone learned on their respective missions last night – don’t hesitate to share. We need as much information as we can.”

Iwaizumi’s hand twitched, he should say something about the Raven’s multiple bond marks, but the vulnerability he’d been exposed to, been able to be privy to, felt sacred, and he didn’t want to disrupt it. Fortunately, for Iwaizumi’s internal dilemma, Kageyama had no such qualms – “The tall Raven has multiple bond marks.”

From those that didn’t know there was a harsh intake of breath. Kyoutani merely scoffed and Daichi peered at him curiously, “I remember hearing that you interacted with them on occasion when you were undercover. Was Raven one of them?”

“While I was undercover, I was the surrogate head of a central gang and manager of a rut-house. The Corvids came in on occasion, mainly looking for people who had wandered a bit too far into their territory.”

Iwaizumi scribbled – Territorial (?) – onto the whiteboard, followed by a line going off and wrote, Manages East Side on their own (Territory?).

Kyoutani watched him quietly and then continued, “At first there were only three of them. Crow and his Ravens. I got told by the actual head not to mess with them, that was the only time I interacted with the head face to face – though –“

Daichi had started to say something but Kyoutani held up a hand to stop him.

“– I still never saw his face. The taller Raven came from a rut house originally, that’s probably why he has multiple bond marks. It was the worst type of house as well, selling omegas to noble families, loaning them out. Treating them like property.” Kyoutani gritted his teeth, trying not to think about the comment Oikawa had made yesterday, even though it was still fresh in his mind – ‘Ya know, Yahaba-kun…still head over heels for you… despite being beaten… for dating a cop.’. The truth was, he didn’t get pulled for being unstable, he got pulled from his undercover position from beating a man half to death when they laid their hands on his girlfriend, his sweet Yahaba-kun. The little omegan male was getting beaten because of their relationship? Kyoutani rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance, “I didn’t interact with that house much, so I don’t have any details.”

“What do you mean they came in on occasion?” Daichi noted the tension in his fellow, so carefully worded his question to coax more information out of the temperamental alpha. There was so much they needed to know, and secretly, in fact he barely admitted it to himself, secretly he wanted to know everything about the angelic Crow he often found himself with.

“Say one of the men went to the East Side for some… craving some release,” It didn’t take a genius to know what release meant – an alpha in their rut was a dangerous force, “Crow and his Ravens would come in a few days later, and demand that we hand that man over to them. I always did, and we never saw those men again. Uneasy truces.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” Kyoutani didn’t say anything else, undoubtedly thinking about it Daichi supposed, “I’m not sure though.”

A hurried amendment to cover up uncomfortable truth, it was time to take the focus off the poor man. Daichi and Iwaizumi simultaneously cleared their throats, both catching on to the truth in Kyoutani’s statement before anyone else had time to relax. There was a reason they were Captain and Vice-Captain respectively.

“Kageyama have you found any information –“

“I have some security footage of Crow and Jay this morning but, there doesn’t seem to be anything prior to that.” Kageyama typed something into his computer and then looked up. His eyebrows were furrowed and pinched, confused and annoyed, “I haven’t yet tried the names but –“

“Nothing is coming up.” Tsukki cursed as he showed a white screen to the rest of the unit, a search that yielded no results. There were lots of people out there who went by the name ‘Tadashi’, first name and last name – for they didn’t know that detail, but when added with the parameters of ‘omega’ and living in the ‘Port’, there were few results – and none of them fit his physical description, “Not a criminal record, not even a name – it’s as if he never existed.”

Now this was interesting information. Daichi, tired though he was, pulled himself to his feet and strode over to the desk. The rest of the unit also drifted over, intrigued. Even Kageyama stood and looked over his desk to peer at Tsukki’s. It caught everyone’s attention. The blond-haired alpha turned back to his computer and awkwardly began to type in Ennoshita, his left-hand darting over the keyboard, right arm still snug in his sling.

Name [Specify First/Last if applicable]: «Ennoshita »

Gender [Select F/M/NA]: «Male »

Secondary Gender [Select A/B/O]: «Omega »

Description [Key word defining characteristics if applicable]: «Black hair / Tattooed / Dark eyed »

A click as the search was entered.

Anxious, apprehensive faces as they sat there watching the grey spinning wheel on the screen as the computer ran the parameters past all male omegas in the database.

There was nothing.

Tsukki got rid of the defining characteristics, just in case. Clicked enter again.

They waited some more.

Tanaka could feel a sweat bead forming on his forehead, the room uncomfortably hot. Daichi didn’t know if he should breath or not as they waited, nearly mesmerised by the spinning wheel. So close to retrieving information and yet – so far.

And slowly, but also in a blink of an eye – the end of an eternity it felt like – the screen flashed and changed.

No results.

“This is…” Daichi paused, unsure of how to classify it.

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at the computer, still not really knowing what was going on – still quite in shock from the information that his superiors had overloaded him with, but sharp enough to put two and two together, “This is very suspicious Captain. Even if they’ve tampered with their records, there should still be records. It would take someone very skilled to wipe everything completely. This is just preliminary but there…”

“There should still be something.” Nodded, agreed. Murmurs of assent from the other alphas. Something about this rubbed them the wrong way.

The Corvids must have much more influence than they initially thought. Influence perhaps in the higher rungs of society. In places that perhaps, even the law couldn’t touch.

“Well… what do we do?” The elephant in the room was addressed by Asahi, looking at the practicalities without actually looking himself.

“We might have to call in the Nekoma Unit Captain. They deal with politician’s and their tech informant is well practiced in recovering erased information.” Iwaizumi snapped to attention immediately, reminded by Asahi, mind whirring already with potential plans and methods of attack. Kageyama nodded enthusiastically also adding in his say, “Captain Kuroo-san will be able to help.”

His say was not so helpful it turned out, but it backed up Iwaizumi’s statement regardless. Daichi tilted his head and let out a low chuckle, “Not likely, we –“

“We need the information fast. Especially on Rook. If that’s the same person who wiped their records, we need to get them on our radar now.” Iwaizumi pressed his captain, urgency seeping into his voice.

“You want to know what their origins are right?” As usual, Tsukishima’s sharp tongue cut straight through the half-constructed barrier Daichi had tried to mask his curiosity with. The Captain groaned – he felt attacked.

“Fine.” Gritted teeth, “But I won’t be calling Kuroo. The bastard likes nothing better than to one up me. Can’t help it that he’s still bitter about coming second in school, spiteful –“

Daichi muttered this as he stood up and roughly grabbed his phone from his desk. His head throbbed and protested loudly as he did so, and for a second there he nearly blacked out. How come sleep had eluded him so much these past few days? Stupid silver angel.

He punched in the numbers, glaring at his unit. It had no effect, Tanaka snickering, jabbing Asahi in the side as he did so, Kyoutani glaring right back and the two men at the computers still desperately manipulating the parameters to come up with something, anything. Iwaizumi merely stared coolly back – ‘Hit call, I dare you,’ his eyes seemed to say.

He pressed call.

Ring.

Ring.

“Hello, Minister of Justice’s office speaking, how can I help you?” Fake honey tones of a secretary.

“Hello Amy –“ They were well acquainted – “Captain Sawamura Daichi speaking, can you put me through to the Minister of Justice please? It’s urgent.”

“You’re lucky Daichi-san, he’s free of all appointments currently. I’ll just let him know and then put you through.”

Chimes of some soft music began to start, prompted by some clicks on the other side. The alpha waited, patiently – hoping that it wouldn’t take the half-hours’ he’d had to wait before. The Minister was a busy man, and for good reason, managing the entire judicial system was a hefty job, and he didn’t always have time for Daichi’s own detective unit. But – as there was a click, and a gruff clearing of the throat – it seemed luck was on their side today.

“Ah Captain Sawamura what can I do for you today son?” Despite the formalities at the start, the Minister was surprisingly fatherly – the same protective paternal quality that had Daichi signing up to the force in the first place. He gripped the phone slightly tighter.

“Sir, we’ve made a breakthrough on the Omega Trafficking Case – but we need solid proof. It seems as if the records we are trying to chase have been removed from the system.”

“I see. So are you telling me you’ll need to borrow…”

“Yes, that’s right Sir. If you may allow it, I’d like to request your son’s services.”

“Consider it done Captain Sawamura. Kenma would be happy to oblige.”

Chapter Text

Kenma closed the door to his room carefully, taking his hand-held device from his hoodie pocket. It was a device of his own creation, one that he made for the sole purpose of ‘playing games’ and making sure that no one could ever get in to his home computers, and never ever get past his hacking. Thumbing some buttons quickly, he locked his computers – closing down everything on them, and set up the security measures, the ones that would bring up every YouTube video about cute cats to the front of the screen at once, and the ones that would immediately alert him of an intruder. From his hoodie pocket his phone buzzed.

The little omega knew immediately who it was from, and slipped away his hand-held device (it looked like a phone, but was able to fold in the middle until it resembled a handheld game console), replacing it with a phone in his hand. The screen flicked on, lock screen flashing with new messages.

[8:13am]

Kuroo: Hey, have you eaten yet this morning?

Kuroo: Kitten, remember to eat.

Kuroo: Also do you have any information on the Duke case ? Lord Haiba needs to know, he ’s been allocated as a replacement for another one of the Duke ’s meetings and is starting to pressure us. He wants an update.

 [8:46am]

Kuroo: Get your arse down to the table right now. I ’m not cooking for one here and I know you ’re awake.

Kuroo: Kenmmmmaaa.

Kuroo: Kitten.

Kuroo: Kozume.

Kuroo: Kozume, kitten.

Kuroo: I know you ’re awake.  

Kenma glanced up slightly at the time. It was 8:49. He sighed and shuffled forwards towards the stairs. As he did his phone chimed again.

[8:49am]

Kuroo: I ’ll come up and take your games away.

 Kenma blanched. Despite being threatened like this nearly every other day he still had this visceral reaction to the threat. When Kuroo said take away his games, that meant entering his room. And entering his room meant seeing his six monitors, microphone, camera, lights, gaming chair. The printer, the scanner, the radar system. The notes plastered to his desk of numbers and combinations, codes and signals. He was a hacker, and this amount of technological things should be expected, and he was a gamer so this amount of technological things should be expected — but — Kenma was paranoid and Kuroo was nearly too smart, and any possibility of Kuroo finding out about his other occupation sent chills rocketing down his spine.

Kuroo could not find out.

No one could find out.

There were only four people who knew about this and that. And they were Suga, Oikawa, Hinata and himself. There was no ability to fully describe how much Kenma wanted it to stay that way. If he were to be found out, he’d be dead before he even knew it.

[8:51am]

Kenma: I ’m coming downstairs.

He paused, standing still at the top of the stairs, fingers hovering over the on-screen keyboard again. Should he..? Yeah, might as well.

[8:52 am]

Kenma: don ’t go into my room

He slipped his phone back away, adrenaline ebbing slightly. It chimed again but he ignored it. The omega didn’t want to go through the hassle of pulling out his phone again, knowing it was just Kuroo’s snarky response, and not of anything of importance. What was of importance though was getting those police officer’s background checks to the Corvids – some of their backgrounds would be of use, and should be viewed as a warning. Kenma never would’ve guessed that Officer Kageyama would have ties with the Northern Military forces, nor his older sister’s place within the upper echelons of the Department of Defence – the department responsible for all military actions. It was concerning, how close the Officer could’ve come to knowing the Corvid’s past persona’s, because as Kenma knew only too well, Hinata wasn’t always the way he was now, and Suga had only blossomed in the freedom he now fought for in others.

Kenma traipsed languidly down the stairs, lost in his thoughts.

He wondered how Hinata was doing.

It had been too long since he saw the man face to face.

8 years in fact.

“Kenmmmaaa.” Someone called as his first step against the marble of the ground floor rung through the abode. His slippers slapped lightly as he walked out into the large open area of the kitchen. Unlike many other residences in The Port, this house had decided to make space for itself, oceanfront views and a large open-plan living space. The sea breeze hit his nose with a slap and instantly he felt more awake. It had always been like this. He couldn’t remember going a week without looking out onto the deep ocean blue, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Though one would be hard-pressed to see him enter its depths – even up to his knees.

Kuroo stood on the deck, steaming mug of hot something in his hands, twisted back to look at the small omega. He was already dressed in a well-ironed suit, cufflinks engraved in delicate patterns, sporting an intricate cursive ‘K’. The symbol of his House and his wealth – the proclamation of his nobility. His lips curled up into a small smile.

“There’s pancakes here for you, Kitten. Still warm, though cooling by the second.”

Kenma stepped from marble to the polished wood of the deck, and sat at the couch Kuroo stood behind, sinking into the swath of blankets it held. He nestled up silently and watched the steady crash of the waves. It wasn’t just oceanfront views – it was oceanfront access. Steady crash of the waves and the smell of salt spray, and the warmth that came from a mug that Kuroo pressed into his hands.

There was a slight sheen of saliva from where the alpha had drunk from it, but Kenma paid it no mind, and sipped happily from it.

“Your Dad’s been trying to contact me.”

There was no happiness in the next sip Kenma took, and he set the mug down on the coffee table, switching his attention to the plate of pancakes, “Oh? What’s he saying? Does he need to me to partake in another fruitless courtship?”

Kuroo laughed, and sat on the couch perpendicular to Kenma’s own, looking out of place against the multicoloured blankets that piled high on that one. For a few moments he shifted uncomfortably, and then settled, pulling a cushion out from underneath his arse and setting it beside him. His gaze did not turn to the ocean, as Kenma’s had done, but instead remained fixed on the small omega – watching him carefully.

“No. Though when he called earlier he had some choice words about our arrangement.”

Kenma gave a dry chuckle, “By all means, please elaborate. What phrases did he use this time? Will we be able to complete the bingo board yet?”

It was sarcasm, but well-placed and well-loved by Kuroo, not minding the subversion of society’s standards. The alpha had been around Kenma long enough to understand and appreciate all parts of the man for who he was – not just his secondary gender, “He used the word unnatural about twenty times. The Minister seemed determined, honestly, to drill it into my skull.”

“Oh, that word,  don’t worry,” Kenma took a small square of fruit into his mouth – humming gently as the watermelon’s light taste blossomed against his tongue, “You only know it’s a problem when you start dreaming about it. The old man’s never been one for compromise.”

To be fair, their arrangement was quite unnatural by a traditionalist’s stance. For an alpha and an omega to be living together outside courtship was very much unheard of, and if heard, as expressed by the Minister of Justice quite frankly to Kuroo Tetsurou at a dinner party one night – ‘behaviour very much frowned upon’.

“Well, anyway. He says the Central Division’s detective unit is requesting your services.”

Of course, they would. As if I wouldn ’t wipe the web of any information of my co-workers. It ’s just common fucking decency.

“Ah… but I don’t… do I really have to go to there?"

Would they recognise my voice?

“It’s too much effort Kuroo.”

I need to get those background checks to Tadashi like I promised. I don ’t want to have a disappointed Suga on my hands.

“Yes, and your father insists that he meet with you beforehand.” Kuroo didn’t miss the way Kenma’s grip on blankets tightened. The omega’s two-toned hair somewhat hid his face, but the alpha could tell by the small amount of scent that naturally followed the omega, that the small man did not find that prospect entertaining. Kenma smelt delicately of lavender and salt spray, and though it was only faint, Kuroo could smell the souring of both distinct aspects, “Though of course, given your unique employment with my own highly exclusive detective unit, I would be dishonouring my family’s name by not accompanying you.

The mock pompousness in his voice was not lost on Kenma who smirked and rolled his eyes, and then said in a small voice, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. He’s just going to get onto you again for allowing me to seduce you or some shit, for taking me away from him.”

“Well Kitten,” Kuroo leaned forward, pulling Kenma’s gaze from the ocean and onto the alpha. He reached one expensively sleeved arm, extended a large alphan hand and booped the omega gently on the nose, seriousness teasing across his face, “Let’s just be glad that he can’t do anything to harm me, because my name is older than his mindset, and he can’t do anything to hurt you because you’re with me.”

It was true. And it was also false.

Because there was so much The Minister of Justice could do to hurt Kenma, because there were so many secrets hiding in the shrinking shadows of the dark. So many secrets that would give him the death sentence, a head on a stake after being severed by a blunt guillotine – would prompt the reversion of humanity to inhumanity. Kenma had done some highly illegal shit, and the laws weren’t kind to omegas. No one ever believed the word of an omega over an alpha – no matter what the status of the omega was.  

But it was also true, because Kuroo was a Lord. And there was a stark difference between the Ministers and the Departments to people who were Lords and Dukes. One party was with the Government, the other Nobility. The government had people constantly being replaced, those were the beings employed to ensure that the country ran smoothly. The nobility were the people, were the names, that had been there since the beginning – the people that had ensured the masses had a country to inhabit in the first place.

 Nowadays the line was blurred, still about names and faces and titles, but the line now depended on money. Money and power. Kuroo was old money, his name alone caused people to bow their heads in submission. Kenma’s father was new money, an outstanding general who had risen the ranks of the military as if climbing a ladder – who had played the politician game until he’d called the monopoly on the Department of Justice. Kenma knew where he got his brains from, he just like playing slightly different games.

Kenma’s type of games, the playing and messing with people, the toying of information as if it were just that – a toy, had led him here, three hours later, at precisely twelve o’clock standing in front of the Central Sides main police station. Kuroo stood behind him, an ever-present guard for the rest of humanity – because Kuroo sure as hell wasn’t guarding someone who could take care of himself.

The Captain of their detective unit met them. And did Daichi Sawamura look a mess. Kenma was reminded that Suga did not come lightly to the blank page, and the book that was this officer was very much inscribed. It took a lot for someone to get even an ounce of fear from Kenma, and yet Suga had managed to do it by proxy.

“Good morning, ah, Kenma-san,” Daichi started, then in seeing Kuroo, grit his teeth. The competitiveness between the two alphas never ceased to amaze Kenma, “Kuroo.”

The alphas shook hands with the intent to break them. Knuckles white and smiles forced. Canines just slightly bared – just a little bit less than polite. When they broke apart, their gazes both turned to Kenma, dressed in what his father would call inappropriate and what Kuroo aptly called stylish. Of course, the alpha had said that while he was dressed in his own literal razor-sharp suit, so while getting into the loose and comfortable black slacks paired with a dark red jumper that had been picked, the omega had thought the comment somewhat backhanded. He had taken it anyway, worn the clothes despite Kuroo’s smirk, knowing exactly how the other captain would react. Lips parted slightly; eyebrows knitted. Had he been staring into a security camera instead of standing in front of said person, Kenma would’ve laughed. But his face remained impassive.

Daichi was too tired, and the red hurt his eyes. He bowed politely to the esteemed guest, knowing that as an alpha physical interaction with an unbonded omega was considered uncouth.

“This way please.” And so, they entered the building.

“I must preface this by warning you that I haven’t slept in over 36 hours, and may have to excuse myself at some point to get an espresso shot."

“Don’t worry Captain. I haven’t slept either.” Kenma didn’t allow his face to shift expressions, bored. Kuroo frowned concerned. The small omega had most definitely been asleep – or at least unresponsive when he’d knocked on the door last night, but Kenma wasn’t one for outright lies. Kenma specialised in subversion. Kuroo wondered if the omega had had his headphones on while gaming. Even though he claimed they hurt his ears, he still wore them profusely.

For the past week Kenma was supposed to be solely investigating the Duke’s records, but had instead been procrastinating. Instead, been working on his other set of tasks – one’s that no one on the force could know about. Last night had been the second time he’d touched the dark history of the Duke, and his report was meant to be submitted an hour ago. Though, Kenma knew he’d be given leeway until the evening.

“I recommend a double espresso shot myself,” He said, catlike eyes flicking up to the Captain and then back down as they rounded a corner and stopped in front of a door.

Daichi chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck then opened the door. Kenma was immediately assaulting by the overwhelming scents of tired, angry alphas and nearly recoiled visibly. But he managed to keep it to the slightest of flinches, knowing that in his position the very hint of a weakness could have him in an unfavourable position. He’d been raised on that fact. Though, Kuroo noticed, because Kuroo always noticed and he placed a gentle hand on the small of Kenma’s back.

The omega neither accepted it nor denied it, but he walked forward with the two Captains following.

The Central Division’s detective unit was huddled around one screen, a heavily wounded – Kenma’s sensitive nose could smell the blood – alpha seated and the rest standing around him.

“Goddamnit!” The bald one shouted, and Kenma recognised him from his research to be Officer Ryunosuke Tanaka, “It’s like they never fucking existed – and yet, fucking hell, I saw them with my own fucking goddamn eyes.”

“Shut up Tanaka I’m trying to think here.” The heavily wounded one – Officer Kei Tsukkishima – groaned, rubbing up under his glasses with his only free hand. He looked exhausted. They all did.

Exhausted and on edge. Kenma guessed that’s how Suga liked his alphan puppets. Though the head honcho would have to step aside for a while, because Kenma wanted to have his turn playing with the toys.

“Excuse me.” He drawled, shifting from a place of quiet observation to a more bored, authoritarian tone. Despite his omegan status, everyone stopped.

“Good morning Kenma-san,” Tsukkishima was the first to say, head turning in his direction. The tall blond alpha was familiar with the short omega, having both registered in the same online university course. Kenma had graduated with the highest mark on record, and Tsukkishima had merely blended in with the masses – content with mediocrity. It was half a surprise that he wasn’t bitter about an omega beating him, but Kenma thought with the slightest hint of respect for the alpha, Tsukkishima wasn’t really one to consider secondary genders. Too much effort, Kenma remembered the bored tone of the other in one online lesson.

The other alphas bowed slightly, mumbling their own iterations of ‘good morning’. Kenma bowed back, “Do you think you might be able to spare a seat? No don’t move Officer Tsukkishima –“

A few people did a double take at the ease in which Kenma spoke Tsukki’s name, but not knowing a shared history would do that to onlookers, so the omega ignored it.

“– you’re wounded. I guess the sniper did some damage didn’t they?”

His words were chosen for the effect, and their effect was delayed by only a second of reeling confusion. Daichi eyebrows would’ve drawn together had he still been in the room (he’d gone off to get a double – he made it triple – shot of espresso), so Iwaizumi’s did it in his stead. Kageyama put it best, “How the fuck do you know that?”

Kuroo growled lowly, reminding everyone of his presence – of which no one had actually acknowledged on entry, which was slightly pissing him off, “Easy there, Officer. Do I need to remind you that Kenma is a part of my unit? Show a bit of respect, please. One would think your Captain would teach you manners even if your mother didn’t.”

Oh my god, Kuroo. This is why I didn’t want you to come. Kenma sighed and looked at the reddening of Kageyama’s face with narrowed eyes, “Please Officers, let’s not go down this avenue of baseless insults.”

“Oooh, they’re far from baseless Kenma.”

“Kuroo, I need you to shut up.” He hissed at the alpha, “Now, if someone wouldn’t mind me borrowing their computer and a chair, I would like to start the job I came here to do.”

Kuroo merely rolled his eyes and smirked, shifting his hand on the omega’s back to his shoulder. His scent blanketed the omega and Kenma found himself also rolling his eyes, and relaxing. It was Kuroo’s way of saying that he needed to leave for a short while. The omega nodded slightly then shifted out from under his grip as the alphan officers of Daichi’s detective unit moved to reveal a chair beside Tsukkishima.

The omega sat.

For a split moment he was still, then he slowly, languidly moved to turn the computer on. Slowly pulled up the databases that the Officers frequently used to search for criminals and civilians in. Databases that he frequently wiped of all information for many small omegan pups, all the ones that wished to be lost by the system. Kenma was partially responsible for The Port’s label of being the city of ‘Lost and Never Found’. The screen flickered as he pulled them up, and for another second he was still – feeling the eyes of many officers on  him, on the screen he sat in front of. Kenma could feel Tsukkishima’s eyes studying him critically. This feeling never got better, as his omegan instincts, primal and primitive, screamed at him to run from the pack of alphas. But he had to stay seated, do his job.

Do both jobs.

And his fingers began to fly.

So many applications, windows of running code that he was altering in real time. He claimed Tsukki’s desktop as his own and tilted that computer towards him as well – two screens. Search engines auto filling, running millions of searchs in the spaces of seconds.

Everyone watched him, and no one had a clue what he was doing. Tsukki was somewhat aware of data collection, knew how to retrieve some things that were lost. But compared to Kenma, he was a like a conscript against a veteran. The speed at which Kenma’s fingers flew across the keyboard in calculated precision – there was no way the blonde alpha could follow that, especially not when the drugs in his system had worn off and his head had begun to throb again in time with the throbbing in this right side.

“Ah.” The omega sighed, numbers flying across the screen, “They’re toying with me.”

“What?” Someone behind him breathed.

Kenma laughed drily, eyes not moving from the screen. Answered breathlessly, “The damn hacker on the other side is playing with me.”

His catlike eyes narrowed as he surveyed the code that flashed before him. It was his own work that he was playing with. In fact, he wasn’t even playing with that. He was altering the code for his security systems at home and when he had finished messing around with that, changing the colours for unit’s default font, and highlight formatting. But the thing was, he played it off as if it was urgent, as if there was another entity on the other side actively engaged in a ‘battle’ of sorts. No one knew a goddamn thing about hacking, and for that he was glad.

The scent in the room shifted slightly as Kuroo entered. The alpha had just taken a call from Lord Haiba – had a cool, collected, yet heated and tense discussion on how to get the duke out in the open and expose him – so as he stepped back into the room, there was tension in his body. Kenma could tell by the shift in atmosphere alone.

The omega was still at the computer, and Kuroo narrowed his eyes as his suspicions rose, “Kenma stop messing with them. Just give them the information.”

But I ’m trying to play for time. I can ’t just hand out the information of some of my closest colleagues.

“Tch.” Kenma closed some of the applications running and focused on the code in front of him. With a few well-placed taps, entries, deletions and modifications, the search engine still auto-filling – two files popped up, records. It was the barest of bones of both Tadashi’s and Ennoshita’s files. Downloaded them, closed the applications, disconnected Tsukki’s monitor from his own and with a final hiss at Kuroo, Kenma sighed, “With the information you’ve given me, this is all I can retrieve. Bear in mind that the next time you want my services, I expect to be paid.”

Sorry Suga. Kuroo can see through fucking everything.

He stood and Kuroo leaning against the wall, previously looking at some of the newspaper articles that were printed and secured to the web of required information, turned towards him. Daichi also stood next to Kuroo holding a mug of steaming something, that even from where Kenma was, smelt slightly of coffee – a strong, strong cup of coffee, nearly acrid as the omega walked closer. Though that could also have been attributed to the sheer fucking tiredness of the man and any scent subconsciously leaked.

“Thank you Kenma-san.” Iwaizumi nodded towards him and everyone nodded enthusiastically. Tanaka nearly went in for a handshake before Kageyama pulled him back frowning, hissing in a low voice to the other, “Don’t, it’s rude.”

“Yes, thank you. You will get paid sometime soon,” Daichi began, “Though I may have to ask for your services again Kenma-san, the gang we’re tracking aren’t exactly loose with their tongues.”

A few chuckles spread from people like Kageyama and Iwaizumi but quickly stopped as they remembered the fierceness in the omegas’ eyes. The Ravens, while not liberal with their tongues, were not restricted in their violence, and the two alphas felt nearly instinctively at risk by laughing behind their backs – even in fond memory.

“I’m well aware of the Corvid gang Captain Daichi.”

Eyebrows raised.

“You are?” Any questions that would have been held back by politeness were let go of in haste and exhaustion. Kenma nodded, somewhat pleased that this man was so easy to toy with. Kuroo leant forward and joined the conversation with a sly, “Still looking out for simple street gangs, Daichi?”

“Oh, you’d think –“ Daichi started annoyed.

“Of course, I’m aware of them. All omegas are. The East Side is well known for being a safe hub for omegas, and any omega with the ‘Found’ tattoo are treated very well in their community.”

This was news to both alphas. Kuroo couldn’t help but side-eye the smaller man, wondering how he came to know this, and Daichi openly stared wondering how much he knew about the gang.

“So… uh… forgive me if I’m being rude, but why don’t omega’s just tattoo themselves with that, if it keeps them safe?”

Kenma shook his head. He didn’t know exactly how much information he should disclose, but this was common sense to most people so he guessed he was just filling in these clueless coppers, “There’s only a few tattooists in the area, and they’re all too scared of what will happen if their found out. Do you really want that gang on your tail?”

“Have you had personal experience with them?” It slipped easily off Daichi’s tongue, and Kuroo had to nod, also intrigued. As much as he hated to admit it he agreed with the other captain, intrigued by the breadth of knowledge his colleague possessed. Kenma was somewhat of an enigma – even if he was easy to read.

“We all have. Their connections range further than you expect. My advice is to stay far away from them Daichi.” The drop of honorifics, the slip-up on Kenma’s part betrayed the silent warning in his voice. And the warning while clear, was simultaneously cryptic, “The waters are deep and murky, and it would be so sad to see you sinking.”

Well, maybe he was just insulting the Captain in the subtle way the Kuroo so admired. The alphan Captain brushed it off as insult, but the alpha to which it was directed couldn’t shake the unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. It might have just been paranoia and suspicion in his exhaustion, but something seemed slightly off. Why had Kenma tried to warn Daichi, he was the Captain of a well-run, quite smart detective unit – what did they have to worry about a rag-tag gang?

And then the Captain’s mind drifted to all the events that had happened over the past few days, and he caught his thinking – no, they weren’t a rag-tag gang, they treated themselves and their work more as a business. A business that… despite signing a deal with them… the detectives still didn’t know. Could they really call themselves detectives? Daichi rubbed at his eyes and sighed, “Thank you for your warning Kenma-san, though I find ourselves to be swimming along quite fine. Do you need me to escort you two out?”

Kenma shook his head, and nodded to Kuroo.

The duo turned to leave, Kuroo crossing the threshold to the corridor first, whistling slightly, hands in his pant pockets. Kenma however, paused, turning to look back at the files at which the alphan officers were now reading with colour draining from their faces – he needed to tell Crow what had happened. As soon as possible.

“C’mon Kenma, we’re going to be late.”

Kenma shuffled out of the room, and together they walked from the building. Only when they were out by the car, buckling themselves into the back of the it – Kuroo had a driver that he paid very handsomely – did Kenma inquire – “What are we late for?”

“The memorial service is today.” Kuroo didn’t meet Kenma’s gaze as the smaller stared up at him.

“Oh.”

“It’s been 8 years today. Ya know, since we lost…” Kuroo trailed off, confident voice uncharacteristically small.

Kenma didn’t need to hear it to know the lie that would roll of Kuroo’s tongue. It hurt him to have conceal the truth from the alpha, when it hurt him so much. Kuroo swallowed, blinking back tears.

“He was so young. Barely an adult. But that fucking fire. That fucking fire.” 

That fucking fire, that he started himself – that he killed his former self in.

Kenma nodded, “Just remember the good times Kuroo.”

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this again. I know how it is to lose a colleague, but I’ve never lost a pack member. Do you –“ Kuroo swallowed and finally turned a loosened expression to. His normal smirk was absent, and the wear of the world was apparent on his face. The experience of his Lordship, and of his years of experience in the military field coalesced in the slight frown lines already forming on the man’s face. He looked slightly defeated. It was one of the only days of the year he allowed himself to feel this way, “Do you want to be late?”

Kenma thought of the mourners and the black-clad figures, all the proper ‘mourning attire’, and then to his red jumper and black work slacks. He thought of the photos that would be displayed – his best friend’s mouth curled upwards in a smile, eyes wide – in neither joy nor happiness, unsmiling. Forced. Fake. Just like their sadness. He could already see the other Lord’s crocodile tears. And his grip tightened on the upholstery of the seats, his teeth gritted, “Let’s go straight there.”

Even if it was a lie. If the jasmine and sunflowers laid in memorial were in memory of a name still attached to the living. Kenma still felt the need to pay his respects. Perhaps, out of guilt? Maybe. Kuroo definitely felt the weight on his shoulders, of a dropped responsibility whose repercussions continued to spread. Kenma just couldn’t tell him, that the alpha’s ‘blunder’ had allowed him to scape.

And now, sitting in the car, on the way to the memorial service for a person who wasn’t dead, Kenma couldn’t help but wonder;

What do you look like now?                                              

How much have you changed?

Are you still the omega I once knew and loved?

When can I see you again, Shoyou?

• ••

Suga was out. Ennoshita was working. Oikawa was on ‘Found’  duty. Natsu was cooking lunch for the pups. Noya – who seemed to be a natural caretaker, and stabiliser for those struggling – was tending to Tadashi’s wounds and helping the omega sit up in bed (it had already taken them half an hour of trying) so he could eat. As far as he knew, Rook was otherwise occupied – no one had answered when he had tried the ear piece. And so, Hinata knew definitively, that he had a few hours of free time to himself.

And what a perfect opportunity it was.

Because there were a few loose ends that needed to be, for lack of better phrase… tied up.

Hinata stood in front of one of the loose ends. And end that would soon be coming for the unconscious alpha, but only after every single piece of information had been slowly and painfully extracted. He was a hostage. Hinata smiled darkly to himself, a canine showing over one full bottom lip – this would be so much fucking fun.

The room was dark, concrete roughly cut at to form the shape of the circular room. This had been some sort of chemical factory before this side of the industrial estate was abandoned and these rooms that researchers had previously used for holding human test-subjects, proved useful for the Corvids’ purpose. A singular light bulb was shrouded by plastic, the switch external and the light provided pitiful. But either way, the alpha seated in the centre of the round room was illuminated, harsh shadows thrown to his already numerous scrapes.

Bare skin presented in yellow light, waiting to be cut.

Hinata threw a bucket of water over his head, satisfaction coming from the jerk of the alpha waking, the coughing and the blearily opening eyes.

“Whe..” The alpha started to rasp, but stopped as Hinata lifted the knife, breath catching in his throat. Not to the tip of the chin that many others seemed to default to in a sort of sexy, alluring, dangerous sort of way – that sort of position was Oikawa’s favourite – but instead to the faintest set of laugh lines winging the alpha’s left eye.  A blood bead pooled and trickled down the length of the knife, coming to soak and rest at the hilt. They both watched it in morbid fascination.

“Good afternoon sleepyhead.” Light words contrasted against dark tone. Hinata laughed at the look on the alpha’s face – petrified. The alpha didn’t know what was coming next, he had been trained to handle police interrogations, and was merely told to beg for death if he ever landed in the hands of another gang. Hiroshi had warned him of the Covid gang, however, tutting at their mental instability and their insatiable instinct for blood – ‘you would wish you were dead, but at least you’d have pretty omegas by your side’. The alpha remembers his boss laughing, chortling over a whiskey, but no laugh rose today. The omega standing in front of him was not ‘pretty’, but furious filled with blood-lust, a scowl twisting passably feminine features into an ugly expression. The alpha spat at Hinata’s feet.

Hinata raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? I was going to ask how you wanted to do this. But I guess an alpha overrun by instinct isn’t much use to ask.” Sweetly, venom coated in darkened honey – like the glint in his eye, “Here’s how it’s going to work alpha. I’m going to ask you questions. You’re going to tell me absolutely everything you know. If you don’t? –“ Hinata pressed slightly harder with the knife, drawing more blood. This time it dripped down the alpha’s face and the omega licked his lips, “– Well, I think you know what will happen.”

“Fuck you. I’m not talking. I’ve paid my –“

The alpha cut himself off with a throaty, blood-curdling scream, one that echoed in the small confines and sent shivers of ecstatic glee rocketing up and down Hinata’s body. Blood gushed from where his ear used to be, the mangled bit of flesh flopping to the floor. The knife glinted silver, and the fresh blood caught the light – shining. If, that is, blood could shine.

“Oh my, look what we have here.” With not an ounce of hesitation Hinata picked up the blood covered appendage from the concrete ground – and showed it to the alpha. His face paled immediately and Hinata stepped back to avoid the vomit that forced itself past the alpha’s mouth. The man groaned, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I highly doubt that, given the fact that you’ll be the one to kill yourself. But that’s a story for another time.” Hinata flicked the knife back to the alpha’s face, drawing lines with the tip. He pressed deep enough to draw blood but not deep enough for it to spill. Almost like multitudes of paper cuts on the alpha’s face. The man did not stop moaning, voice raw – just from that one scream earlier. Hinata paid the moans no mind, loosely tracing wobbly lines of the word ‘LOST’ onto the alpha’s face, “First questions first, do you work under Hiroshi, the man that manages 75% of the rut houses in The Port?”

Straight to the point, Hinata kept the alpha’s gaze, daring him to lie. Almost wishing he would.

The alpha grit his teeth, “No.”

Hinata grinned, his wish granted. He tutted softly, “Wrong answer.”

And then he did something that the alpha had heard of, seen, administered and never wished to experience himself. Needless to say, it wasn’t the alpha’s lucky day. Hinata grabbed his foot, positioned the flat of the knife so that it was under the lip of the largest toenail. The alpha didn’t even have time to gasp in apprehension as the Hinata’s muscles clenched, and the knife hurtled upwards – bringing the nail with it.

It was different kind of scream. Less definitive, if gurgled and gasped – almost bubbling from the alpha’s abdomen, then trailed off to loud whimpers of pain.

Blood spattered and the skin was completely torn and mangled, but only Hinata could see that, the alpha’s head lolling forward then tipping back as his eyes glazed over with the pain.

“Fuckkkk. You bastard. Sick fuckkking bastard.” The alpha panted, each word back up by low groans.

Hinata merely laughed slightly and shook his head, “Nine more toes, then ten fingers. How many questions are you willing to lie for?”

The omega leaned in slightly, allowed some of his scent to trickle out into the surrounding air, filling the room with acrid ginger and rotting sunflower – he could never really control how it smelled, not when he was this angry at the man who had dared hurt his family. The alpha strained against the rope that held him tied to the chair – the blood drenching the beige material. The word Hinata had traced onto his face shifted with each laboured breath, as the alpha breathed through the pain.

“Let me ask you again.” Hinata said once he was sure the alpha wasn’t going to smart-arse another comment, “Do you work for Hiroshi?”

The alpha didn’t say anything, gritting his teeth, but his head moved by itself, dropping forward in a tired nod. Almost delirious – that was the state Hinata wanted him in. Pliant, easy to control and manipulate, easy to extract answers from.

“Good alpha.” He mocked gently, laughing softly, “Though because you were so disobedient before, I think I might take another nail with me.”

The omega loved messing with the alphas when they were in this state, making his tone low, sweet and seductive – messing with their instincts, as much as he wanted – giving their alphan hindbrain hope through the pain that he subjected their bodies to. And Hinata was the only one in the unit that could do this so well. Oikawa, unlike his usual flirty, overt egoistic self, grew quiet and serious – intimidating more than manipulating – liking the thrill of warm flesh under boot and seeing the alpha bite back. And Suga, after the first time, no one had stayed to watch Suga interrogate ever again – in fact no one entered the building when Suga was interrogating his victims. And they were victims. It was the only time Suga released his potent dominating scent and drove the alphas to insanity, not to mention the methods of torture the older omega had used. Traditional but still – not pleasant to watch.

It was Hinata who interrogated people now, for every new alpha he held under his thumb, a new method was used. He loved it. And so did Tadashi. The two would often sit together in their free time, imagining ways to hurt alphas, giggling at the fucked-up shit they’d come up with. It was a good bonding experience, and the nail idea the other omega had actually come up with himself.

So Hinata positioned his knife under the alpha’s other big toenail, and flicked it up, revelling in the dry painfilled scream that left their alphas throat. Fascinating how many different sounds he could illicit from the victim. The alpha began to tear up, and the blood that had start to bead in the shallow cuts Hinata had made across his face, trickled down. His face was a mess of tears and blood.

“Are you a part of the omega trafficking crime syndicate?”

“No.. no I’m not.”

Another lie? Hinata grinned again, “Are you sure about that?”

“P-please.”

Begging already? “Pathetic, aren’t you an alpha?” Hinata tsked gently, grin still plastered on his face. The cool edge of the knife against the man’s toe brought his eyes flying open again.

“NO! P-please, I – I’ll tell you.”

“Too late. A lie’s a lie.”

And then another scream ricocheted through the room, as the third nail ripped off and got picked up by Hinata and placed beside the first two. He didn’t want to make the clean-up process that difficult for himself.

The alpha’s eyes were bloodshot when he opened them again, and his eyes slid around as if submerged in treacle – and Hinata knew the man was in too much pain to focus. Perfectly pliant. Blood soaked both their feet but it spilled from only one man. The alpha’s tears wet the rag of a shirt he was wearing and the light flickered above them.

“Fucking hell.” The man slurred, to no one but himself and the apparent demons that resided behind Hinata’s ear. The omega ignored the comment, pressing his own agenda instead.

“Are you a part of the omega trafficking crime syndicate?”

“Y-yes, plea-please don’t hurt me.”

Hinata’s lip curled into a sneer at the statement, and he wanted to hit the alpha – but he’d been given the correct information, so it was time to reward him, “Good. That’s more like it. Keep answering questions like this and we might just set you free.”

A false hope sparked in the alpha’s eyes.

 Fool. As if I’d ever let you live after you orchestrated the attack on Tadashi, after your men beat down Ennoshita. Fuck you.

“Next question, who ordered the shipment of scent weapons?”

“The E…Eagles.”

Oh. Hinata arched his eyebrow, “Aren’t you going to elaborate? I said tell me everything. And I mean everything.”

The omega punctuated the sentences with light stabs of the knife down the alpha’s legs – because he’d stood up again after the last ripping, and slowly trailed the metal back down to his foot. The shivers that rocked the alpha’s body was learned fear and Hinata revelled in the fact that the large genetically superior man was shaking in his boots – well, maybe not his boots per say, “No.. I told yo the truth. No! NO! PLEASE!”

Blood spurted from the place where the nail used to be as Hinata flicked off another one with now practiced ease. And another scream tore itself from the depths of the man.

“Everything.” Hinata reiterated, now glaring at the man. The light playful persona was gone, and it disappeared to be replaced by a fury the man did not want to face. If anything, the reason why Hinata was assigned to interrogations was the fact that he was not predictable, that his mood changed any second and his methods did as well. Tadashi had called it the fear factor, that the apprehension of the pain in the victim was what caused them to spill everything.

“I…”

“Why do The Eagles need scent weapons? ANSWER ME ALPHA.” Spit flew from Hinata’s mouth as he yelled, eyes seeping from light brown sugar to dark honey – molten lava. A mini sun indeed – one that threatened to swallow all the planets that surrounded it.

“I don’t know.” The alpha choked out after a slight moment of hesitation – then didn’t see but felt the blade of the knife, not under his nails pressing into the soft flesh but on the joint of his toe to his foot. He was quick to elaborate, “But Hiroshi said that omegas were easier to control after being overwhelmed by alphan scent and –“

Hinata growled and the man swallowed nervously.

“– and, uh, I… it’s easier to take them off the streets if no one can smell their distress –“

He felt the blade press down, felt the sting as blood went from the thin capillaries to stagnant air. Gulped, licked his lips – coated in blood and tears – and hastened to continue. Even though he didn’t want to give up this information, he had been trained to handle interrogations, both of them could tell he was stalling for time. And the alpha wasn’t about to say no to someone who was pressing a knife into his foot.

“– He also said that the Eagles want the majority of weapons cause.., well the Prince is coming in a month and –“

Hinata felt something close to dread overcome him but he schooled his features. This was bad. Subconsciously, he pressed the knife harder.

“– because you know the Duke is corrupt and is buying omegas off Hiroshi and experimenting on them to increase omegan births so Hiroshi can immediately buy them off the Duke –“

The man was now spilling all the secrets of the gang, the view of the orange-haired Raven in front of him drifting in and out of focus. His words slurred together – but Hinata was committing the words both to memory and to the little recording device in the pockets of his loose working slacks. This information was perfect.

“ – And the Prince is an omega so scent weapons and after the last one went missing, there’s been more surveillance but one the Eagle’s connections is paying big money –“

“That’s a good answer.” Hinata didn’t lift the knife, glaring at the other man, “Now tell me, is it really one of the Eagles connections, or is it the head himself?”

The alpha gulped, “I don’t –“

But before he could gasp out an answer, Hinata pressed his knife down with full force and swiftly removed the alpha’s right big toe. Blood spurted from the wound, and it arced beautifully. Hinata picked up the appendage and held it in front of the alpha’s face, mimicking what he’d done with the alpha’s left ear – and then promptly stepped back to avoid the vomit that splashed onto the floor and the bile that trickled down the alpha’s chin.

“Should’ve chosen your words a bit better shouldn’t have you?” Hinata cooed gently then laughed. He stood, dropping the now cooling toed onto the alpha’s bleeding foot – watched as the man paled again, and turned to face the door.

“WAIT!” The alpha cried out, voice cracking, “You… you said you’d let me go.”

“After your last answer?” Hinata scoffed, opening the door and nearly blinding himself on the light outside, “Oh please, you’re not leaving that room alive."

The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off the first of the sobs that would continue until the alpha’s body gave out on him, until he fell unconscious due to blood loss. Hinata would be back later, possibly with another Corvid to extract more information. For now, he had to log the information and start updating their notes – the part he hated most about the procedure.

But, they’d gotten information. That was the upside of it. Even if it made his blood curdle and his stomach clench – at least they were now more knowledgeable than before.

• ••

Tsukkishima read over the files again, unable to believe his eyes. He knew he wanted to know what was going on, but now he wasn’t so sure. After his old classmate had shown up (albeit, he’d barely interacted with the man, only on some stupid group project), after the files had been revealed in the mess of code that man had shifted through, after he had pieced together every letter to form a word, every word to form a sentence, each sentence that was printed in stark black letters on white paper – he didn’t know what to believe. He didn’t want to know anymore.

Name: « Tadashi Yamaguchi »

Gender: « M »

Secondary Gender: « O »

Status: « Wanted, Unknown location »

Criminal Offences: « First-degree murder, police assault, illegal storage of weapons, manslaughter, arson »

« DO NOT ENGAGE »

There were three pages to Tadashi’s file. And they were all stuck on the first page. They now all knew, that the man was a sniper – by definition a murderer, but this file was old – five years old. The omega had still looked youthful, young, barely broken into adulthood. What had happened? Daichi’s hand hesitated as he held the first sheet of the file between two fingers – did he really want to turn it over and learn of this young man’s past in such a way?

They had to know what sort of people they were dealing with.

They had to.

Tsukki flicked the page over. His heart stopped. Daichi turned the page with apprehension gurgling in his veins. His body was doused with cold. Kageyama was the only one who stood after his eyes had skimmed the paragraphs of information, the only one who grabbed the whiteboard marker and wrote in large scrawled letters above the name Magpie (Tadashi) –

Murdered his parents.

And suddenly the man’s position as a sniper wasn’t the largest of surprises.

Chapter Text

The sky was doused in grey masses of clouds, as it should’ve been. Kenma thumbed his phone lightly as he tossed it in his hands, for once not able to concentrate on the game currently opened beyond his lock screen. The trees blurred slightly as they sped towards the site. The site where they would be remembering a fallen omega taken far too soon. In many more ways than one. Kenma frowned at the thought, and at a passing building.

He felt Kuroo squeeze his hand gently, feeling the alpha’s pheromones, stressed and slightly heightened, mellow slightly in a poor imitation of comfort. The omega appreciated the gesture nonetheless, glancing at his companion, knowing that while the alpha appeared to be doing it for the omega’s concern – his white grip on Kenma’s hand steadied the alpha’s own tremors more than anything else.

Kuroo hadn’t stopped blaming himself. Today was the only day that the alpha would let it show on his face – his miserableness at the one tragedy that continued to haunt him. Kenma squeezed back, offering his own support.

And they rode the rest of the way in silence, looking out their respective windows, yet comforted by each other’s presence, knowing the shoulders they both used to cry on were right beside each other.

When the car rolled to a stop, Kuroo was the first to get out, opening the door for Kenma. Both of their eyes were stubbornly bare of tears, but the distressed scent that surrounded Kuroo indicated that the man was quite on edge, ready to fall to his emotions at any second. When the omega took of his seatbelt and edged his way to a standing position, he didn’t let go of Kuroo’s proffered arm. The omega understood more than anything the need for touch when one was vulnerable, and held on for dear life. Kenma himself didn’t need it, he knew he didn’t, because Shoyou was alive, but he acted like he did – if anything, to save face for the alpha, whose face was tilted to the ground in respect as they stepped onto holy ground.

A shrine had been built for the dead omega. A small raised platform to the left side had been covered in various bouquets of flowers, each in different variations of delicate white jasmine and hardy bursts of yellow sunflower, a reminder of the House’s previous tenacity and influence on society. The shrine itself was a circular arch, as opposed to the other shrines built around the family names in the graveyard, those all rectangular with intricate red roofs, slated and shingled with tiles hand-crafted hundreds of years ago. This one was carved from white stone something, chimes hanging from little indents, clipped into place by hands long gone. The chimes were well cared for – by whom no one knew, polished and buffed, and no one dared ask. As the wind blew, the chimes sung a calming song and people hung their heads in respect.

Kuroo and Kenma approached the shrine with reverence, careful to keep their feet on the flat white stepping stones leading to it, careful not to touch the water that surrounded white stone arch and carefully clipped grass – out of respect for the ashes they’d scattered there, and the life the never-stilling water represented.

The people on the other side of the water – the side connected to the outside world, dressed in fancy black mourning clothes, some of whom neither of them recognised, stopped in their conversations to turn and stare across the water at the two. The duo were well known, their connections to the deceased well known, well covered in the press – every year, in tomorrow’s papers. After all, only a few dared to cross the white stones set in the water, because of familiarity and the weight of the meaning behind the white. But the two ignored the stares, Kenma tipping his head back to look at the sky, grey and rolling, massing clouds looking like the feeling the flipped his stomach in practised discomfort. Kuroo’s eyes were fixed on a spot beneath the arch, yet somewhere far away.

“May the Gods bless you.” Kuroo murmured, sinking to his knees in front of the shrine. Someone, possibly someone new to this ritual, gasped. Kenma frowned, but held back a ‘tsk’ – this part of the tradition was sacred to Kuroo, he had every right to mourn, if only nosy suck-ups to the nobles stopped creeping around observing their every action. Surely the Head of House Kuroo had the right to fucking mourn in peace, “And you find comfort in their embrace. May your wounds be healed, your tears dried, and your memory live on forever.”

“Your memory is mine.” Kenma’s quiet voice echoed.

“Your pain is mine.” Kuroo stood, reaching for Kenma’s hand. The omega took it without hesitation. A tear slipped from the alpha’s eye. A camera shutter clicked.

“We’ll take your burdens so that you may find peace where you rest.” They said together, low tones and heads bowed. The wind rustled the leaves, and the chimes’ melancholic melody echoed through the glade. Kuroo turned to Kenma and embraced him, for once letting his body sag onto the omega’s small stature, Kenma’s arm quickly wrapping around the alpha protectively. The larger drew away only to smile sadly at the omega, and turn back to the shrine, a small dark wooden frame encapsulating a smiling boy – barely 18. It was one of the last photo’s they’d had when he’d passed. The orange of Shoyou’s hair only slightly darker in the shade of the arch – dimmed only in the years that had passed in the keeping of it. Smile brighter than when the day had dawned.

Kenma frowned at it softly, hating the way he was mourning someone he had spoken to the other day – hating the way he felt even at imagining his best friend dead. Kuroo tipped his head forward again, shoulders shaking only the slightest amount. The omega placed a hand on his back and felt tears of his own well up at the emotion. Even if he knew they were unneeded, knew his friend was still alive and kicking Kuroo didn’t. Kenma hated himself for having to keep it secret, “C’mon Kuroo. We –“

“Yeah.” The well-dressed, with silver cufflinks and expensive suit that hugged all the right places pressed his hands to his face, then ran them through once-kept hair, now unkempt at the repeated action. Perpetual state of disarray, much like the storm of emotions that trembled through his body, “I know.”

And they turned back around, heads kept tilted down as they avoided even so much as getting a droplet of water on their feet, each step perfectly placed in the middle of a white stepping stone. Kuroo and Kenma had designed the shrine themselves, no family left to mourn the dead. In those few moments, all was calm, all was quiet – the water a tickling breath to accompany the eyes of the other attendees upon them

And when their feet the grey stone path, everything erupted into chatter again, as the other Nobility and Government Officials who had had the privilege of associating themselves with the Noble House Hinata tore their eyes from the two that had been the closest and assumed their menial conversations.

Kuroo sighed, “You’d think they’d have more goddamn respect.”

Kenma nodded, eyes searching the crowds, then shook his head, “You’d think they have the audacity to show up.”

“Did I hear my name Kenma-san?”

Kenma’s head whipped around, hand instinctively going to clutch at Kuroo’s sleeve. A hiss built in the back of his throat, but the omega supressed it – that could wait until they were out of sight from reporters and journalists. Kuroo smiled thinly at the alpha that had approached without a sound, a growl growing in the back of his own throat at the smell of Kenma’s distress. Though he calmed when he took in who it was.

The Lord of House Nohebi.

“Lord Daishou.” The alpha inclined his head respectively, tipping his lips up into an imitation of his normal smirk, “Came without your entourage?”

“Lord Kuroo, came with yours I see.”

Kenma narrowed his eyes at the man, mimicking the alpha’s naturally pinched thin eyes, cold and calculating. The omega couldn’t help but feel incredibly uncomfortable under his gaze, feeling as if he was constantly being seized up – like a delectable treat. He shivered slightly and the alpha smirked, eyes trained upon him. Up and down. Trailing.

And then his gaze flicked back to Kuroo, and Kenma felt the cold water that had settled on the back of his neck vanish. Daishou smiled wanly, “How have you been Kuroo? Holding up okay?”

Kuroo nodded, looking off toward the shrine, standing out like a breath of fresh white air amongst the red roofs – much like the family had been, before they themselves had been stained red with their own blood, “Days like today are always hard. But they come and they go, and in time we’ll move on, just like we urge them to.”

“Your memory is mine.” They all whispered, their voices lingering together in the air as the breeze chased the melody of the chimes.

Daishou had a faraway look in his eyes, when Kuroo slid a sly eye over to him, “I’m honestly surprised you still show up to these, outside of noble obligation. Weren’t you two only a few months married?”

The other alpha stiffened and Kenma watched his reaction with care. Over the years Shoyou hadn’t told him many things about what happened in his youth – despite the fact that he had been there for nearly all of it, but the one thing that voice over his headset and cameras had told him was to stay away from Daishou, Rook, he’s a fucking dangerous gutter snake wrapped up in noble’s clothes. Stay far, far away. Kenma could only barely see the snake skin through the man’s elaborate mask, and was constantly in awe of the alpha’s ability to still be treated with anything other than caution.

Daishou nodded once, a small smile slipping onto his face, but he didn’t meet Kuroo nor Kenma’s gaze. Just concentrated on the photo across the water, perched on the shrine, surrounded by bouquets of offered grievances, “It was arranged.”

Everyone knew that. Even Kuroo, who had asked the question more to get a rise and to distract himself from his sorrows.

“So, we saw each other often. Love at first sight if you believe in that. He’s the reason why I haven’t remarried, you know.” The alpha’s small smile didn’t slip, eyes caught up in distant memories. Kuroo nodded, eyes also glazing over slightly, as he too got caught up in memories of his youth. Kenma hissed slightly to get Kuroo’s attention but caught both of theirs.

“Good morning Kenma-san.” Daishou addressed him for the first time.

Kenma merely dropped his gaze and nodded, as he’d been taught by his father, then flashed it back up to meet Daishou’s gaze to show him, tell him, spit in his face and yell that he would not be intimidated. In a social game where strict rules were in place, Kenma didn’t always have the finessed etiquette to always win – but he had Kuroo by his side. And in these sorts of social standings, well, there was a reason why Kuroo was labelled as one of the most outstanding Heads of his family, one of the most well-respected people in the entire country falling short only of the Monarch’s themselves.

Daishou tilted his head in inquiry, but Kuroo subtly stepped slightly in front of the omega and addressed the alpha once more, pulling his attention away, “I thought the Duke would make an appearance here. You haven’t seen him in a while have you?”

Pulling and tying the strings together. Killing flocks of birds with a single blade of grass. It was in Kuroo’s sharp eye, sharp tongue and sharp wit that Kenma found himself enjoying the safety of the blade. The omega stepped back and pulled out his phone, knowing that Daishou would be swept up in Kuroo’s guidance of the conversation, and thus he would be safe from one set of prying eyes. And Kuroo, given Lord Haiba’s insistence with the case, would keep milking the alpha for as much information as possible.

There was only a slight crackling of static as he dialled, only one ring of the ringtone before a voice sighed, “Hello, Corvid’s Boxing Gym, how can I help you?”

“It’s Kenma.”

“That doesn’t sound like a –“ The voice, which the omega recognised as Oikawa started to chide.

“I can’t talk long,” Kenma was quick to interrupt, “I’m out and around.”

I ’m outside and around other people who don ’t know about this. Alphas. Possibly dangerous.

“Information?” Oikawa snapped into gear. He understood the subtleties in Kenma’s words, or at least the insistent tone behind them. Kenma could very faintly hear the uncapping of a pen lid, though it may have been static as the omega on the other end of the line rustled whatever probable stacks of documents he was holding. Oikawa sounded like a dispatcher dealing with domestic abuse situations – asking questions and answering them so as to not arouse suspicion from those around Kenma.

“Yes. It’s urgent.”

Kenma kept his gaze fixed on Kuroo and Daishou, watching them carefully. As he did, he stepped back further, out of earshot, eyes trained on their backs. Kuroo sent him a quick glance over his shoulder to which the omega responded with a small eyebrow raise and mouthed ‘car’. The alpha nodded slightly and his lips twitched in a near-genuine smile.

“We’re compromised.”

Oikawa gasped, then grit his teeth. In the warehouse, sitting at his desk, his grip tightened around the phone, tightened around the pen poised to take notes. Regained his composure, “How so? Cops, gangs, or –“

“The former.”

“Shit.”

Kenma huffed a dry laugh, “I know. It’s shitty.”

“How did it happen? Are you in a place where you can explain it to me?”

“I’m about to get in the car, so yes,” Kenma dropped his voice to whisper as he nodded to the driver turned bodyguard beside the car, the beta man leaning over and opening the door in one smooth movement, “Can you put the Boss on?”

“You’re in luck. He just entered.” The phone was held away from Oikawa’s mouth as the man yelled the next bit to the echo-y warehouse, heard in shrill tones by Kenma as he waited patiently, getting himself comfortable in the back of the car. The door closed behind him and he locked it quietly. It would give a few seconds of warning if Kuroo did decide to sneak up on him.

“Hello? Is this Rook I’m speaking to?”

• ••

Suga clutched the phone to his ear. He’d come back from the tattooist’s a few hours ago, seeing out a perplexed Officer Tsukishima and furrowed-browed Captain, and nodding to a pissed-off looking Ennoshita. He didn’t want to be there when the omega found his two brothers and have to bear witness to the ensuing domestic. He’d made that mistake once. Never again.

“Hello?” He repeated, trying to calm his voice. Oikawa stood swiftly from his seat and pulled out Suga’s seat of the desk, in which the omega sunk. Their eyes latched and Oikawa inclined his head, then seemingly finding his answer written on Suga’s face, sat back down at his own desk – opening up his computer and pulling another phone from his pocket.

“Ah Boss, we have a problem.”

“Is that why you’re calling me instead of using the ear pieces you dropped off at the storage locker specifically for contact?” Suga added a hint of mirth to his voice, trying to offput the anxiety in Kenma’s.

“Yes.” The other crackled across the phone, not rising to the bait, as deadpan as always, “I don’t know how much time we have so I’ll say it straight.”

“Go ahead.” Now tentative. Suga tapped his fingers on the desk, then thinking better of it, grabbed a pen and flipped over a document to use as a notepad.

Beside the omega, Oikawa had typed something into his phone, and was now frowning at the screen. Sighing slightly, he turned the phone to Suga – flashing him the screen. Twelve digits and the familiar dialling sound – his Boss nodded at him to continue it. Oikawa started his own phone call as Suga shifted his attention back to his.

“We’re compromised. The cops have information on us.”

Suga couldn’t help the panic seep into his voice now, “All of us?”

“No, no! Gods no, Boss, I didn’t mean that. Shit, don’t worry I didn’t give them anything on you, or the Ravens.”

“Wait, you – Kenma what happened?” Suga’s pen leaked ink into the page as he stared into the middle distance, feeling the struggle of panic and the suspense of his cravings for knowledge twist his stomach into knots.

Across the room Oikawa sighed into his phone and gave him a worried look, saying to his own caller, “Takeda, it’s Raven. Are you free to talk now? Yes, it’s about the shipping forecast. We’ll take your next free spaces.”

“Well –“ Kenma’s voice rung out over tiny speakers, Suga having put the man on speakerphone to quietly freak out with both hands free. The smaller omega really knew how to talk slowly, and Suga was never one for patience when it came to protecting his family, “My services got requested for the Detective Unit – who, gods Boss you need to dig up some dirt on them, or at least throw them a bone that leads them in the wrong direction. They’re not idiots.”

“I’m dealing with them Kenma.”

“Okay, I’m just warning you that they’re starting to look into you guys, so keep your guard up.”

“Can you get to the point please,” Suga smothered the bite in his voice with the insistent ‘please’, “I want to know what information you gave them and how I can stop them from doing anything with it.”

“Sorry, yes.” He apologised quickly, “As I was saying, my services got requested so I had to go down there and retrieve the files I had buried. I didn’t at first, but Kuroo saw through me. I gave them social files on Ennoshita and Tadashi.”

“Shit. You –“

“I couldn’t do anything! I would’ve exposed my position.”

Suga pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring the disapproving look Oikawa sent him. Whatever he was about to say to the man would have been uncalled for, “Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“And I’m not.”

“I –“

“No, that was uncalled for on my part Boss. I can tell them myself if you’re worried about that.”

“No, it’s okay Rook, you’re pressed for time as it is, I can do it within the next half hour. Do you have the time to tell me what information you exposed?”

The omega tried to get a rein on his emotions again, wanting to snap at Oikawa for the almost proud look he was sending his way. Hypocrite. As if Oikawa wasn’t his own brand of childish and petty when he felt hard-done by. Suga settled for flipping his brother off, which somewhat ironically helped him calm down a little more.

Maybe this would blow over if the information that Kenma exposed wasn’t that bad, petty crime would easily be blown off as something a gang would do, and while Ennoshita still had stable connections to the outside world, something Tadashi greatly lacked – they weren’t easily pushed around by police, certainly not those that wanted to hurt their baby brother.

“Tadashi’s run in with the police after the incident.”

Maybe not then.

“Listing of the incident?”

“It was in the police report, I didn’t have the time nor privacy to isolate the information, split it and only show a singular part. I can’t do all that through the code, I need the visuals. They know about his parents.”

“Fuck.” And Suga was planning to keep Tadashi relatively innocent in the officer’s eyes, to keep their focus on him and him only, while diluting it everywhere else, “Fuck. Fuck. What about Ennoshita – do they know about that?”

“Yeah, undoubtedly. It was all on there.” Kenma sighed, sounding resigned. Suga could imagine him sitting slumped somewhere, eyes surveying the area, expression closed off and reserved.

“How much detail?” Another insistent question. He wanted to know everything. Only then could he combat this fucking shit show of a disaster.

“Not much, but it talked about the –“ Kenma was cut off suddenly, the phone beeping. Two seconds later Suga’s phone vibrated and lit up with a small text from an Unknown ID.

[3:35pm]

Unknown: Sorry, can ’t talk. ISSC

Suga nodded to the phone, then realised Kenma could see him and the phone didn’t have eyes and tried to cover his actions by slumping forward onto the desk. He knew Kenma was safe, ISSC merely meaning, ‘interrupted, safe space compromised’. No one except for the other Corvids would understand the message – as intended. Hinata had been right when he said they needed a code that other alphas, even other omegas couldn’t understand.

It took a minute for him to right himself, to pull himself together and sit back up. Beside him Oikawa swung on his chair, finger flicking between his fingers, nodding, “Uh-huh, I think the sooner the better Takeda honestly. These pups want to get somewhere new as soon as possible. When’s your soonest?”

The omega wrote something on the paper, and Suga leaned over to see, Wednesday. That was two days away. Oikawa leaned back over the paper and Suga pulled back then leaned forward again to see, 4:00 – 7:00 pm ldng [loading], printed in stark black letters.

“We’ll call the shelter over there to let them know a new shipment is coming. Thank you. Yes. I’ll tell Suga you said hi – Suga, Takeda said hi –“ The man didn’t even shift the phone away from his ear, and the omega to which the comment was directed couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement. Trust Oikawa to calm him down, “Of course. Uh-huh. Bye-bye.”

The phone line beeped and the call ended. And as the call ended the doors burst open.

Hinata stumbled in, blood lining his shoes and caking his fingertips, a wide look in his eyes. Suga didn’t see that however, wrapped up in the problem of spilt information. The same, thought different to the orange-haired omega.

“We have a problem.” The words tumbled from their mouths in unison, and for a moment everything stood still.

• ••

“What do we do Captain?”

It had been two days since their last contact with the Corvids, and they still hadn’t heard anything. Tsukki had been forced back to the hospital for another check-up before being officially discharged and everyone had gotten enough sleep – Iwaizumi had seen to that. Daichi had an annoying habit of getting revelations in the middle of the night and sneaking out, and there was no greater joy to Iwaizumi than shoving a chair under the handle of the door and listening to a grown man walk straight into solid oak in the middle of the night.

It was simply one of the perks of living in a bachelor house with the entire detective unit, the alpha had noted from their communal living room at 2:00am Wednesday morning – causing chaos at all times of the day. Iwaizumi, though with a smart head on steady shoulders, wasn’t above being a cunning bitch to his friends.

When Thursday dawned bright and early, they nearly fell back into their routines, they nearly settled back on their laurels. Daichi nearly let his guard down.

He was in his ground floor room, rubbing his extremely sore head, when he heard it. Their new door-bell. Sleep left him abruptly.

“Iwaizumi! Let me out! I need to get the door.” He yelled, tested the handle of his door again, only to find that if refused to move, “Damnit.”

“I’ll get it Captain.”

That was Tanaka, and the head alpha growled his appreciation. When he felt the resistance give, he pushed the door open and stumbled over his feet to halt the shrill chimes of the doorbell, travelling through the corridor at an alarming rate. Beyond the decorative frosted glass panes that travelled a half length of the door a shadow moved. Two shadows. When the chimes faded, the bell was only rung again. And as the alpha moved closer to it, he managed to regain some composure only to realise that his way was blocked by another – Kageyama was stood staring at the door.

“Why don’t you answer it?” Daichi hissed, stalking up to his subordinate, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he made to walk past. There was a beat of silence, and as Daichi passed him, Kageyama remained still eyes fixed on the door. The alpha’s nose was twitching, and then he shook his head.

“I could’ve sworn…” Kageyama muttered, then seemingly for the first time realised that his Boss was standing in front of him, “Ah. Um, Captain – I just uh. I thought I caught a scent, the scent of the small raven. But it just vanished. Sorry. It’s… puzzling.”

Daichi opened his mouth to reply, but the door bell was rung again and cut off whatever he was about to say. With the noise as a buzzing insistence in his ear, the alpha turned away from the other confusing and confused man and approached the door. Standing right before it now, hand on cold metal, watching the shadows shift, heads blob he too could catch a faint smell – drifting. It wasn’t like his other run-ins with the small omega where the scent had permeated every crevice of the room, had clogged the nostrils in acrid hostility. It was faint, almost tentative, as if something was forcibly repressing it – as a wandering hand would a small cut from properly healing. He tried to shake off the unease it brought him, instincts telling him that something was wrong.

So, he opened the door.

The Ravens stood there, the shorter one in front, grinning slightly, the taller in the back looking on edge and somewhat unkempt. Odd. The omega’s noticeably quaffed hair seemed a bit deflated, the brunette seemingly having a hard time to keep himself from scowling. His nose was twitching and Daichi put two and two together – it was probably most definitely the scent of alphas living in bachelor’s house. Oikawa was avoiding his gaze.

“How can I –“ He started to say.

“We have some information for you.” Hinata said coolly, smiling widening slightly. Daichi’s gaze dropped and he saw the thumb drive clenched in the omegas proffered hand, “We could tell you ourselves, but for authenticities sake I have it from the source himself. Unfortunately, I can’t give you this to keep. So, we’re gonna have to be there when you listen. You understand. Bribing and bitching and the like.”

Daichi blinked. An omega actually wanted to enter the house? Oikawa seemed to think the same, his face shifting into one of disbelief as he scoffed, “Raven are you sure? Crow’s going to fuck us both up if we’re late.”

Maybe not the same.

“Besides, are you fucking insane to go into a house full of alphas.”

Hinata rolled his eyes, smile dropping in an instant. The atmosphere shifted dangerously as the smaller turned to his taller companion, “Bite me.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened a fraction and he laughed dryly, before a scowl twisted his face, “Don’t fucking go there.” He snarled, mouth twisting up to reveal small but sharp canines.

“You went there first.”

“Fuck you. I’m going back, and you can explain to Crow why you’re late for loading.” Oikawa turned on his heel and stomped down the steps, flipping Hinata off as he went. Hinata sighed, seemingly content in watching him as the omega wrenched open the door, slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the door and hit the accelerator with everything he had – most likely anger. The remaining omega hung his head, sighed again then lifted it, to catch the Captain perplexed expression and see another alpha materialise behind him. The dark-haired one. The one with the blue eyes and the attitude, who – if Hinata recalled correctly – wasn’t half bad at fighting, technically sound.

“Sorry ‘bout that Captain.” His smile was quick to appear again, “Now are you going to invite me in?”

“I.. uh. Are you sure the scent won’t bother –“ As awkward the question and topic was, Daichi had to ask. It was quite rude to inquire about scents and talking about omegan weakness in broad daylight (the underground had no such qualms) was a big taboo. Everyone knew, it just wasn’t spoken about.

Hinata waved lightly, “Oh don’t worry. I can’t smell a thing.”

Which only confused the alphas even more as Daichi ushered in the small orange-haired man. Kageyama found himself frowning at the comment. Omega were supposed to have the most sensitive noses, second to none. It was a well-researched topic, a few omegas having said to even detect changes in a Beta’s neutral scent, and predict mood swings before they happened. Alpha’s noses were also sensitive, but tended to sharpen when ‘hunting’ or when bonded, honing in on their mate’s scent. No omega could lie to their alpha because of this trait, even if they wanted to. Kageyama’s lip curled downwards into a scowl, as he watched the Raven’s facial expression closely.

Hinata’s nose twitched slightly upon entry, but his face remained in a passive half-smile, eyes looking around the place. Observing, noted Kageyama. Daichi took the lead and began to guide them through the bachelor house to the shared living room – where Kageyama knew Iwaizumi and a few others had laptops set up ready to use at any time, as well as a private land line for urgent work calls. Both cops were curious to see what the thumb drive contained, and Kageyama briefly wondered if he should excuse himself to gather and inform the others. Though, the idea was quickly negated by the fact that leaving, would mean leaving and taking his eyes off this oddly charismatic omega.

“So, what happened there?” Daichi tried to make light conversation with the omega following him. Kageyama startled slightly from his thoughts, and Hinata caught it – exhaling sharply through his nose in a huffed laughed. The alpha couldn’t place its direction – at his startle or Daichi’s question? Kageyama glared at the man, and Hinata raised his eyebrows in silent question back. They both acknowledged each other’s presence without actually saying anything – engaged in a silent tug of war.

“Oh, nothing big really,” Hinata broke Kageyama’s gaze to direct his comment at the broad alpha’s back. Daichi glanced behind him, “Raven always gets like this before his heat.”

Both alphas face went red in record time. Rose tinge creeped across Kageyama’s cheeks and something in a slightly sadistic corner of Hinata’s brain wanted to see the alpha uncomfortable more often. Dark shades of red mauve painted the tips of Daichi’s ears and his head whipped back around to the front to hide the rest of his smarting face. Kageyama didn’t have much luck hiding with Hinata grinning and giving his profile the side eye.

Heats were also a no-go zone in conversation, an uncomfortable topic that Hinata was very used to talking about in his family – one that he exploited everywhere else when given the chance. With judiciousness of course, he wasn’t going to spill the times when they’d be the most vulnerable to any random off the streets.

He grinned at Kageyama’s messy blush that gathered on his cheeks and spread tendrils across the sides of his face. The alpha was getting more and more uncomfortable with the gaze.

“How – how do you know where we live anyway?” He blurted out, trying desperately to change the subject. Daichi’s steps faltered in curiosity, but then continued when Hinata turned his head around to face the front again. They were nearly upon the opening to the living room.

“Do I have to explain everything?” As quick as ever to change the mood, Hinata’s tone shifted to one of exasperation, “Besides aren’t you being a bit hypocritical? Asking me to explain everything and keep things above the table – when you’re clearly being underhanded.”

For a gangster he was rather eloquent. And his words, were clearly cut from a political cloth, meaning framed in such a way that Daichi had to be very careful in how he answered. The answers to this were a minefield, and the man couldn’t help but think how similar to his Boss he sounded. Did they come from similar backgrounds? Surely not, with the orange-haired Raven’s practically erratic behaviour, “What do you mean by that? Are you implying that I cannot do my job?”

Two could play at that slippery slope of a game. Daggers coated in silken mirth and pleasantries to hide their pointed ends.

“Oh no,” Hinata responded quickly, laughing slightly as they stopped in front of a small table in the living room, a coffee table that looked to be serving as someone’s desk. Kageyama backed away from the two slowly, stomach churning slightly – the conversation starting to sound more like the dinner parties he was forced to attend up north with his sister. The ones where rival nobles pretended to be allies, pretended to be jovial. It sickened him, the falsity of it all. He decided to make an exit and gather the rest of the unit – no doubt they were also as hungry for information as he was. And all of it rested in the thumb drive clenched tight in the omega’s fist. The omega whose eyes now glinted dangerously in the artificial light spewing from the adjoining kitchen, “I’m not saying that at all Captain. All I’m saying is that unlike you, we don’t feel the need to go digging for your information behind your backs.”

That was a lie, but no muscular tick, nor change in heart rate gave it away.

“I have nothing against a bit of dishonesty Captain, I’ll tell you that. But the Boss,” Hinata pinned Daichi with a stare and the man nearly felt a need to curl up. Not from the stare, but in apprehension of what he was going to say next. The alpha didn’t want to be told that he’d somehow displeased the devilish angel of the Corvid’s leader, “The Boss hates it. He hates those that go back on their word. So be glad you providing a benefit for us, because if you weren’t already in his favour – I wouldn’t be standing here with a fucking thumb drive.”

Somehow the omega, shorter in stature, and lesser in societal status, seemed to loom over the alpha. Suddenly the alpha had an inkling of how the omega’s may have felt at the trafficking stations they had raided numerous times – only to find dead bodies or empty cages. For the first time in two days – since he’d seen Crow he felt threatened. But he refused himself to be pushed over by the shorter Raven, “I will not lie and say we didn’t try to investigate – but if you weren’t digging in to us, how would you even know?”

“Connections dear Captain.” Hinata bit back immediately – instinctively.

“Then I would say the same. We want to verify that the information we’re getting is reliable, and that means checking the people we get it from are reliable.” Daichi smiled slightly, feeling as if he’d won. And he had, for the most part. Because Hinata stopped – looked as if he didn’t have anything to say and then gestured to the computer.

“Are we –“

“Captain I’ve brought the rest of the unit.” Kageyama entered the room, followed by Iwaizumi, then Tanaka, then Asahi, then Kyoutani, then a hobbling Tsukkishima who did not look pleased at the fact that he’d been barged in on whilst having a shower – hair still wet, clothes haphazardly hanging from gaunt limbs. It was the only time he’d even be caught in clothing that wasn’t a well-ironed suit or his work clothes. Even his casual clothes were usually without creases, so it was only natural for him to glare down at the omega responsible for causing him to have to appear like this. The other alphas seemed at bit more shocked at Hinata’s appearance in their living room.

“Don’t,” Daichi said, lifting a hand to stop the beginning of Tanaka’s outburst, “Don’t worry, he’s not affected by the scents – he can’t smell.”

Hinata shot them a grin then gestured again to the computer sitting open on the coffee table, “Well, are we?”

Iwaizumi rushed to unlock his laptop, and minimised all the windows that could have got him in trouble by the omega – because they had heard the end bit of the Captain’s conversation, whether the pack leader wanted them to or not – namely, the still open files of his family. By the soft growl that he heard from above, he knew he wasn’t fast enough, but Hinata surprisingly didn’t say anything, just offered the matte black thumb drive to him.

As the alpha slotted it into the USB port on his computer, he wondered if everything the omega’s owned was black, or if, like the police uniform, the colours just hid distasteful fluids better. Iwaizumi didn’t want to ask.

Click. Click. Click.

Once to check his computer was actually working and not frozen. Twice to open up the disc folder that popped up on his desktop. Thrice to open the file on it, merely labelled;

Extracting #1 (3:00pm)

The date shone in small block letters beside it in grey font, the legitimate timestamp of the video – two days ago.

Iwaizumi’s cursor spun for a moment and then the video opened to a black screen.

“Sorry boys, no videos allowed, so this will just be audio.” Hinata had the grace to mention this to the alphas just after they had started to lean over to see the screen, and their scents of quiet annoyance spread throughout the room. Daichi who hadn’t been an idiot to try and watch an audio recording (he didn’t think the Corvid’s would want to give away their interrogation methods, which were certainly going to be unconventional, even just given the fact they were an all-omega gang), frowned in their direction, quietly shaking his head ‘no’. Tanaka and Kyoutani’s eyes widened slightly as they realised that fuck there was an omega here and shit, sorry this is like the only place where we don’t have to monitor out scents shit, but the omega’s face didn’t even twitch, head cocked as he listened to the static of the audio.

“Here it comes,” He nodded, listening the static grow louder and turn into rustling sounds instead.

 The track started abruptly with Hinata’s own voice, “Are you a part of the omega trafficking crime syndicate?”

“Y-yes, plea-please don ’t hurt me. ”

The track stopped and static returned, the clips obviously cut and smashed together. Daichi frowned, and Kageyama gaze turned from the back of the computer to assess the Raven’s face. It was impassive – though every now and then the corners of his mouth would twitch down. Interesting, the alpha couldn’t help but think, it was the first half-normal look he’d seen from the omega, one where the situation lined up exactly with his expression. Iwaizumi rested his chin in his hands, glaring at the audio track – they still had a while left.

“Next question, who order the shipment of scent weapons?” Again, it was Hinata’s voice, tone colder than any of them recognised, but distinctly his nonetheless. Kageyama wasn’t quite sure how to describe it, or how to describe the feelings that coursed through his body as a biproduct of the low rumbling warning that it posed.

“The Eagles.” The man’s terrified voice cried, and Tsukkishima turned his head towards Asahi, the only one with the foresight to bring something to write with – “Take notes.” He hissed.

The track stopped again, static replacing it, and then the hostages voice echoed through the room once more, “I don’t know.”

Pause.

“But Hiroshi said that omegas were easier to control after being overwhelmed by alphan scent and –“

There was an audible gulp and Hinata’s growl of warning. Standing in the room now, the orange-haired omega smirked slightly and Kageyama felt inclined to go back upon his previous claim – nothing the omega did was normal. Fucking nothing. Maybe it was why the elusive little sun was so intriguing.

“– and, uh, I … it ’s easier to take them off the streets if no one can smell their distress –“

“If I didn’t have a fucking shot hand I’d take the notes Asahi – stop writing so slowly.” Tsukki’s hiss was barely heard over the sob that tore it’s way to static in the computers speakers. Kyoutani chuckled slightly at the alpha’s jab towards his colleague, and Daichi sent them a glare. Hinata’s face twisted back into a scowl again.

“He also said that the Eagles want the majority of weapons cause, well the Prince is coming in a month and because you know the Duke is corrupt and is buying omegas off Hiroshi and experimenting on them to increase omegan births so Hiroshi can immediately buy them off the Duke and the Prince is an omega so scent weapons and after the last one went missing, there ’s been more surveillance but one of the Eagle ’s connections is paying big money –“

The track ended, but not one paid any heed. All of the cops were locked into a staring contest, Daichi staring down at wide eyes at his Vice Captain, Iwaizumi’s hands coming up to cover his mouth as he stared back. This was it. This was the break they’d been waiting for.

They had information. The Eagles – they were a gang tracking low on their radar for a while now but soaring above the rest in terms of legitimacy, were implicated. The Duke, suspicious activity pinned. The man that Tanaka had overheard the taller Raven talking to on an ear piece that other night, implicated, pinned, ready for the raiding and taking. And the Prince… if the Prince was the Prince Daichi thought the hostage of Corvid’s audio recording was talking about, then this would be a matter of National security.

He snapped to attention.

“Iwaizumi, call the Precinct and tell them to pull up any old complaints and cases against The Eagles, both as a gang and as a wholesale food supplier. Tsukkishima – I want you to go through all the cases and try to find patterns. Kyoutani and Tanaka I need you to go through the weapons database and collate all the information there is to know on scent weapons and materials needed to manufacture them. Asahi I need you to talk to the victims of previous scent weapon attacks so we can pinpoint and learn to recognise the symptoms and common places of attack –“

Daichi continued rattling off jobs that need to get done, but not in a heavy-handed way nor in a way that would be completely unachievable. From what Hinata could see each job suited the respective alpha, and from what Hinata could hear, numerous of these jobs the Corvid’s had already done. He was remined of Suga’s teachings – Be three steps ahead to make up for the biological step behind. And he was curious to see what job the dark-haired alpha would get.

But he didn’t get any.

All the other cops – including the Vice-Captain hurried out of the room, to make calls, leave for the police station to complete their respective task or to finish drying their hair and get ready for the day (Tsukki). It was only Hinata, Kageyama and Daichi left.

“Kageyama.” Daichi said finally turning to the remaining alpha. Hinata stepped back subtly, trying to take the attention away from himself. It worked, albeit partially – Kageyama’s eyes darting towards him at the movement, “I’m going to need you to contact your sister in the Department of Defence and inform them of the threat to the Prince. If you’re asked about the source tell them is was a defective member of the group – because it was.”

There was just a few more links to the chain that the Department of Defence didn’t need to know about.

“Ask them to cancel the trip, or increase security or something.”

“Sir… you know, you’re going to have to call Captain Kuroo.” Kageyama pointed out, immediately throwing water on the confident flames of self-satisfaction of the Captain’s.

“Fuck. I know I have to by law, but that alphas already got a big enough head as it is. If he breaks his case before ours, I’m never going to live it down.” Daichi sighed, “It would be best to tell him everything wouldn’t it?”

Kageyama shifted slightly, then shrugged, “I don’t care. But the cases are intricately connected, so we may have to join forces.”

Daichi groaned and Hinata froze where he stood. Not because he didn’t want to be noticed, but because he physically felt sick. That was a name that he hadn’t heard in a long while, not even from Rook – because they made it a point not to talk about the past. In fact, Rook had reached out to them before he knew it was Hinata. But Kuroo – gods, Kuroo. Even if the alpha saw his photo on a screen it would be game over. He’d be forced to go back, he’d be made known to the world again – presented as something special, when all he had was society’s noose around his neck, incessant press forcing a smile onto his face. There was no way in hell that was happening.

A shiver rocketed down his spine and propelled him into movement again – and both the alphas’ eyes shot towards him.

“Do you reckon I could get a lift back to the gym Cap? Raven stole my ride. And I don’t want to be late.” Hinata could feel the first cool drips of sweat down his back, as his mind chased possibilities of the future where he was found. He fought to keep the smile on his face, but his pallor didn’t help his argument. His stomach gurgled in protest.

Late for what, the phrase was on the tip of both of their tongues – but neither pressed the issue with the omega who looked as if he was teetering on the edge of something bad. But curiosity had made the two alphas their bitch, and Daichi heard it slip from Kageyama’s mouth. Which only made the tense omega tense further.

“Aren’t you of the inquiring mind Officer?” Hinata teased slightly, hearing his voice shake towards the end of his sentence. Fuck, curse the distinctly omegan trait. Kageyama frowned at the waver, but didn’t mention anything of it.

“I’ll give you a lift,” The alpha said decisively and even Daichi lifted his eyebrows at this. The stoic yet hot-headed alpha never offered to do anything that wasn’t work related – pushing himself to the extreme in the station and bickering with everyone elsewhere. This was new – and it was interesting. Perhaps, thought Daichi, Kageyama might be able to do some sort of scouting, try and glean more information from his interactions today with the Corvids, “But I want to know what event I’m giving you a lift to.”

“Deal.”

“Captain, I take that’s okay with you?”

Daichi nodded, somewhat sombrely – “Yeah of course, I have to call Kuroo after all. Fuck his ego will go through the roof, though I guess he’ll be pissed we found out first.”

This time Kageyama saw the way the small Raven tensed beside him, eyes drawn to him in the liminal moments after Daichi’s rumbled ‘Kuroo’. There was no question that he had tensed up at the name, scent leaking ever so slightly – battling against the dominance the scents of the unit had over the room. Though Kageyama guessed quietly, nose twitching, sniffing slightly at the smell of ginger – the Raven wouldn’t be able to smell it at all.

The Captain seemed to take the leaked scent for Hinata trying to grab their attention, and turned his gaze upon him – “I’ll let you two go now anyway. If your Boss needs a hand with everything, we need to maintain our side of the deal as well.”

No one had any idea where that last statement slipped from, not even Daichi himself. Well, maybe it was that dark recess in his mind that told him that he needed to see the silver-haired man again, even if it meant forgoing the law and forgoing every single moral value he stood for. But he wouldn’t address that, not now, not in a million years – so he nodded, and waved them out of the room, disconcerted by the smirk that now played on the Raven’s face.

And when he had the room to himself, he could only feel the blush he repressed grow, and sunk to the floor to slump over the coffee table, resting his hands on the warm keyboard of Iwaizumi’s computer. He wanted to see Crow again. He admitted that much to himself.

Daichi lifted his head to gaze at his stupid reflection in the blank black screen, noticing the way his eyebags had never really left though Iwaizumi had been sure to make him get a full night’s sleep every night. He noticed the way his eyebrows drew together, and tried to smooth out the wrinkles between them with a finger, noticed how a small white scar shone just above his lip, denting the flushed skin. He couldn’t help but compare it to the soft yet sharp features of the angel, perfect skin unmarred save for a mole slightly above his own lips – a beauty mark that couldn’t even begin to capture his perfection, to the slightly angling of the man’s cheekbones, giving him a refined look. The alpha thought of the omega’s soft smile, the sly one, the dangerous one that chilled him – he thought of the way that Crow had snapped the alphas neck after the alpha had stabbed Tadashi and he shivered. He remembered the way his instincts had risen from their slumber and flushed his body with heat, shocked, but – damn, if that’s how protective the omega got over family, how – no, no, no Daichi you cannot think about pups and having a family now. I know you fucking want to settle down but gods above, not with the head of gang.  

He let his head fall back to rest on his hands, but as he did so, something caught his eye. Something matte black and sticking out of the USB port in Iwaizumi’s computer.

The Raven had forgotten the thumb drive.

• ••

“Hello, Takeda?” Suga tried to remain calm over the phone, “Yes, I’m just calling to confirm that we are all good to load at 1600hrs tonight?”

The man on the other end warbled something indistinct to Tadashi and Noya’s listening ears. Suga was sitting on a chair beside Tadashi’s bed, running a hand through the younger man’s hair, comforting him slightly as Noya helped him to eat. It was just some cheese and crackers – because as Noya thought, Tadashi whilst rejected all kinds of food over the past two days couldn’t say no to that. No one could. Not even Suga, who helped himself to the small platter Noya had set down on a tray on Tadashi’s legs.

“It’s come early?” Suga’s voice raised in pitch and both omegas sitting beside him caught onto the tension in his voice and scent that wafted over. As always it was intense, but the Boss seemed to have it under control, not entirely overpowering, “How –“

“Loading time is expected to be 2:00pm to 5:00pm now.” Takeda was quiet in Suga’s ear, “I’m so sorry Suga, but –“

“No, don’t, it’s okay. We’ll be there. Same dock?”

“Yes.” Another crackle of static, presumably the man on the other end beginning to move, “A supplier just bought the rest of our stock, so we’ll have more space for the pups now as well. It’ll just be me and my crew on the boat, so they’ll even be able to walk around and –“

“Thank you, Takeda.” Suga couldn’t help but break into a warm smile at the considerations that other man had put. It took a special kind of person to remain so nice in a world so dirty. Takeda again said something soft and sweet back, another something that neither Noya nor Tadashi could pick up and then Suga’s hand dropped to his lap and he ended the call.

It was 10:00, they had four hours to get the pups together and get to the other side of the city. This would be a tight squeeze, and Oikawa –

“Boss!” Oikawa burst into the room, and his scent followed soon after, filling every crevice with a sweet sharp something that could only mean one thing – “I thought I had more time.”

And then the omega stumbled across the room and fell into Suga’s arms, a sheen of sweat already glistening on the man’s forehead, heat already rising through his body, limbs like lead weighing down Suga. His scent, the heavy smells of petrichor and woodsmoke around a fire in the spring – had only sharpened to the point where it was near overwhelming, supplemented by a sweet accent, common to all omegas in the throes of heat, and just as potent. His hair had deflated to the point where sweat stuck it to his forehead, and his breaths came in shallow gasps.

They didn’t have long before Oikawa would enter the next stage of the heat – where his brain would catch up with his body and start longing for someone, start crying for an alpha. Already his breaths were coming in soft gasps and softer whimpers as he bit his lip and shuddered with new waves of heat. Arched his back, clothes catching and creasing – drenched in pheromone-heavy sweat, the omega clasped onto the front of Suga’s shirt, pushing a growing erection into the man’s hips. His eyes were glazed over – fallen into his heat fast.

The phone clattered onto the ground, but no one paid it any heed, let alone Suga. His hands were shaking as he fought to restrain himself, because all of a sudden he remembered why Oikawa had been that one omega that was consistently rented out to Nobles, eventually sold to one, why his body bore three marks – because even ‘used’ (as society saw it) he still trumped nearly every other omega out there. Scent so inviting in heat, body moving exactly as an alpha would like – exactly as anyone would like, half-lidded eyes glazed over locking him in an intense heated stare, lips shining with saliva, tongue darting out and wetting them ever so slightly. Suga cursed softly as he felt his own body start to cave into the idea of pushing his heat forward.

And as he cursed, his lips parted and Oikawa dove to conquer that space, pulling him into a rough kiss.

“Need… I nee…” The man whimpered softly, not bothering to finished the sentence nor the word, and as he leant back in for another  Suga stood suddenly, pulling the taller man up until his legs wrapped around Suga’s waist, and Oikawa was forced to break the kiss from the difference in height.

He was panting heavily, saliva dripping – and even Tadashi, injured and finding it hard to breathe normally regardless of the atmosphere seemed breathless, eyes unable to tear themselves from the debaucher. Noya at least found within himself the decency to avert his gaze, then feeling a flush creep across his neck and tingles rocket down his spine – excused himself quickly to go fetch heat medicine. Neither his nor Tadashi’s bodies could handle going into an induced heat state right now – not with his recuperation from his imprisoned experience nor Tadashi and his wounds, which, he tsked, were bleeding again.

“I’m going to take him to his room. Tadashi, I know you’re recovering – but call Takeda. Tell him that we’re going to need his crew to be active participants in moving the pups.” Even struggling with a desperate omega in his biologically weaker arms, Suga didn’t release the air of authority he held.

Tadashi somehow managed to meet Suga’s gaze, though his eyes flicked periodically over to Oikawa’s limp form, and the tongue that was now lapping at Suga’s scent glands. Oikawa was one of those rare types of omegas who would latch onto anyone when he was in heat, be it an alpha, fellow omega or even a pheromone-less beta, body unable to take the terrifying concept of being alone, body unable to take the horrifying preposition of having to pleasure himself when someone else could easily do it for him. The thought of being loved scared him, but the thought of being alone scared him even more. So, he lapped at Suga’s scent glands, coaxing out the fresh, but slightly peeved smell of the man.

“But won’t that scare the –“

“We can’t risk them staying here any longer. It’s a risk to our safety and their if we don’t move them soon. So please,” Suga shifted Oikawa’s weight, huffing slightly and letting out a breathy gasp as Oikawa let his teeth scrape along the side of Suga’s unmarred neck. A shiver shot through the man’s spine and Suga glared at Oikawa fiercely, knowing how to handle him. The omega in heat shot back a seductive smile, then pouted slightly, “So please call Takeda.”

With that Suga hobbled off with Oikawa in his arms, jerking back every now and then as the other tried to capture his lips, and resorted to only tutting as Oikawa began to suck on his neck, latching on as a babe would a tit. It was hard to control himself when the smell of rain, the deep rich scents of petrichor invaded his lungs, and when Oikawa was sucking Suga’s own scent out – and together they mixed in arousal, in a way that put images of them two together on a secluded retreat in the deep forests, cabin by a river, tangled legs in fresh sheets but nothing between them. The omega blushed at the lewd thoughts and walked faster.

When they hit the fresh air of the outside, he was thankful that the estate was deserted and no one could see, or smell Oikawa. The man had gone from sucking back to trying to lock lips, whining for more and more and more and how he could make Suga feel so good. And Suga against his better judgement, couldn’t help but get aroused as he felt warm slick wet his front – having already completely soaked through Oikawa’s clothing.

“S’hot…” Oikawa’s voice trembled, phase three was about to start. He’d been denied pleasure, so his body was responding – increasing the heat, increasing the potency of the scent, increasing the pain and pressure on Oikawa to find someone. Suga yanked open the door of their house – the warehouse where their rooms and office spaces were located.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay ‘Kawa.” The omega in heat had started to cry, body spasming. Beautiful brown eyes filled with tears and Suga wished his hands were free so he could wipe them away. His heart ached.

“Need… please… s’hot…hurts.” A string of disconnected words left the slack jaw, and Suga knew, he knew too well what Oikawa was experiencing. Not exactly, because his upbringing had been terrifyingly different to the poor mans, but the pain of heat was common to every omega.

He hobbled up the stairs, putting Oikawa down at the top, to relieve his shaking arms. Suga rubbed them to get the blood flowing again as Oikawa latched to his side, the man’s legs weak and whines increasing in frequency and volume.

“Don’t.. don’t push me away. Stay, stay. Please. Need… need you.”

It broke Suga’s heart to have to isolate Oikawa, to shut the door behind him as he told the omega he’d be back later with water and food and some medicine for the undoubted headache and muscle soreness. It was too late for heat medicine now, but even if it wasn’t Oikawa wouldn’t take it. While he’d shed most of his indoctrinated beliefs from his past, there remained a taught fear of heat medicine, a taught avoidance, one Suga couldn’t get him to shake no matter how many times he told him it was safe to use. No one could take heat medicine when Oikawa was around – he and Hinata had learnt that the night Oikawa dropped. They never asked, but they’d never done it again.

Suga pressed a hand to the plywood door, as he heard the gasps and moans – the whimpers of pain and wanting sighs. And then, gathering himself, he stood and walked back out, out of the House and back to the Hospital. Natsu would know where a spare change of clothes was, after all she’d been teaching Noya about their cleaning and sorting system this morning.

Natsu was at Tadashi’s bed, playing a game on a handheld console – passing it between them as Noya injected Tadashi with heat medicine. They were smiling and laughing, and a few of the pups who were going to be transported this afternoon were also around their beds, having just eaten a late afternoon snack. Ennoshita was with the other pups, the slightly shyer ones, letting them touch his tattoos on his arms and asking about what their favourite snack was. His scent, though unconventional, calmed them, at least the ones who had similar scents, moulded by their rough upbringing.

Suga stood just beyond the threshold, and when he entered, every head snapped towards him and he realised that he smelt strongly of heat.

“Um… Natsu dear, do you know where you and Noya put the clothes this morning? I need to change,” He smiled softly, gesturing to himself. The girl nodded, face flushing slightly, handed the console back to Tadashi, lifted a pup from her lap and rushed off. The small pup – a young girl, sat back by Tadashi’s side, nestling into his neck, watching him play the game.

Ennoshita peered at Suga and then laughed, “Raven did a number on you didn’t he?”

“Hmm?”

Ennoshita tapped the side of his neck, and Suga’s hand flew to feel the drying saliva and tender spot, undoubtedly bruised. Undoubtedly going to blossom into a full-blown hickey. He groaned, “It was better than getting the air sucked out of my lungs.”

Suga made his way over to Ennoshita’s side and dropped down on the bed, pups scurrying out of the way and then moving back towards him, leaning into his side and breathing deeply. None of them were old enough to go into an induced heat state, thank god, but Ennoshita’s flushed neck served as a warning sign.

And then a phone rang.

It sounded from Ennoshita’s pocket, who pulled it out lazily expecting it to be his brother or a scammer than seeing the caller ID hurriedly pressed accept.

“Raven?”

There was only one option of who it could be.

“Wait where are you? Slow down.” Everyone was staring at Ennoshita’s face now.

“I’m at the gym. Officer Kageyama’s here with me. Where are you guys? Am I too late? Is everyone okay? All your scents are stale and I can’t –“

“We’re fine. We’re at the Hospital and uh – oh Suga wants to talk to you.” Ennoshita placed the phone in Suga’s outstretched hand, nodding slightly then mouthing ‘Hinata’. The omegan leader nodded.

“Hello? Raven? Are you there with an Officer? Yes, okay. Speakerphone – can he hear what I’m saying?”

“No. He can’t. I’ve sent him to the other side of the room.” The line crackled and Suga could imagine Hinata sticking his tongue out at the Officer, or at least flipping him off, “What’s the go? I’m so confu–“

“We’re loading at two. Oikawa’s gone into heat. Tadashi still can’t get out of bed so we’ve got two members out of commission. Takeda’s crew is going to help load though. Natsu, Noya and Ennoshita will be coming. I need you to scout.”

“Where am I scouting?” Hinata had snapped to attention, drawing Kageyama’s eyes. His grip on the phone whitened – and the alpha could see how the omega’s gaze darted about the room as he listened.

Suga leant on Ennoshita’s broad shoulder as he answered, feeling a faint weariness overcome him, “The Eagles private wharf, and West Side Noble Estates. Just a general scouting mission, though Oikawa did inform me we need to update our tabs on the Justice Minister and the Lords of House Haiba and locate the new residence of the Lord of House Kuroo.”

“Solo?” Hinata glanced at Kageyama’s form, then when the alpha caught his gaze, flipped him off.

“Dual. I’ll call in the cavalry. Might as well use these detectives after the juicy gossip we gave them this morning. I’ll probably request for their Captain and their Vice-Captain just to fuck with their heads.” Suga tried not to think of Ennoshita’s poignant comment from the other day, about how the Captain probably had the hots for him. The omega blushed unwittingly, but luckily for him, the pups and his colleagues attributed that to Oikawa’s lingering scent of heat on his body. All but one, because Ennoshita was seated right next to him and heard what he said and had on his face a smug grin that Suga wanted to wipe right off, “You can take your pick –“

“Done and dusted.”

In the musty gym, Hinata placed the phone back down behind the counter, eyes turning coolly to eat up the alpha standing observing the trophies on the wall, unaware of Hinata’s decision, his intentions. Hinata had chosen his partner in crime – tonight was going to be wild.  

Chapter Text

It did not take much convincing to get the Officers out on a scouting mission, not when Suga called their private landline, not when he said that this would be necessary to the next steps of  tracking the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate. Daichi had said yes almost immediately, while Iwaizumi had been more cautious, asking why it was only them two Suga wanted and why couldn’t they send one of their other officers.

Suga had tutted into the phone and reminded him that he wasn’t in the position to be asking questions – not after the breakthrough they’d made on the case. Because of Raven, because of their shared efforts in stopping the scent weapons, because of the deal they’d struck the Officers didn’t have the luxury to negotiate.

“Sorry boys,” Suga held the phone to his ear and checked his reflection in the mirror, tugging at the stiff collar. It was only a centimetre too short – the hickey stubbornly peeking out over the starched white material. As it had always been, he differentiated loadings and raids by colours, wearing a white shirt for the loading. A silent promise that blood wouldn’t be drawn. He frowned at the purple bruise, “To ask so much of you at this positively trying time.”

“I’m not saying we won’t do it.” Iwaizumi defensively bit back over the phone, on speakerphone at their end. Suga rolled his eyes at himself, then giving up on trying to cover Oikawa’s mark that he left, tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder and began to scrub at his hands. He had to keep them clean from the scent of heat – which he could still smell lingering in the air around him, catching in the rivulets of the tiles in the bathroom, slinking oppressively through the air, “I’m just inquiring into why you only need two of us.”

“It’s a scouting mission Officer Iwaizumi.” Suga replied coolly, now inspecting his hands. They were red, but smelt of soap rather than Oikawa’s slick and sweat. He shifted awkwardly and moved the phone tentatively to the other ear with still-wet fingers. Yet his voice did not waver, and the people on the other end of the line would’ve guessed he was standing at a window looking out over the city at the tone of authority his voice held, “The main purpose of a scout is to be discreet. Forgive me for saying this, but a whole detective unit isn’t exactly subtle.”

He had a point. Daichi laughed slightly then coughed, probably prompted by a glare from his subordinate, “Crow-san, we’ll be there. Though I’ll have to ask what the purpose of the mission is. We’ll only do it if it agrees to the terms of the deal we made.”

Setting boundaries now are we? Too late. Suga laughed back, his higher and falser, notably so. As if they could back out now, “Oh you’ll do it. It pertains to your case after all. I can’t tell you the details over the phone – because who knows who’s recording?” – Suga could picture the pallor on the Officer’s faces as they realised this phone call could very well be blackmail material. He grinned at his reflection and grabbed the fluffy handtowel beside him. “– Be at the gym in half an hour. You’ll be briefed with Officer Kageyama and Raven-kun.”

He hung up without so much as a warning and dialled another number – one that he could call without even glancing at the numbers. Ingrained in his muscle memory and subconscious. Hinata picked up after one ring.

“Corvid’s gym, how can I –“

“Raven-kun, take Kageyama into the back room and occupy yourselves for the next half hour. Their Captain and vice-captain will be there to be briefed with you then. You can spar but don’t injure him. Remember to control yourself.”

“Yes Crow.” Hinata barked and Suga hung up again, dialling yet another number. His fingers flew across the screen and the dial tone rung loud in the small white tiled space. His eyes caught the glint of a shower head in the mirror.

“Hello? Crow are you calling from the bathroom? You’re literally two rooms away from me right now.” Ennoshita chided immediately, “Really Boss just come out and –“

“I need you to move Tadashi. He’s been given exactly 42 hours of rest, and he won’t go much longer without practice. Before we start moving the pups, can you take him down to The Gym please so he can practice sniping? He won’t be that mobile, but he tends to freak out if he feels that he’s going even slightly rusty. And we’d be idiots to keep him away from his gun. Can you move him?”

“Of course, Boss.”

“And try to get him to start walking. His wound should be closed, and the muscles would have begun to repair themselves.”

“Yes, but if it makes anything worse I’m bringing him back immediately.” Ennoshita wasn’t trying to be rude to his Boss, but the omega who had been raised in an alphan environment knew how to clearly set boundaries, and he knew when to draw a line. It was a quality that leaders had, and it was a quality that Suga greatly appreciated. He only wished the world accepted that omegas had the potential to become leaders, that they were allowed to.

“Thank you Jay-kun.”

The line clicked shut as Suga hung up and dropped the phone on the sink counter listening to it rattle. He stared at himself in the mirror – finally a moment of reprieve. He looked at the shirt, starched collar, cuffs creating sharp lines against black pants, red hickey the only colour dotting his pale neck. His silver hair gleamed in artificial light and he lifted his hand to it, fingering it lightly, rubbing a few strands between forefinger and thumb. Suga briefly wondered if he should dye it, it was getting rather noticeable.

But… he was too attached to it. And Hinata would kill him for it, as would Oikawa when he broke his heat. He’d expressed the same desire many, many years ago, after his first tattoo and they’d staunchly voiced their disapproval – saying that his body was his body and he could tat himself anywhere, but his hair was their property and they wouldn’t ruin such a beautiful thing, even it meant they could get caught by their pasts.

He sighed and turned his back to the mirror, dropped to the floor with a spring of knees that burned in silent protest, and clicked open the briefcase he’d brought with him. Oikawa’s scent had overcome him again in another wave of oppression, and he fought to hold himself together. An induced heat state now would mean the death of everything he’d worked for. The vials of dark murky liquid glinted at him knowingly, white labels reading Crow in printed script.

Syringe sat in plush foam waiting to be filled. Needle sharp and accusatory.

He could feel the first tell-tale signs of an induced heat state. The shivers that climbed his back viciously, the relentless tearing at his nerves as his omegan hindbrain began to slither, headache beginning to form. With trembling hands, he opened the first vial – the cap of which came away easier than usual, the volume slightly less. And he recalled how Oikawa had used some the other day and cursed himself for not seeing accelerated timeline. The more you took the worse your heat was.

He filled the syringe to the brim, until the end was nanometres away from popping out, the liquid beading ever so slightly at the point of the needle.

Suga drove it into his arm.

Ignored the sting, just felt the trickling of coolness over his body. And the heat subsided. But it wasn’t enough. So, he did another – drew another syringe-full, and shot himself with it. Perhaps a bit too fast, bruising appearing in blue blossoms in the crook of his left arm. And this time he felt cold and he felt clear and he knew his body was alright again.

He emerged from the bathroom with a cold tingle to his skin and a resolve to not have his organisation come crashing down around him. It was time to start moving the pups, and getting them into the vans. And it had to be done in a the next half hour, because the cops could not find out about this. They couldn’t find out that they themselves made a living of trafficking omegas, because even though they limited themselves to trafficking willing omegas who were being abused, sold or harmed in some way in ordinary life – the eyes of the law were ‘just’ and the words unyielding in the presence of specifics. The eye of the law saw numbers and words but had no ears to hear the stories Suga had heard, had been burdened with to shoulder. And he’d seen too much to return to the world that saw number and letters, with no names to faces, no faces to stories, no stories to the statistics they cherished.

“Treepie, Blue-jay. Get the two vans ready – we’re moving some pups. And pups? Today you’re going to begin the journey to your new home. A safer, kinder home than here. I swear on my rituals.”

•••

“What was that about?” Tsukkishima leaned on the door frame, watching his two superiors freeze and turn around with the guiltiest look he’d ever seen on them. Worse than that one time he’d seen them chug espresso shots like shots of vodka. And here he was thinking they’d grown out of their police academy days. To be fair to them, it was his fault for picky their dodgy ad for a roommate, and his fault for sticking with them after witnessing Iwaizumi’s reaction to Daichi’s sleepless nights (the longest on record the man had gone awake was recorded in the back of the door of the last stall of the man’s bathroom at the police academy, surrounded by etchings and permanent marker reactions of admirations and peoples attempts to come close — they never did). Tsukkishima was just glad that he only saw that stall once, when his online university course held their exams in the police academy’s large exam hall – the toilets were rank after all, “Are you two going somewhere?”

He’d caught the end of the conversation.

They didn’t meet his eyes, but then Daichi decided he wanted to and look defiantly at the younger man. Despite being the literal Captain of the team, there was a hint of reluctance in his stare.

“Yes. We are.” Iwaizumi said, looking cross. They didn’t have time for bullshit, they had only enough time to be punctual. And, always ready to cover Daichi’s ass.

“Crow called. He’s requested us to go down to the gym.” Daichi moved past Tsukkishima to grab his coat from the rack in the corridor. He fed his arms through it and pulled it on, fixing the collar as he did so. The keys rattled in its pockets, “Just us two.”

“That’s nothing short of suspicious.” He quipped back, “Am I allowed to accompany from a distance?”

“Officer,” The Captain was wearing his Captain boots again, with the authority in his voice that skewed the power balance. His scent leaked slightly in a reminder of who was boss, the initial surprise of Tsukki catching them gone, “Don’t push the boundaries on this one.”

The hint of urgency in Daichi’s voice gave away everything, and Tsukki didn’t allow himself to be pushed back by the alpha, merely releasing some of his own scent and continued to talk – carefully schooling his voice, sculpting it back to the cold, bored tone, “Are you being blackmailed Captain? Is that why you’re so insistent today?”

And the alpha froze. But didn’t turn around. His shoulders didn’t move, but Tsukki could see the tension in each breath the man took, chest expanding in staggered movements, coat shifting. Anger flooded the room as his scent intensified to overpower everything else – the harsh burn of caffeine and muggy weight of early morning dew invading the other alphas’ lungs.

“I’m not being fucking blackmailed Officer Tsukkishima.”

And Tsukki grinned at the broad back of the Captain as the man turned and wrenched open the front door.

“Get in the car.”

Mission accomplished. As much as it pained him to aggravate his Captain – very little, especially when he knew he was right, Tsukkishima knew every little button of the alpha’s that he had to push to get his own way, or at least to anger him enough so that the alpha caved. He, balancing on his crutch, grabbed his coat and then hobbled after Daichi, Iwaizumi waiting for him to get out the door before closing it behind him.

“You shouldn’t’ve pushed him Tsukki.” He growled disapprovingly, stabbing a finger in his direction, then seeing the alpha’s raised eyebrows huffed.

Tsukki merely raised his eyebrow further, “Oh so if you weren’t allowed to come, you’d just back off would you?”

“I–“ Caught off guard, and caught in his own trap, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but let his anger go, and smirked a little in response. He could only imagine what sort of shit show would go down if had tried to irk his way into coming had the roles been reversed. Would’ve involved a lot more fighting, yelling and ultimatums involving old, old academy day photos when both instead of punishing the reckless members of their friends, were the reckless, impulsive idiots, “Yeah, whatever smartass. Just get in the car. You know how much of a stickler for punctuality Daichi is.”

“Big words, Vice.” Tsukkishima smirked as well, tentatively making his way down the steps. He had gotten quite good at manoeuvring with a crutch the past few days, but stairs were still proving themselves an issue.

“You fucking – just. Hurry up. I’ll beat your ass.” As usual Iwaizumi just couldn’t get his tongue around the words he wanted to say fast enough to respond effectively, before Tsukkishima was interjecting again.

“You wouldn’t hit someone who’s wounded –“

Iwaizumi slapped him on the upside of the head and Tsukkishima tilted forward slightly, but didn’t fall, though he swayed. From the car, Daichi slammed open the door and roared at them to hurry the fuck up, because they didn’t have all fucking day. Iwaizumi had been right, Daichi was a stickler for punctuality, and he wasn’t about to hide that fact.

The car ride was mostly silent. At first Daichi was fuming, but as the scenery flashed by and they moved off crowded roads to the less populated back streets his rage (and consequential road rage) subsided. And Tsukki, sitting in the back, checking the news updates on his phone knew not to push it. Only Iwaizumi was able to breath comfortably, knowing he had fuck all to do with the tension, and revelled in his pocket of safety. On his lap he held open the newest folder they had made – of information on the Corvids. He twirled a pen in his fingers, and ran over the memories of the past – was it week now? – in his mind.

“Daichi can you –“

“What.” The Captain snapped, then eyes widened slightly realised his mistake and shook his head, “Sorry. My fault, continue.”

“Can you remember anything else about Crow? Or Rook? We don’t have much information on them yet.” Iwaizumi tapped the blank space under their respective headings on the page. Then flicked over the page, and the next, peering at the two police files they had on Tadashi Yamaguchi and Chikara Ennoshita, the latter of which they’d read at the station and promptly stopped to watch Asahi excuse himself. Even Tanaka had looked a little green. The sole survivor of an extremist arson attack on an omegan orphanage, found after three days of searching next to the charred skulls of his fellow omegas. It was sickening and tragic, and Iwaizumi couldn’t believe the expressionless face of the gang member had such a dark past. He frowned at the page, “Or the Ravens for that matter.”

“Well Crow did say that he was getting tattoos done by Ennoshita for many years before the man joined them. He joined after he stumbled in covered in blood. Though Crow said that that was a story for another time so…” Daichi shrugged, flicking his blinker on and turning into the first road of the industrial estate. They still had around five minutes before they reached warehouse 42 – that is, the Corvids’ Gym. Tsukkishima listened with growing interest, turning his phone off silently as Iwaizumi jotted that down, “May expect to hear that story in the future.”

“Okay.” Iwaizumi tapped the page with the pen again, feeling something niggle and then – “Oh. I forgot to mention the other day, but the taller Raven takes suppressants –“

“Don’t all omegas do that?”

“BUT,” Iwaizumi talked over the top of Daichi, ignoring him, “But, the night of the raid Kageyama and I also saw him take drugs. Liquid, pale red, I think.”

Tsukkishima stiffened, and despite his rocky status with the Captain of that moment felt the need to comment. He met the Captain’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, “That’s a – they use a stimulant of similar description in illegal sports matches, as a way to increase the violence in alphas.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi twisted around in his seat, “Is that the stuff they’re always injecting before the cage fights?”

Daichi frowned, “You watch them?”

“Well yeah, remember one of the guys we were tracking a few years ago had links to the underground fighting rings and we had surveillance installed? I just watch that now.” Iwaizumi’s lip quirked up as the images ran through his mind. In the blank column beside Raven (the tall one) he jotted down the extra information Tsukki just gave them, “Before you say anything Daichi, I’ve already reported it to the Capital branches – they just haven’t done anything about it. Speaking of, did Kageyama end up calling his sister about the Prince?”

Daichi spun the wheel and pulled the car over until the wheels were centimetres away from the curb. The false front of the Corvid’s gym glared down at them, “You know you can just ask him yourself.”

“Still in a mood huh Captain?” Tsukki smirked and opened the car door, not seeing the furious look Daichi sent his way. If there was anything the Captain hated it was his authority being undermined. Call it an alpha thing, he called it wanting plain bloody respect.

“Drop it Captain. You know that’s just how he is. Let’s just keep our eyes open for more information.” Iwaizumi said, clapping a hand on Daichi’s shoulder. Both alphas would’ve hissed at each other, had they not known the seriousness of the situation – but they did know. They were about to step into another hornet’s nest filled with landmines and knives pointed at the backs, dangerous people behind facades of smiles. They had to have each other’s backs.

As Daichi got out of the car Iwaizumi slipped the folder under the seat, hoping that that was enough to keep it concealed. At least relatively so. He followed Daichi out, and into the sun. Tsukkishima was already hobbling up the path, and Daichi had gone to his side helping him over some uneven ground, fight forgotten at the other alpha’s struggle. Iwaizumi found himself shaking his head, it had always been like that with Daichi. He was as reliable as they came, but still knew how to have a semblance of fun – if the memories proved true.

The inside of the gym was cool, the air conditioner humming softly. No one was behind the counter, but just as it had been the first day if he stood really still and cocked his ear towards the door innocuously labelled ‘Staff Only’, Iwaizumi could hear soft thumps. The others could also hear it, tilting their heads. Only Tsukkishima looked slightly confused, shifting to get the crutch comfortable under his arm as he cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing at the door. Daichi wasted no time going to it, opened it to murky black shadows and walked inside. Iwaizumi nodded at Tsukkishima to follow.

The inside was surprisingly large to Tsukkishima, lit by a few harsh lights, throwing large shadows over the corners of the room. In the middle of it however, under one of the lit sections a boxing ring of some description stood. Except instead of being bounded by rope was bounded by barbed wire. The silver glinted in the light, as did the blood that trickled down from the two members standing in the middle of the ring – both panting heavily, neither having seen the newcomers.

Kageyama had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing toned muscle and red scratches, and his hands were loosely clenched in front of his face – boxer’s stance. Though all the alphas knew better than to think so little of him. It wasn’t every day The Port got a fresh-faced transfer from the Northern Military, but over the past few years working alongside this man they knew how ruthless he could be. There was a stark difference between fighting for other’s lives, and fighting for your own – even if they were both happening at the same time. Tsukki knew this, and his analytical eyes saw this in the glances at the black-haired man, who as much as he hated, was nearly as talented as they came.

Then his eyes shifted across to see the contender, and realised that he wasn’t the contender but probably the reigning champion. Short, orange hair – scent blocked by an obvious white patch on his neck, so probably omega – muscles not as prominent but still a wiry mass, and a horrifying look in his eyes. Pure determination, pure bloodlust. His hands were not even up, instead hung relaxed at his sides, but his legs stood in a stance that even Tsukki didn’t recognise. And with a glance at his colleagues – they didn’t know what it was either.

Either way, they looked pretty bruised, and blood trickled from a cut in Kageyama’s upper arm. The orange-haired man smiled and spat blood onto the ground, “Again. Try that again.”

A whistle blew, and another person walked into the light. Hobbled more like. Black hair tinged green, baby-faced, the man clutched at his side and at the whistle in his hand. He leant forward on the barbed wire, “Round 45 goes to Raven. Fourth consecutive win. If he gets another win Officer he wins the game.”

The whistle blew again, and Iwaizumi sent a soft wolf whistle, causing the two in the ring to stop in their intense stare off and look to the source of the noise. Tsukkishima watched the man with the whistle do the same, eyes widening. Tadashi, meanwhile, could feel his chest constricting at the presence of three more alphas – one was honestly enough. His back throbbed, and he would’ve teetered slightly, had it not been for barbed wire he clung to. He could see the blond-haired alpha he’d stared at down the barrel, and could feel the man’s eyes locked on him and a shiver ran down his back. Too many people, too many eyes. His hands clenched around air as he absentmindedly reached for his gun. Not there. His back throbbed painfully again.

Hinata saw Tadashi’s actions and frowned softly, but couldn’t address him without drawing more attention to the man. His heart ached for the omega, knowing full well that he suffered from extreme anxiety and couldn’t handle the alphan presence very well unless he knew he could get out, had an escape route so to speak – a sure one. Being trapped was the omega’s worst nightmare, it reminded him too much of his past. So Hinata didn’t address him, didn’t send so much as a hopefully comforting glance in his direction, before turning to the Officers.

“So, you’re here for the briefing, aren’t you?”

They guessed he would’ve known already. Crow wouldn’t have kept the scouting mission from his team. Daichi nodded and Tsukki did the same, carrying on the sentiment, “Yes, but by all means please continue. It’s not every day we see Kageyama getting his ass beat.”

“I like you already blond-hair.” Hinata laughed, his eyes not losing the manic shine. Tsukki wasn’t sure if he could say the same, hairs on the back of his neck raising when the omega’s eyes grazed over him. Kageyama scoffed. Tadashi coughed softly, raised the whistle to his lips and blew again.

“Round 46 start.” He said in a small voice before stumbling back from the wire, watching the shadows shift as Kageyama lunged forward, aiming to punch the living daylights out of Hinata. Tadashi could feel the eyes leave him as things in the ring got more heated, and he couldn’t help but sigh. Alone. Alone to walk over to the shadows and grab his sniper rifle from where it sat propped against the wall. He sunk to the ground, feeling the wound in his back throb and began to disassemble the rifle, dragging a cloth from his pocket to wipe it down for the fifth time that day. There hadn’t been a chance to set up the moving targets yet, nor had there been a chance to get up into his favourite position on the cross beams that held the warehouse’s shape. But guessing by the way his chest and back throbbed with silent insistence, he wouldn’t be doing any of that today. So, he cradled his rifle instead, feeling a sense of safety with it in his arms.

In the ring, safety was not an option. That was being made clear to the alphas watching. For every kick or punch that Kageyama threw out, the omega would avoid and counter attack effortlessly. For every kick or punch that Hinata threw out, the alpha would block and counter attack with ease. They were nearly evenly matched. Except for the fact that all of spectators couldn’t shake the feeling that Hinata was messing with Kageyama, at least just a little bit. The eyes hadn’t lost their gleam, it had turned mischievous instead. Perhaps Kageyama felt it as well, because his next blow faltered in its advances.

But he pulled through and punched, and it hit air. Literal air. Hinata pivoting on his left leg and darting away, gracefully so – like a swan held hostage by the music. The omega grinned, “Is that all you got?”

So Kageyama tried again, tried to sweep the legs out from under the omega with a low kick, then followed with a tight uppercut using his momentum for force and speed. But he missed, as Hinata jumped higher than anyone had seen – really, he was flying like his namesake – and used the fist of Kageyama to kick off of and backflip in mid-air. The timing was impeccable, as if rehearsed thousands of times, muscles remembering the times he’d succeeded and fearing the known pain of failure. The alpha was thrown off, back hitting the barbed wire, and Hinata landed without so much as a sound, bending his knees and shifting his feet until they pointed out at forty-five-degree angles, much like a stuntman, ballerina or perverse imitation of both.

Tadashi glanced up at the clanging of metal on metals as the barbed wire was manipulated further and blew the whistle, “Round 46 goes to Raven. Raven wins the game.”

“Shit.” Kageyama swore, peeling himself from the wire, feeling the blood ooze from the indents it had left. A hand appeared in his vision, and beyond that Hinata’s blinding grin.

“Want a hand?” The omega hummed, and as the alpha took it, using it to manoeuvre himself to a standing position. He winced as he felt the blook start to soak through the back of his shirt, the fabric sticking to his wounds. The wire had been blunt enough to not tear it, but sharp enough to cut. Though he didn’t consider himself a lucky guy. Hinata also hissed through his teeth when he saw the wince, grimacing slightly in sympathy, “You learn quickly to get hit rather than falling back. There’s one thing Crow always says – make sure your escape routes are actually escape routes.”

“Wow, how smart of him.” Kageyama’s back had started to sting, and his hands bit slightly as he pushed the barbed wire down to step over them. While he’d said it sarcastically, he had to admit that it was a good saying to hold, there was wisdom in the rhythm – but he had to wonder how exactly Crow had heard it, and how many more little sayings he was going to hear in the future. He didn’t know what to think of the man, his past seemed intricately deep and to be able to control, or at least know how to manage this orange-haired menace of a fighter was something to be marvelled at.

Hinata had jumped the wire with ease, rushing to Tadashi’s side, and smirking, “Magpie you’re next.”

Tsukkishima stiffened when he heard the name, surely, no, what? That man? Daichi and Iwaizumi grimaced as if recalling a memory that they didn’t want to – which was true, because they didn’t want to reminded of the man’s codename, nor name, starkly printed on white page right above the words – 

“Raven,” Tadashi’s admonishment was soft, “at least help the Officer with his wounds first. Besides it’s not as if we have the targets set up.”

“Wow, do I hear someone who’s scared?” Hinata was, as always, quick to retort. His eyes shone with mirth and challenge that ignited something in the pit of Tadashi’s stomach. As it had done nearly everyone the mini sun had met – for a moment the omega became the centre of the solar system, and Tadashi a temporary planet, caught up in his gravitational pull.

“No.” Short answer, short tone, but the omega smiled slightly anyway.

Tsukkishima watched with silent curiosity as his two superiors went to help Kageyama. The alpha looked pissed off at his loss, but his eyes weren’t necessarily angry. They were just fixated on the orange-haired omega, whom Tsukkishima now knew as Raven. Curious. And now Raven was looking back at his colleague as well, smirk dancing over his lips – “I’m pretty sure the Officer can take care of his wounds himself. They’re only scratches.”

Only scratches – Kageyama winced in pain again, having been through skirmishes on the frontlines in the North, having lived through a war and been at the forefront, knew that back injuries fucking hurt. Even though, it was true that shallow injuries like these were only considered scratches, especially amongst troops who were glad to return to the barracks alive every night. But just where had Raven gained that mentality from? Despite having seen the man literally bathed in blood multiple times in a row, Kageyama still questioned his brutality and blunt nature, “Shut up Raven-kun.”

“Oh, Bakayama surely your thick head will guard you from the pain.” Hinata rolled his eyes and turned back to Tadashi, who was acutely aware of the blond-haired man’s gaze on him. It made his scent sour slightly in fear as he trembled and struggled to keep it fully suppressed. Tadashi felt like a live wire, every nerve screaming at him to get away from the attention, away from the alphas.

The door clanged open just as Hinata had opened his mouth to speak again.

What happened next, Tsukkishima was not prepared to witness. He had barely glanced towards the door upon hearing the noise, then hearing the distinct clatter of metal on metal turned back to see the dark-haired omega reassembling what looked like a sniper rifle at record speed. The man’s hands were trembling and his eyes were locked on the door, but his fingers traced each part in precision that rivalled some of the best snipers in the police academy. A split second later and the barrel of the gun was turned towards the door, and the fearful scent of smoked fish and honey hit him like a ten-ton truck to the head. It catapulted him back to the most painful night of his life and the lingering scent of fish and honey on the bullets that had pierced his skin with ease, the red still captured in his memory. This, this frightened man, who looked like a cornered animal in front of the Officer’s and his friend, had been the one to snipe him down. How could such a weak – no, Tsukkishima shook his head upon seeing the look in Tadashi’s eyes, a quiet determination to rival the manic edge in his friend’s eyes. Forget the fact that he was an omega, how could such a sweet, anxious looking man get roped into this business?

And then another scent hit him, hit everyone in the room simultaneously as a silver haired beauty entered, settling a sweet calming scent of honeysuckle over the room, followed by the crispness of fresh linen. Crow entered the room.

For the first time Daichi saw the man wearing white, and he wondered why the angel didn’t do it more often. It captured a dainty side to the omega that hadn’t been there in the professionalism of black shirts and slacks, though he had to admit to himself that Crow did look hot no matter what he wore. Hot? Gah, what are you thinking? Daichi you idiot. Stop, remember who both of you are, you can’t have thoughts like these. But it was hard to stop thinking with that levelling gaze on him.

“You’re all here? Good.” Suga sounded slightly breathless, as if he’d just been running, and Hinata tilted his head in questioning. Suga shook his slightly, and motioned for the man to not worry, the omega nodding in response. Only Tadashi and Tsukki caught this interaction, their eyes locking for a brief second before Tadashi’s darted away. He clutched his gun tighter in his hands, barrel falling to face the ground, and allowed Hinata to help him to his feet.

Suga stepped forward, into the light, walking towards the centre of the room and closer to the barbed wire enshrouded boxing ring. Under the light, his shirt appeared more tousled, and his collar wrinkled. His hair, normally brushed to at least looked semi-put together, stood out at odd angles, and he ran a hand through it in a desperate attempt to reinstate order.

Hinata started to laugh, “Wow, Raven-san really did a number on ya didn’t he?”

The older omega flipped him off unkindly, reaching up and tugging his collar higher. His mistake. Because as soon as he did so Daichi’s eyes caught the movement and followed his hand up, noticing the unkempt collar and the dark purple bruise beyond that. One that peeked over the white, shaped in such a way that had his instincts vying for control over his body. Anger an emotion making itself very known, face flushing, hands clenching. Iwaizumi’s eyes also travelled to the offending hickey and was torn between smirking and frowning. Frowning because there was more the omega was hiding and it could potentially make their situation and deal a whole lot more complicated, and smirking because he hadn’t seen Daichi this worked up over something personal in years.

“Who…” Daichi stopped, then started again with a different operative word, mind struggling to keep up with the possessive blanket his inner alpha shoved over him, “Why do you have a hickey on your neck?”

Suga quirked an eyebrow, and Kageyama – who had been staring at the laughing Raven, wondering if he’d ever heard a genuine laugh come out of the man before, and Tsukkishima – who had been gazing steadily at the standing Magpie, gun still in his hands, the bird’s eye trained on Crow, the alpha committing to memory the side profile, whipped their heads from their respective interests to stare at the place Suga now covered with his hand. The omega sighed, “And here I was thinking I might be able to get away with it. I can’t go into detail, because the briefing needs to happen and I need to go tend to other responsibilities.”

Rushed and pointed. Tsukkishima narrowed his eyes at the way Hinata and Tadashi both nodded in understanding, both of them snapping to attention. It seemed the Crow ran a tight ship, but it also seemed as if something had disrupted his plans. The alpha wondered if it was the Officer’s blatant intrusion of the Corvids privacy, or if it was perhaps an external thing, or maybe another part of the gang that they weren’t privy to yet. Tsukkishima wasn’t a pushover and he wasn’t an idiot, and by the way Kageyama glanced at him from the corner of his eye, he knew that at least one other Officer here had noticed. As much as he hated to express it – so he never did – Kageyama had acute observational skills.

“I’ll keep it short. Raven went in to heat, I tended to him.”

“That doesn’t explain –“ Daichi began, trying not to let his voice rise too much against the strain of whatever the fuck was happening in his body. His inner alpha had never been tossed into so much of a protective rage, disgustingly more aggravated now than in any rescue mission before. Maybe it had something to do with the thoughts he’d been having recently, though at even the thought of those thoughts he shuddered and reminded himself of where exactly he was, and precisely why he couldn’t be thinking those thoughts. Because those thoughts, where he left those kind of marks — were strictly for times when it was just him, a box of tissues and an alarm clock with the assaulting digits of 2:36 am. Daichi shook himself mentally.

Suga sighed, shook his head and resigned himself to giving up this particular bit of information, knowing that Oikawa would actually murder him the moment he broke his heat. The omega hated people knowing of his past, to the point where not even Natsu knew, only Hinata because Hinata had been there for the latter part of it, and by circumstance Suga had come to know as well, “He’s a purebred.”

Not pureblood, purebred. A purebred omega.

It shut everyone up. The implications were world shattering for some of the alphas. All of a sudden, images were flying through Kageyama’s head of some of the houses in the Capital that he’d seen in the lower districts – omega houses claiming to have only the best. Information from his sister when she returned home at night, dejected because yet another breeding circle had been discovered and raided, only to find omegas in a perpetual forced heat – bodies so sensitive, so coveted that they were raped nearly every night, experiencing pseudo heat after pseudo heat. How female omegas were forcefully impregnated with the sperm of male omegas – again and again, for the one in a thousand chance that they would successfully give birth to a omega. That happened 100% of the time, but the majority were stillborn — a living child one in a thousand. And the births that happened again and again through the generations, who had only omegan ancestry – only those people had the privilege to be called purebred. It was illegal on a million levels, and it turned Kageyama’s gut to just hear about it. But now to hear someone that he’d interacted  with, he’d talked to, he’d seen mock and tease with ease had such a haunting past? It seemed impossible.

Iwaizumi felt the same way, except he felt that ten times worse, with none of the background but all of the experience. Because for the first few years out of the police academy, before Daichi had pulled some incredible stunts to scale the career ladder and make it as a Captain then recruit his old buddy for Vice, he’d been a rookie on the Capital’s Investigative Team – on the teams Kageyama sometimes talked about around the table late at night, except Iwaizumi never had the heart to bring up his past experiences. Jarring. Because for all he knew, he might’ve rescued Raven’s parents, or seen them used as hostages and seen them slaughtered right in front of the Investigative Team. Cause some of the twisted perverted alphas that set up the breeding circles and smuggling rings would rather watch the world burn as they did. He squeezed his eyes shut, and forced himself to take a deep breath, “That would explain it then.”

Daichi felt like shit for getting worked up, and though he had no background or experience – having had devoted himself community service and setting up alarm stations in rural places so people could easily raise the flag for help, he had heard things through his unit’s grapevine. Raven was one of those special omegas that craved touch no matter how much he didn’t want it when in heat – mind and body at constant war, probably facing constant pain. A biological rarity, a biological mistake treated as a gift.

“Sorry I –“ He began to apologise, guilt an acid over him, but Suga put up a hand and stopped him.

“You didn’t know. And I would appreciate this is it could stay between us,” The omega caught the look on Tsukkishima’s face, “Or at least the unit. It’s not even common knowledge within the Corvids.”

He tilted his head towards Tadashi shocked, but now blushing face, then checked his watch – he had to be at the loading point in forty-five minutes. Barely enough time. Suga drew an audible breath, and the alphas noticed how the two omega’s eyes burned into their boss – going into a state of intense focus. Tsukkishima saw how the grip on the gun loosened then tightened, Magpie – the man who had murdered his own parents, biting his lip in anticipation. And the report had said the murder was premeditated. Impossible. And Kageyama saw the way Raven’s eyes lit up, gleaming in the soft light, lips wet with saliva. He wasn’t exactly sure what the man was hungry for, but the focus and the tension in wiry muscles caused his face to burn, more than his back did.

Suga also noted the way his family zeroed in on him, and he was grateful for the attentiveness. But he didn’t have the time to express it.

“This is a scouting mission.” There was no room for miscommunication, and his voice held an authority – something that send tingles up and down the alpha’s spines. Unease crept into Tsukkishima’s heart, this man was very, very dangerous, and oddly familiar. A voice similar to one he’d heard many times on television, was Crow a former movie star? He wouldn’t discount it. Though the military seemed a better fit for his tone.  Clear, crisp, demanding but not demeaning, straight to the point and no mincing of words, Suga drove his words into their minds with a levelling gaze falling on each of them as he talked, “You don’t want to be seen, smelt, detected. Your purpose is to gather information and to achieve your objectives. The minute you are seen, you fight or –“ He looked at Hinata pointedly, “you fly.”

No one questioned the look he sent. No one dared speak.

“Raven, Officer Kageyama – I need you on reconnaissance. Update the tabs we have on the Justice Minister and the Lords of the House Haiba and House Nohebi. The Lord of House Kuroo has moved again so figure out where he resides.” Without skipping a beat to look at the shock on the alphas faces at all the names that spilled so easily from his lips, Suga continued on to address the next pair, “Captain Sawamura, Vice-Captain Iwaizumi – Eagles private wharf, their storage facility on the West Side industrial estate doubles as a base so don’t go there, it’s too dangerous, but there’s a bar a friend owns close by which their men frequent. Go there and record anything and everything. The Temptress’ Tavern. Officer Tsukkishima, Magpie, your presences for this discussion were not required but not entirely unexpected, so given the nature of your wounds and professions, I’ll need you two scouting the Royal Suite and finding any areas that may give a sniper access to the building.

“Gear is in the black boxes in that room over there.” Heads spun to gaze upon an unassuming door then flicked back around to the commanding omega now pacing the floor in front of them. The alphas remained still where they stood, police training coming in handy as they absorbed the information, albeit with some shock, “Clothes, if need be, guns, knives, tasers. Magpie, Raven your specialised gear is also in there. I had Blue-jay move it earlier. Ear pieces have been made and programmed for you Officers. Controlled remotely, tap once to open the line. Everything that that goes on is fed through our informant, so if you’re needed he’ll activate your ear-piece. I want updates hourly, location, progress and position. If everything goes to shit, find refuge in the founds.” Suga checked his watch again, he had thirty minutes now to get to the loading. Which was not enough to be on time, but enough to there to see them off, to see the operation to completion. He glanced a Hinata, throwing him a look to which Hinata nodded.

“Thanks Crow-san. I’ll take it from here. Go check in on Raven again.”

He wouldn’t, but it wasn’t meant as a suggestion, nor an order — merely an excuse for Suga to get out of there, so no one would find his haste suspicious. Well at least, more suspicious then they had his actions already, though those were also easily brushed off by Oikawa’s heat. Perhaps that was a blessing in disguise, just not for the omega that found himself in the middle of some of the most painful, dazed moments of his life, heat crawling languidly up his skin, mocking every breath he took, sweat hot and sick burning his skin in wanton desire. Hinata’s heats were already awful with his hormones out of whack, but with the treble bonded purebred omega — he couldn’t imagine the scale to which he felt the pain. So as the orange haired omega provided the excuse, and Suga practically sprinted from the room (he walked so fast, it looked as if his feet didn’t touch the ground), the alphas merely narrowed their eyes but accepted it.

And were left in an uncomfortable silence.

Hinata seemed to forget that Oikawa wasn’t there with him, Tadashi noted to himself, the man almost waiting to hear the other’s mocking drawl, lilting derisions or cold instantaneous commands. It was a split second before realisation struck and Hinata cleared his throat, looking only a bit disturbed at the loss. When he spoke, his words lingered in the air ever so slightly laying a trail for someone else to take – before realising no one there knew him so well as to do that, and picked up his own loose ends, “Well, there’s no time limit on this, so you take as long as you want – but I don’t want to burden the boss. Bakayama, let’s get our gear.”

That was enough to stun them into moving again.

•••

Across the other side of the city, twenty-five frightened pups stood in the briny air, on damp concrete waiting for their fates to change. Ennoshita’s intimidating presence providing a sense of safety from the roughened seafarers, they crowded in his shadow, and in the arms of the young orange-haired nurse they had called Natsu, and learned to call Treepie, and one of their brothers who had somehow become a part of the Corvids. Not that they weren’t happy for him of course, merely in awe of Nishinoya’s courage and ability to bounce back from tragedy.

The clouds above moved lazily in contrast to the harsh wind that picked itself off the ocean and swept up onto land. The cigarette perched between Ennoshita’s fingers glowed orange and the ash dropped faster than before, and his eyes squinted in the sharpness of the gales, focused on a single point. Each set of eyes stared off into the distance, at the ship that approached steadily, and the seafarers that yelled unintelligible words  at their comrades, all of them dressed in the same orange and black uniform with snow white bandanas wrapped around their heads.

As the boats docked, the smell of salt only grew stronger, barnacles and rust dotting the hull of the large ship, but still doing little to cover the nearly overwhelming scent of alphas. Sweat covered, goal-orientated, large muscled and scarred alphas, removing crates and shipping containers and driving vehicles covered in all manner of boxes onto the ship via a large ramp that came clattering to the concrete of the dock. The small group stood off to the side and waited for their turn, trying not to get underfoot.

It took a while for someone to notice them. In fact, it happened just as another car rolled up to the chain link fence of a gate, the silver haired man, looking a little worse for wear, tumbling out of the car and looking anxiously around. Ennoshita noticed and waved Suga over.

“Am I.. am I late?” Suga panted, professionalism gone with the wind and gone with his fears. The question was made null and void when he looked behind his friend to see twenty-five pairs of little scared eyes staring up at him and immediately he was compelled to release some of his scent. Forcefully calming himself, he allowed the scent of honeysuckle and fresh linen to become an anchor for the pups – and by the way his family relaxed, for them as well.

At the scent, another person hurried over. Unkempt black hair that still seemed neat – even given the elements, steady hazel eyes behind square-framed glasses, the scholarly-looking man looked out of place. That is, until he turned and shouted at the moving men in a language that none of the party knew, but Suga recognised faintly. He should’ve paid more attention to his lesson as a child. At that call, every sailor yelled back in the same tongue, those with free hands saluted and everyone stopped what they were doing to do something else, changing patterns flawlessly.

Instead of boxes and crates, suddenly they had blankets and food and someone was counting the number of pups in their group. A large burly man knelt next to a young girl and smiled gently, asking her something in broken English about what her favourite colour was and how old she was. At first apprehensive, with Nishinoya’s encouraging – and positively infective – smile, she answered holding up two chubby fists of five and two fingers respectively, and saying yellow with no hitch in her breath.

“Ko – Crow. It’s good to see you again,” The bespectacled man reached out a hand for Suga to shake, but the man forwent that and embraced the other softly. When they pulled back, Suga had a small smile playing with his lips, and the man a broader one.

“Likewise, Takeda-sensei.”

Ennoshita had seen this twice before, but every time the sensei managed to shock him. To him Suga, for all his faults and flaws as a human being, still seemed to be the epitome of wisdom and knowledge, his saying and instructions having saved his arse multiple times over the past eight months – often times without him even realising. So it was a shock for him to find out that Suga had people he also respected and looked up to (call him an idiot, but he idolised the man, so it was only natural it shocking that his idol had idols). That had been his teachers. By proxy, Ennoshita held a massive amount of respect for Takeda, even if he had no idea why.

“I’ve just told the men to set up two rooms on board for the pups to go. We shouldn’t run into any restrictions because we’ve gotten the Crown Prince’s approval for the shipments.”

Suga lifted an eyebrow at the mention of the monarch, “What of?”

Takeda glanced at Ennoshita, who was now wrestling with one of the pups who refused to part with his pants leg, then Nishinoya who was speaking to one of the sailors in the seafarer’s mother-tongue, much to Natsu’s apparent surprise as she halted in her hand clapping game with a small rather annoyed omegan boy. The omega sighed and pushed the glasses up his face, “I can’t tell you that Crow. You know that. The only reason I can safely smuggle there kids out is because the royals trust our business, because no information gets leaked. Though if they knew I was doing this with you, they’d have my head on a stake before anyone of us could say a word.”

“Right. But I can still trust you with the pups, yeah? Their lives are my responsibility, I don’t –“

“Of course!” Takeda interjected, face breaking out into a smile, “Trust me Crow. I’ve risked my life for you before, and I’ll do it again any day. I’m your teacher after all.”

“You’re embarrassing sensei.” Suga responded immediately, but he laughed nonetheless – grateful.

A peel of laughter filled the air as a sailor tossed one of the small pups into the air, large arms catching the small boy easily and swinging him around. A chorus of ‘me nexts’ erupted, small and smaller arms reaching out to the burly sailor whose grin split wider than the ocean he’d sailed across. The air, besides being punctured with noise, was permeated with the happy scents of the pups, soft and quite fruity omegan scents, and the heavier but still content scents of the alphas, of salt and moss and foreign lands that intrigued people so. And Suga’s face also crumpled into a soft smile and look that Takeda recognised as his ‘motherly love’ look, “Yeah, I trust you. I think they’ll be fine.”

They spent the next hour loading and helping the sailors load the ship with new tools to trade and products to sell in their home country, and the next hour after that sitting around with the pups and the sailors waiting until Takeda got the okay from the men at the lighthouses that enclosed the bay the Port was nestled around, the okay that meant the waterways were cleared and he could get through with little trouble.

In the meantime, they drank tea that was fragranced with jasmine and ginger to which Natsu blushed when Takeda mentioned that the original smelled sweeter, and had Suga growling in her stead, telling Takeda to lay off the teasing. The other man had laughed, and said that if only they could make a tea with the other members of her family, then with a twinkle in his eye excused himself to go check on the pups. A moment later Suga joined him, hastily leaving.

“What is it Takeda-sensei?” Suga levelled him with a hard stare.

“Where’s Shoyou?” Takeda hissed, façade dropping to hint at the worries the older omega held, “Is he still with you? Is he safe? Have you managed to convince him to go see a doctor about his stomach yet?”

“Takeda, Takeda. Stop. He’s fine. It’s been eight years; I’d know if something was wrong with him still.”

“Sorry, I just…” Takeda trailed off, lifting his glasses with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with the other.

“It okay. I understand your worries, he’s fine if not a bit unstable at –“

“He’s still experiencing those hormone fluctuations? Gods above Koshi – he needs to see a doctor.”

“Don’t call me that.” Suga hissed immediately, hands clenched tight at his sides to stop himself from raising them against his teacher. Instead, his scent began to leak, turning the corridor’s sterile smell sickly sweet and slightly rancid, “And you know I can’t take him to a doctor Sensei, if they recognise him he’s going straight back to the Lord of House Nohebi, and I can’t risk that.”

“You mean you don’t want to risk them recognising you.” Takeda returned his levelling gaze with an infinitely harder, colder expression, “I thought I taught you to be more considerate than this.”

“Well apparently it runs in the fucking blood.” At the swear his voice pitched, then realising exactly what he’d done, where he’d done it and what he’d said – clarity rushing to him in a mortifying instant –  he clapped a hand to his mouth and forced himself to be quiet. Takeda also seemed to have been slapped by the words, and looked slightly dizzy at the lack of air that was getting to his lungs. Suga hastily tried to control his scent, internally cursing its potency, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. This is exactly why I didn’t bring him though, if he’s pressured anymore he’s going to drop and I really can’t risk that.”

“No, it’s my fault for raising this topic in this way. Don’t blame yourself. Really. I’m sorry.” Takeda also hastily tried to rectify the situation.

It always ended up this way, every time they disagreed, it both ended with the both of them apologising profusely and nearly getting into a whole new argument about who was sorrier. Both high-strung and unable to be bullshitted, they were each other’s worst enemies and best friends – well at least in the case of the student/teacher dynamic. Suga took a deep breath, sighed and took a conscious step back, focusing on reeling in his scent before continuing to talk. Takeda took the opportunity to gather his thoughts and jump in front of the other omega.

“I’ll say it again Ko – sorry Crow, I really am sorry. It was his memorial a few days ago, and I went to it, and ever since then I’ve been so emotional and I can’t stop thinking about what he did. To be pushed so far as to do that to himself Crow – and we were there the entire time. We could’ve –“

“Stop beating yourself up about it.” This time Suga had the courage to take his teacher by the shoulders and look at him straight in the eyes, “It’s been eight years. Neither of us were in the position to help.”

Takeda struck him an accusatory look, “I wasn’t but you were. Even if you couldn’t convince the populace – your brothers!”

“My brothers didn’t know shit. And they wouldn’t’ve cared. We didn’t leave for them Takeda. I left for Shoyou, I left for Oikawa, I left for myself and my real family that I chose to create. So, we could make an actual change. Nothing you say can change the past.” Suga spoke with a finality in his tone, and with an authority that made Takeda so nostalgic for the past – but to a subject so outside the norms for an omega to be worrying about. At least in this society. Takeda had only gotten to the position he held because he was a foreigner, and guests were treated well to their faces. Guests surrounded by wiry muscled alphas all ready to protect their ships Captain and boss were treated well to their faces at least.

“I know that. I just want to know he’s safe. I was business partners with his father back in the day and I can’t help but feel slightly guilty. I’m sorry for having to bring this back up again, but… no, I’m sorry. I don’t want to put more stress onto your shoulders. You’re already making such a huge impact in these pup’s lives, and that’s enough. In fact, I think I have some letters from other founds if you want them.”

“Thank you. Raven is safe. Really Takeda, I don’t know how we could’ve survived if you hadn’t helped us.”

Takeda smiled sadly, “Ahh, I forget that’s his moniker nowadays. My Lord really is growing up, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“And what of the other… uh.. Tooru?”

“He’s also fine. Doing as well as they can.”

Takeda pushed his glasses up his nose and sniffled slightly. Suga respectfully said nothing, cooled off from his momentary anger, now appreciating someone who still genuinely mourned. There weren’t many out there – everyone wanted something from omegas in high society. There was never anybody who approached without an ulterior motive. And yet, here was a man who wanted nothing from them, merely gave and told them the only thanks he could accept was them doing their best. Not achieving a goal – but doing their best. When he’d taught Suga languages, his standard was Suga’s enjoyment of it, not the fluency his father had pressed for. So, it was no wonder he was quickly fired from that position, laughing it off as a scholarly endeavour that didn’t suit him. It hadn’t stopped Suga from calling him teacher however.

And it hadn’t stopped the respect he had gained from Hinata’s father, another seafarer who had admired his tenacity and stubbornness on the ocean, not once giving up to the waves that towered ten feet above the ships, not once giving in to the pressure – continuing to glare until nature crumbled at his touch. At least, those were the stories he heard from Takeda, who claimed that the noble had a stubbornness and drive even greater than his own, who was always the sun standing at the helm of the ship after the storm broke, booming laughter revitalising men. Suga had never met Hinata’s father himself, but he could see elements and attributes of the man from the stories in Hinata.

“Well, thank you Crow.” Something in Takeda’s pants pocket buzzed and he glanced down, then up, pushed his spectacles further up his nose and laughed awkwardly, “I guess it’s time for us to be off. And –“ His face turned serious “– trust me, I’ll get this shipment to the other side safety. You don’t have to worry about the coastguard or anything.”

Suga nodded and bowed, rising to a flustered Takeda who said he really shouldn’t, but didn’t contest it that much. They walked back to the room, finding the sailors who hadn’t been assigned a job laughing with the omegas in the broken fragments of languages that they could understand. Only Nishinoya could communicate freely, his words flowing freely, mouth easily moulding to accommodate new sounds.

“I didn’t know you could speak our Mother Tongue, uh…”

“Noya sir, but call me Blue-jay. I come from the Wanderers, I was part of the Merchant sector, sir.”

“I knew your curious white bangs were familiar, it’s nice to see a fellow Wanderer. You would know my husband, Keishin Ukai, he handles transactions between the Wanderers and the rest of the state.”

Suga watched on in interest, all of the knowledge very new to him. Ennoshita and Natsu also expressed varying degrees of surprise, their faces prone to very different levels of expression. Noya’s face had lit up in recognition.

“Yes! I know him, he’s that famous Settler isn’t he? The one that had the Traveller category made just for him because he married the Wanderer? Was that you? Oh, he’s so lucky.”

Takeda laughed at his, ignoring the steady buzzing in his pocket at the young man’s direct comments. The omegas remained lost in the stream of cultural knowledge that went over their heads, while the sailors remained lost at the sheer speed of foreign words spilling from their mouths.

“I guess he is.” Eyes squinted appreciatively.

“May I ask what sector you’re a part of sir?”

“I was part of the Finance sector, but then I transitioned to the Merchants under speciality of Oceanic Voyages and International Trade. I’m now the Wanderers sole Diplomat thanks to my foolish Settler – now Traveller, husband.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry sir, I should’ve known you were a higher rank.” Nishinoya’s eyes had grown wide, and he seemed to regress to old habits as he patted his black and white clothing, “I don’t have any gifts to give you right now but –“

“No need, no need. You’re now a Corvid, not a Wanderer anymore. Though my brother –“ At this Nishinoya blushed, the red staining his cheeks and creeping down his neck – “next time I see you, it would definitely be nice to sit down and chat about home. I get so homesick when I visit the Inarizaki Kingdom for extended periods of time. Fukurodani is just so much nicer.”

Noya nodded, “Yes sir.”

No one really questioned what just happened, because frankly Suga, and the other omegas couldn’t really care at that moment. Everyone had their pasts, and when Nishinoya was ready, if he ever was, he’d offer up information about his own. When they felt he was ready, or they themselves felt it to be the right time, in a situation that was stable they might ask, but right now – all Ennoshita needed to know was that this traumatised young man who was barely older than a pup, was smiling and grinning in finding a semblance of his home in the most unlikely of places. All Natsu needed to know was that Noya smelt truly happy, and that his scent didn’t have the lingering after-taste of fear that she’d been forced to grow accustomed to over the past few day. And all Suga needed to know were the words he was presented with, and the trust that held strong in his heart.

The room fell to a comfortable semi-silence, and then Takeda became painfully aware of the constant buzzing in his pocket. He took out his phone and answered the call. Ten minutes later the omegas were being hurried out the door as the Captain and his fellow seafarers tried to make it out onto open ocean before the sky turned dark.

“Say hello to your stay-at-home alpha for me!” Suga called into the darkening sky, to the retreating deck of the ship, the Captain waving back at him. Laughter carried on the wind.

And as it did, Suga heard the first tell-tale crackling of the device in his ear.

“Boss, this is Rook. All scouting teams are on the move and coming up to their first hour of scouting. Do you want me to contact them for details?”

Standing on the wind-swept bock, briny salty air filling their lungs, and damp concrete beneath their feet, staring out into pale purple sky, Suga lifted his hand to his ear and pressed, “Copy that Rook. Please do so immediately.”

Tonight, would be a long night – for all of them.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi were the first to leave. It took them all of five minutes after Hinata’s exclamation to gather the appropriate materials and head to the door in oddly synchronised steps, in absolute silence. The bespectacled man fell in step behind Tadashi, both breathing sort of heavily as they walked with their respective wounds. The tap-tap-tap of his crutch covered for the lack of words between them. But it didn’t take away the tension in the air.

They’d strapped up for a scouting mission appropriately, that is, absolutely covered in weapons. Whilst not on a sniping mission, Tadashi still had his gun hidden in a guitar-shaped case, slung over his shoulder, and another handgun hidden in the interior pocket of the trench coat he had put on over his black slacks and black collared shirt. Unlike the clothes he’d covered, the trench coat was a soft muted grey-brown, and collared with a softer lighter brown fur that covered his unmarked neck. It was the first spot of colour all of the alphas had seen on the omegas, and though they’d stared, Hinata had quickly sniggered and asked if they were really so surprised. Daichi and Iwaizumi had had the tack to look away, but Kageyama had risen to the bait and said, “Of course dumbass, we’ve only seen you guys were black and white so far.”

To the alpha’s surprise and Tadashi’s resignation (because he knew how much Hinata hated losing, and he know how much Hinata hated any alpha winning), the small orange haired man had immediately bit back with a curt and surprisingly witty response that only set the tall dark-haired man off onto another quip and taunt – whether in self-defence or a premeditated jab at the omega, Tadashi couldn’t tell. But he caught Hinata’s smirk, so he rested assured that intervention was not needed, not to save Hinata’s ass at least. He knew how to handle himself, and he knew how to wriggle his way out of any sticky situation. Tadashi wished he had Hinata’s guts to put himself in these maybe-compromising situations of his free will.

Officer Tsukkishima hadn’t said anything. And Tadashi didn’t question it, but he paid it great attention and detail. Suga had told them all to observe the alphas, and in this scouting mission, he’d be scouting the tall-blond haired man that now hobbled behind him, as well as the surrounding areas of the Royal Suite. It was weird to him, because he didn’t think that he’d ever be seeing the Officer again – because his victims rarely made it out alive, and if instructed to let them do so, rarely turned around and expressed hardened curiosity.

Because that’s what the gaze was, wasn’t it?

A piercing gaze that seemed to rip right through him, calculating and analysing everything he did. Blame it on his heightened senses, but he just… Tadashi just hated it so much. The gaze. The feeling that he was a bug pinned for dissection, or an ant frying under a pup’s magnifying glass. Though, he also hated the idea of the fucking mission itself. Being alone with an alpha. Truly alone. That hadn’t happened in a very long time. A very long time.

But then again, he couldn’t go against Suga. Nor did he want to. He trusted his Boss, and their pack leader, and he had Rook on the line so if anything were to come up…

… Yeah. He could do this.

Own your past, own it. It felt different when he didn’t have the weight of Oikawa’s reassuring hands on his shoulders, and his daring gleam in his eyes challenging Tadashi’s own. He sighed and felt his back protest, then felt the growing protest in his lower abdomen where the wound stung, as heat flushed his face. They’d just stepped out of the building. He’d just mentally reassured himself. He’d just – he’d tried, but it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t help the scent of fear that leaked from him, the smoked fish turning rotten, rancid and heavy, the honey losing its nuanced sweetness to fester and crystallize turning stale in the air. It was fear and anxiety and a deep-seeded belief that without a gun in his hand, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to the alpha behind him, and the alpha would be able to do anything to him. As it had always been, he itched for his rifle. For the known safety. A known escape.

His stomach rolled over, flipping and tumbling like a stuntman at the markets he now avoided. And anything he was going to say was lost to a throat that dried and left chapped lips in its wake. His teeth sought his lip. Hand white grip around the guitar case, the other going to clutch his wounded side. The sidewalk tipped in his vision and black spots invaded it for a brief second before leaving, and Tadashi brushed off the occurrence, knowing full well what a hindrance it would be if he let his panic get the better of him. Knowing full well what a disappointment he’d be to Suga. Knowing full well that his mind was untrustworthy and his intrusive thoughts were a group of nobodies sitting around a campfire singing lullabies to his weary soul. No, he wouldn’t be a hindrance, nor a disappointment to his family – he wouldn’t be a burden (he mentally scolded the squatters that had set up camp in his mind), he was strong, and he could get through this and he wanted to do this. He wanted to do this. It was good. Everything was okay – he could own his past. Come on Tadashi, mindset. Mind over matter. Mind over matter. Own your past. You want to do this. Everything is, was and will be okay. Mind over matter.

This wasn’t about him, this mission wasn’t Suga being mean. It was to accomplish a goal. It was for information. What more motivation did he need than pride? He felt his stomach settle slightly, the goosebumps that had sneaked up his arms lessen their grips, and reassured himself.

Being alone with an alpha would be okay. He would be okay. He had a gun in the interior of his trench coat, the Officer was injured. Tadashi couldn’t run, but he could shoot. It would take less than five seconds to pull it out. By the time the alpha could even think to react the man would be dead. Through the heart. Safety off, two seconds. Pull the trigger, no time at all. Dead. And he’d be safe.

He had an escape plan.

He owned his past, controlled his future. He wouldn’t get hurt again.

Tadashi took a deep shuddering breath and turned to face the other man. He had this. He could do this. Consciously reeling in his scent – now aware of the man’s scrunched up nose and displeased look, he wet his lips nervously. They both stood still on the sidewalk, having just left the gym’s interior, late afternoon sun painting the sky in ever-darkening shades of blue, but still far from the transition to the purple of sunset. Tsukkishima’s glasses glinted slightly in the rays of sunlight, wearing an impassive face – carefully neutral.

“Um..” Shit. His hand shifted from his wound to the pocket where his gun was kept, and once touching the now warm metal he could feel the tension lessen in his shoulders – less than four seconds now. Eyes followed the move, “S..so.” Tadashi licked his lips again and bit the lower one. Shit, shit, shit this was harder than he thought, “With this… uh… scouting mission…”

Tsukki merely looked at him, with a gaze that Tadashi couldn’t pin down for the life of him. To the alpha, these actions weren’t lining up with the facts at all. An omega, charged for the murder of his own parents, who was clearly clutching a gun underneath the folds of his trench coat, could barely meet his gaze. And he was alone. The omega wasn’t even outnumbered. Tsukkishima could be shot dead at any moment, by a man who clearly had little to no mercy.

Why, just why was this all so confusing? Why didn’t the facts line up? They were supposed to, so there must be pieces to the puzzle that the report didn’t catch, that he couldn’t comprehend here on the man’s face, that would make sense of the picture he was seeing. What had happened? Why was this confusing? And why was he so fascinated by the omega before him?

Tsukki shook his head, turning his attention back to the present, observing the man quietly, before saying, “What is it.”

It wasn’t even a question, and he tried to say it in the most monotonous voice he could muster, so as not to provoke or scare the obviously timid man in front of him, whose grip on the guitar case looked positively painful at this point. But yet, it only tightened and his knuckles only whitened further at the statement. Why? At what point in the omega’s life did he become so frightened of alphas? Tsukkishima internally hissed.  

Tadashi, unaware of the conflict in the Officer, was only aware of the conflict in himself. He gulped, and wet his lips again, flicking his eyes up to meet the stony gaze only to flick back down. He cleared his throat, “Well… um… we have no car to take… so if you’re okay.. with um.”

Fuck. The lump in his throat only grew larger. Just get it out. Just say it. You can do this. Tadashi glanced up at the man again, remembering the way he’d sneered at his darker-haired colleague in the boxing ring. He felt the metal of the gun against his fingertips, took a deep breath, met the brown eyes of the other, and mustered a smirk to his face, “Do… do you wanna take the car Officer –“ He nearly choked on the word Officer, unable to stop the momentary flash of bad memories that rose to the forefront of his mind , but he continued on anyway, knowing Suga would be proud of the steps he was taking – “Kageyama brought?”

For the first time, the stony face – façade perhaps – broke, and the alpha smirked, a sense of life returning to his voice, “Take a chance to piss off the King even more? You read my mind… Magpie.”

Tadashi flinched slightly at the mention of ‘King’, but he felt a small smile overcome his worries and worm its way onto his face. The alpha must’ve noticed, because the man sent a small smile of reassurance back as they slipped into the car that still had the keys in the ignition.

The omega took the wheel.

The alpha took the passenger seat, and threw his crutches in the back, groaning as his shoulder hit the firm fabric and his legs jostled. Tsukkishima was thankful all the shots had happened down his right side, and that he still had control of his left to manoeuvre his way through life. But as the car pulled somewhat jerkily out – the omega’s face flushing slightly as he struggled to shift gears initially – and the scent of smoked fish, slightly rancid (it was better than the pure fear before, but still on edge), and of honey, a few days too sweet, hit his nose again he was once again transported back to that night. The night he got shot. And again, his head reeled at the thoughts and possibilities of why, and what and how the omega beside him had come to this way of life.

It was odd. Because there – Tadashi spun the wheel, and the car turned abruptly, and Tsukkishima let out an unwilling hiss of pain as the car shuddered and his body was thrown to the side.

“Oh shit,” Words flew out of Tadashi’s mouth, before his worries had time to chase him and shut him up. The squatters in his mind didn’t even have time to strum their frantic melodies, “Sorry, I should’ve realised. Fuck.”

It was odd. Because as Tsukkishima righted himself in his seat, wincing with each movement, and muscling through it all, his previous train of thought completely lost down the street they just turned off, he didn’t think those sorts of words should come out of the omega’s mouth. And not because he was an omega. Because once again, the facts did not line up with the face, innocent eyes wide with fear and shock.

“It’s okay.” His left hand pinched his left side discretely as he tried to administer a small amount of pain that would take away from the burning of his entire right side. His entire right leg was screaming at him, the feeling of thousands of pins radiating out from his bullet wound – now stitched, but still as painful. Tsukkishima could feel the sweat starting to bead around the nape of his neck, where his hairline was. He let out a forced chuckle, something he would never think of doing in front of his colleagues – but today was a day full of surprises, so why the fuck not, “Besides, you shouldn’t be saying sorry. Aren’t you the one who shot me?”

“Well,” Tadashi had to try and calm his pounding heart. The moment he’d heard the hiss, he’d nearly jumped right out of his seat, initial response to run as far as he could from the alpha. He was surprised enough that the alpha hadn’t tried to jump him out of anger, but it could happen at any moment, so he straightened in his seat. It took a few moments for him to get rid of the sensation of his heart in his ears, and for him to push the words that were stuck at the back of his throat to the tip of his tongue, “Yes. But I’m also saying sorry to you as well… for… you know… that.”

“That?” The alpha echoed, smirking, old habits dying very hard, as he tried and failed to stop the taunt from coming out into open air. What he didn’t expect was the blush that spread across the omega’s cheeks, and how cute he looked (what the fuck Tsukkishima, why the fuck are you thinking of that, get it together), and the discordance between the words the omega spoke next.

“Ya know,” Tadashi tripped over his words, cheeks aflame in embarrassment and the taunt in the alpha’s voice, “Shooting you. I could’ve shot in areas that would cause less pain but the same amount of blood loss.” He paused for a moment, and for a second Tsukkishima wondered if he could hear the cogs turning in his brain, but then continued and the alpha breathed a nearly audible sigh of relief. The omega, still blushing, whispered, “My targets don’t normally make it out alive.”

And that halted all conversation for the next three minutes, as Tsukkishima cursed his normally fast processing speed for slowing to a snail’s pace at the information. Nothing matched up. Nothing. The scent did. The words did. The fear didn’t. The face didn’t. The trembling hands and the anxious gaze didn’t.

There was a secret this man was hiding, a possibly dangerous, a possibly case-opening, secret that could propel the unit years ahead in terms of information. But it might also condemn the man to the law, and for some reason, in the sick feeling that was manifesting in Tsukkishima’s gut, the alpha didn’t want to see the omega get the death sentence, or sent to prison, or hurt in any way. All he wanted to know was why, how. That was all he ever cared for – that’s why he took a course in computer information systems and taught himself how to hack, that’s why he built a career around research and knowledge and how knowledge is power and power is knowledge and to climb the ranks of society, the more you know the better off you are.

So Tsukkishima, in all his experience and background and knowledge, did the only thing he could think of. Told it like it was.

“I’ve seen your police file. We know who you are.”

Tadashi stiffened in his seat, if that was possible, but then relaxed, accepting his fate. The tension seemed to leak from him, but he still went from two hands on the steering wheel to one, the free one becoming not so free as it rested on the grip of the gun. His reassurance. His safety. The only thing that stopped the lump in his throat from rising and the only thing that held the squatters in his mind a gun-point and told them to be quiet. Not an anxious thrum was heard from the squatters, but his heart still increased the tempo.

“Oh… I’m aware of that.” He swallowed, eyes flicking from the road to gaze at the profile of the alpha’s face, taking in the way the jaw clenched and face shifted – the alpha obviously choosing his words carefully. The tension couldn’t be cut by a knife, too thick and dense in both their lungs and surrounding air, “What are the police going to do about it?”

Gods, he hated the way his voice trembled.

“I’m not sure. We’re still gathering information. Our purpose is not your gang but the OTCS – the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate.” Explaining shortly, clarifying quickly, Tsukkishima tried not to spill more than he could, but he felt the need to justify their actions nonetheless.

If only you knew we were part of that syndicate, Tadashi couldn’t help but think. It was true the Corvid’s were part of it, they had established dominance early on in the East Side, cleaning up small-time gangs and placing clear boundaries. Yet also at a constant war with those who didn’t treat the omegas with the ounces of humanity they deserved, for the omega’s sake said had Suga a few weeks after he’d joined. He still remembered the man’s embrace, and his quiet words – ‘Omega’s have to stick together in an alphan society. Omegas protect omegas right? We take that one step further. The Corvids make sure those alphas learn their lesson, and their place.’. Tadashi had never seen any other groups in the syndicate, not the heads, though he knew that prior to now they were at an uneasy standstill. Opposing means, opposing ends yet same side of the law. But ever since Natsu was kidnapped by a West Side gang – the omega guessed that they’d now declared war on the Eagles, on Hiroshi and the rut-houses amalgamation, and whatever other parts of the syndicate that Suga kept an eye on secretly.

“I see.” He managed to force out amid his swirling thoughts, taking another turn in the road and feeling the adrenalin trickle down his limbs again as the alpha winced and flinched in pain. Morbid curiosity took over him, and for a few seconds he wanted to ask how much exactly they knew, but the minute he opened his mouth he realised that the alpha was now back to staring at him with that hardened curiosity he hated. He shut his mouth immediately, but returned two hands to the wheel. It’s still less than five seconds Tadashi, if he wants to know more he won’t kill you. Anything’s better than death, anything’s better than that place. Mind over matter.

Tsukkishima watched the omega, watched the hand return to the wheel, return to the white grip and internally sighed. Looks like he wouldn’t become another target board for the omega anytime soon, a bullet ridden body to marvel at on the practice field. The thought brought another to his mind and then another and then another, until he was spiralling and could only think of one thing – where had the Magpie gotten his training? How had he learned to shoot?

“So.. Magpie.” The word sounded odd on the tongue, especially now that he had read the man’s file and knew it to be Tadashi. He coughed slightly and the omega glanced at him in slight worry. It shocked him – how much empathy could he have? Tadashi meanwhile, had glanced at him when the words had first left his mouth, and upon hearing the cough had worried that blood might spill over the man’s lips and reveal some sort of internal injury that he had caused. At least you could tell with a bullet wound what was wrong, internal injuries were a killer no one saw coming, “I’m curious.”

“Aren’t we all.” It was a reflex. Something he’d heard Oikawa say again and again, before asking for a favour, or asking for a ‘in’ into a conversation of Corvids or Founds. Tadashi didn’t even realise his slip up until it was too late, but by then the alpha was chuckling and he felt his cheeks flushing once again. Damnit, what was it about this alpha and putting him at ease? His carefully maintained guard, that he’d polished and perfected over many years was crumbling at one laugh.

Tsukkishima couldn’t help but laugh, not when the tone had sounded so bored, the quip rivalling one of his own, “I’m curious about how you learned to snipe so well. Because I know for a fact that omegas aren’t allowed in the military, yet you rival the best.”

He didn’t say our best, Tadashi noted, trying to do what Suga had told them the very first day and ‘scout’ the alphas. But the thought slipped by as he bit his lip at what he knew to be a very much unintentional compliment, cursing the way he could feel heat in in his cheeks and his heart in his ears for a very different reason from anxiety. Well, there was some anxiety as he considered how to answer the question.

“I… practice?”

Tsukkishima looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, sarcasm lacing his normally monotonous drawl, “Oh yes I’m sure like five years can be summed up in one word.”

“Sorry Tsukki!” He was flustered, it just slipped out.

It was the alphas turn to blush, the nickname a common one for him – but he’d never heard it out of anyone’s mouth other than his alphan colleagues, which fortunately for all of them did not pique his interest in that way whatsoever. He’d never thought it would sound so different coming from an omega (having never cared for the secondary genders, seeing them as they were – secondary to the rest of life), and could not help the way his voice lifted slightly in pitch, “Shut up.”

He coughed again and tried to rectify the awkward stink that had settled in the air between them. The back of his neck burned slightly, “Can you tell me the real reason why you can snipe so well?”

Silence.

Then Tadashi pulled up to the curb, sitting snugly between taxis in the richest end of town. He’d barely paid attention to the road on the way over so it was frankly a miracle they got here alive. They were East Side uptown – the richest, bay-side suburb, bordering on the Central City-Centre, then quickly derailed into fish markets, cultural and tourist attractions on the other more ‘central’ side, still by the bay. The sky was blinking slowly as clouds traversed it, mild grey revealing glimpses of darkening blue every now and then, the grey lighter than the sky itself.

He looked at the time on the dashboard of the car and then at the Officer beside him, choosing finally to answer the question instead of ignoring it all together – which was his Plan A until he decided to be slightly courteous, “I can’t. We’re on a mission Officer, and I don’t want to ruin it by bringing up memories that shouldn’t be brought up.”

It was the most forward the omega had been with his emotions thus far, his scent betraying the quiet melancholy that rested in his heart – but also the sincerity behind his words. For the first time as well, Tsukkishima felt with startling finality that he shouldn’t push the subject – only then realising that Tadashi’s hand had disappeared back inside his trench coat and the omega was breathing slightly heavily – so he didn’t. He didn’t push the subject, just nodded once and opened the car door.

The air outside was cool, but by after twenty minutes of walking, they’d worked up quite a sweat underneath their layers, and Tsukkishima was struggling with his crutch.

“We can stop if you want.” Tadashi was finding easier and easier to talk to him, the squatters in his mind placid and only mumbling amongst themselves. Why did he stop. Maybe he’s sick of you. You’re not supposed to be here. Are you seriously talking? He’s going to hit you. You’re a burden. You’re a hindrance. You’re a sick, sick child who knows nothing better than to do what you’re told. You’ll never be able to think for yourself. He brushed off those comments that were determined to stick and focused his eyes on behind him on the tall blond-haired alphas that was panting. His glasses caught the light and reflected them, and Tadashi wondered what his eyes looked like behind them. He forced himself to wonder, because the mumbling was growing to a chant, and he hated the rhythm and the power his thoughts had over him. Own your past Tadashi. Own it. Own these thoughts.

“I’m okay.” The voice snapped him out of his spiralling intrusive thoughts and his desperate bids to stop them. Tsukkishima was leaning heavily on his crutch, even if it meant sending pains through his shoulder. Breath was just not coming fast enough to the man, “The Royal Suite is another block from here isn’t it?”

Tadashi nodded, “On the cusp of the City-Centre. I think…” He paused, and wondered if he should say it. He didn’t want to get too comfortable with the man at all, but upon seeing the pain, he felt in his heart that he shouldn’t hold back, “I think there’s a café across the street and a few doors down where we could…”

He trailed off and looked questioningly to the alpha, who had now caught up with him. They fell in step together, Tadashi slowing his pace to keep up with the hobbles, silently thankful as his back was beginning to ache quite badly. It stung now, but not as much as he focused on the alpha and the crowds around him – trying to avoid touching anyone in the rush hour traffic. They didn’t call it the City Centre for no reason, business alphas and betas walking every which way, only a few recognisable omegas doing so – dressed in feminine clothing and hanging onto the arms of their alphas. Very few chose to be out and about at this time, even though it was still daylight, even though this was the boundaries of the Corvid’s territory, it was just ingrained. In uptown areas, omegas were treated as trophy wives, or simply as trophies, while in downtown areas, in the slums, omegas were simply burdens, hindrances, mistakes, tools to be used and then disposed of. Tadashi clenched his fist at his side and continued to walk. The alpha was silent by his side, Tsukki’s eyes flicking from the people in front of them to the omega next to him every now and then, not missing the tension that had suddenly grown in the omega the minute they’d passed a business alpha and her positively sparkling omega dressed in all matter of flamboyant, disgusting attire. Curious. Had Tadashi been brought up in a rich household? Was that why he showed distaste for it now? Was that how he’d learned to snipe? Interesting, and unbeknownst to the alpha, very, very wrong.

They arrived at the café just in time for Tsukki to collapse into a seat and for Tadashi to melt into another, both clutching at respective wounds. In their moment of pain, they shared a smile, then broke it as soon as both of them returned to reality and remembered just the purpose they had come for and exactly who the other was. On the outside, they merely looked like another couple branching outside their budget range to express their love for another, and if there were no other boundaries in place, they might just have been that. But they weren’t –  

“All rooftops in the surrounding area.” Tsukkishima said immediately after he’d recovered his breath, no longer able to hear his pants any longer. His eyes went from the sky back to the omega who sat opposite from him. In the softening light and the warm glow of the café (they were sitting just by the window), the omega looked young and innocent, soft black hair that was tinted green ever so slightly, looking even softer – which he hadn’t thought was possible. The eyes that reflected the fair lights strung up around their booth, shone, hazel ringed with a darker green around the outside of his iris. And his lips curved ever so slightly around the straw of the milkshake he’d barely been able to afford. It seems raiding Kageyama’s car for loose change proved useful. He looked away before Tadashi could catch him staring – no, analysing. He was analysing.

“I agree.” Tadashi hummed, feeling calm and collected, mentally picking out the spot he’d personally use. A tall building three blocks away in the City Centre, “Though to preserve anonymity if they were using a rooftop, they’d probably go to an apartment building. Because that has the height they need, and people are constantly coming and going.”

“What about security cameras?” Tsukkishima as always, was quick to pick out the flaws.

“You don’t think other buildings don’t have them?” Tadashi didn’t look away from the window, still looking at the building three blocks away, trying to pick out the office space he’d rent, set up and use. How he’d ask Kenma to block the cameras and jam the door. How the space was perfect, if not too perfect. He missed how Tsukkishima was observing him, too caught up in his job and in his concentrated analysis of the surrounding buildings to be aware of his immediate surroundings. He didn’t catch how the alpha stared at him with a softer look, because despite being an enigma to the man sitting across from him, the omega’s focused, determined state looked quite beautiful and was another piece to the alpha’s mental puzzle that actually made sense. What frightened the alpha was what a beautiful puzzle it was turning out to be. Tadashi continued, unhindered by the same thoughts as the alpha, “You can easily hide in an apartment building, pose as a guest and get lost in the records with how many people are going in and out.”

“True. What range would you be thinking?” Tsukkishima prodded the omega gently with his words, wondering how much more information he could glean from the answer.

“Four blocks,” Immediate answer, and for once, no hesitation, “Though given the level of skill of the gunners I’ve seen three blocks far side. But that’s just in the Royal Suite. What about entering and exiting?” Tadashi turned the question on its head and looked from the roads and sky and buildings to the alpha’s face, surprised to see eyes on him. Tsukkishima leaned back slightly in his chair, then glanced out the window. He hadn’t expected the omega to pick up on the question so soon, and his answer itself hadn’t said much – but the tone, and the cadence spoke volumes. He had spoken with a certainty, and with a rhythm that suggested no fucking around, an answer that had been spoken many times before and had been corrected and improved upon each time, eyes that had been not externally trained but internally willed to pinpoint spots in the surroundings that could be possible shooting positions.

“That’s a possibility, and the crowds on the road would be immense with the coming and goings of the Prince and his entourage. So, anyone could attempt without risking their face too much. Though they’d need to be careful.”

Tadashi inclined his head, “Blind spots though? For the guards that is.”

“They’d have their eyes on the crowds and on the rooftops. The guards would be near the Prince, but he’d also have some military forces that would watch the roofs.” Tsukkishima looked back at the omega, Magpie, Tadashi – the person who killed many and nearly killed him, catching his gaze as he lifted the straw to his lips again. The alpha shook his head slightly, what was he missing? He still couldn’t understand how this man was the man on the file, “So given that, I can’t help but wonder Magpie, where would you shoot from?”

“I… wait.” Tadashi fixed him with a soft glare, another expression Tsukkishima hadn’t seen before on the man’s face, then that wilted at the alpha’s steady gaze back and became slightly perplexed, “Are you trying to make me give up my good spot?”

“So, you’ve chosen a spot?”

Ah shit. I’m trapped. Now he had no choice but to reveal his perfect spot for sniping down the Prince, even though Suga would never allow it in the first place. He couldn’t help it, just as he couldn’t help searching for an escape route everywhere he went (the café had the main front door, the door that went from the back of the kitchens to the alley behind it, the windows if he was really desperate, or he could kill every one of them in here and leave on his own), and he couldn’t help the way his fingers itched to be around the grip of a gun at any given moment. Just like he couldn’t help the squatters in his mind that sung sweet intrusive lullabies to his tired soul.

“Well, no, technically because it won’t happen,” Curse him for tripping over his words again, regressing to the moments before they’d gotten in the car, “But, I mean yes. Yeah, I have.”

Tsukkishima raised an eyebrow, “So is this going to be the conversation in the car where you tell me you actually can’t tell me?”

Tadashi shook his head fervently, then scoffed slightly, “No. Just wouldn’t want a cocky bastard finding out that bit of information.” Which was yet another change to the omega’s demeanour Tsukkishima wasn’t expecting, and had him somewhat shocked at the crassness. The omega seemed to notice, “Not that I’m saying you’re the –“ He stopped abruptly, shook his head, probably shaking the apology that Tsukkishima could see budding on his lips, and put on hand into his trench coat. It seemed to give the omega sense of safety. The alpha wondered why, “Forget it. What do you want to know?”

The omega seemed to be bracing himself for the worst, and while blunt and not afraid of pissing people off Tsukkishima couldn’t help but sense hints of the warzone of the omega’s mind and didn’t want to add further chaos to it. But at the same time, he wanted to know and he couldn’t stop the urge inside of him to find out more, to uncover the truth and dig for more information. Ignoring the pains in his right side, he leaned forward and stared at Tadashi, pinning him with a stare full of curiosity, “How did you learn to snipe so well?”

It took a brief second, for Tadashi to consider, then a few moments for him to mull over his words. His hands had started to shake and knowing he was in a public place and couldn’t get the gun out and start disassembling it and reassembling it out of nervous habit, settled instead for pulling at the skin around his nails, trying to calm his trembling hands. He had brought this upon himself, it was his fault for asking. Tadashi glanced up and stared into the eyes behind the glasses, that now clear from reflections, turned out to be a soft brown that reminded him of the library shelves he used to run his hands along after being – his stomach rolled and he forced the memories back to the black box in the mind where they lived, locking them up and hiding the key.

“I’m self-taught.” He said at first, picking at his hands. He’d dropped his eyes back down to his lap, said the words in the softest whispers, trying to avoid the other. Tsukki, sensing it was a difficult topic for the man leaned back slightly but didn’t say anything. Sometime silence was the biggest prompt you could give. And right now, it was, “I first picked up a gun when I was seven.”

That was different number to the police report. Those killings must’ve happened once he was experienced. How? Tsukkishima kept the thoughts to himself.

Tadashi took a shuddering breath, in the silence the squatters in his mind restlessly searching for the key he threw away. Hindrance. Disgrace. Tool. You know it. You’re useless. His hands shook even harder, and his scent began to leak slowly, though he tried his best to keep it in. The café, already filled with so many scents of coffee and sugar and muffins and something faint but rich from the alpha sitting across from him was tinctured with his souring scent, “I stole it from the… people who were um… my carers I suppose. Got in massive shit for it,” He gave a short laugh that didn’t reach his eyes or even sound like a laugh, more like something pitiful that was dying. His eyes unfocused as he talked, seeing something very different to the café, “Didn’t do that again. I was quite scared at first, but who wouldn’t be… no. Yeah. I uh, did it again though, before my parents uh.. took me back. Someone taught me how to use a handgun, very briefly.”

Tadashi remembered the hands normally wrapped in doctor’s gloves around his own small hands, their skin roughened with callouses and scars, showing him how to pull the trigger. He remembered their voice, urging him to run home to his parents, to get out while he still could because he had gotten too old to feed and they’d dispose of him soon.

“Yamaguchi?”

The omega jumped from his memories, heart in his head and his throat and his whole body as the adrenalin flushed it all. His eyes refocused immediately on the alpha in front of him, who looked somewhat concerned and quite shocked at his own apparent slip up. Tadashi choked on his words again, “You… you! Oh, fuck, shit, yeah – I forgot, the police report. Of course, you’d know my name.”

“You zoned out for a while.” The alpha’s faced moved back to mildly neutral, though Tadashi could still see the gleam of curiosity in his eyes, “Please, by all means, continue.”

This time, his hands trembled less when he started, but he still couldn’t meet the alphas eyes. He’d get in so much shit from Suga about this, but the Officers already had the report, he’d already be going to jail when this operation was over if he didn’t run. He at least wanted the opportunity to explain himself, to clear his chest of some things. And for some reason he felt as if this alpha was somewhat trustworthy. He cleared his throat, picking at the skin around his fingernails, curling his toes in his shoes, “When my parents took me back I practiced a lot when they were asleep, disassembling, assembling, pretend to shoot, practiced the stance. They didn’t know I had the gun… I still have it actually, but I’ve never used it. My father had a sniper rifle, because debt and loan sharks and people were forcing him to do shit he didn’t want to do, so instead of being a gopher he rose in their ranks.”

This sort of story was familiar for Tsukkishima, his private research and study, even research with the cops bringing him across a lot of old cases like this. Though none like this, that ended in two people dead and their son clutching a sniper rifle to his chest and threatening any alpha that came near, only to disappear with a cloaked silver-haired omega who masked his escape behind a smokescreen. Who now he supposed was actually Crow-san.

“But he still wasn’t making money, and because I was an omega I was useless, and –“ Tadashi stopped, “I’m telling you too much. Fuck. Crow is going… shit…”

“So, that made you kill them?” Now was as good as a time than ever and Tsukkishima was still fucking confused.

“What?” This time the glare Tadashi fixed him with didn’t melt, didn’t wither. All of a sudden, the omega’s hand leapt inside his trench coat and Tsukkishima understood Asahi and Kyoutani’s words when they’d told him that that Magpie omega was not to be messed with, because he was fucking dangerous, and finally Tsukki could see it on his face. The determination, the anger, the passion. And all the alpha wanted to know was more. More about everything. Not even for the case, but for the person in front of him – secondary gender aside – he just wanted to know everything. Tadashi meanwhile glanced around the store, leaned forward without so much as a thought towards his groaning back, and hissed, “What made me kill them, are you fucking serious?”

He sounded incredulous. Tadashi scoffed and fell back into his chair, looking absolutely annoyed. “What wouldn’t? For fuck’s sake. You asked, I answered – take what you can fucking get, otherwise you’re going to get a bullet in your head. I didn’t suffer through years of physical, mental and psychological abuse to be talked down to like that. My parents didn’t give a shit about me, ever since I presented as an omega they viewed me as an object that they could get money with. How long would it take you to snap in a pressure cooker like that? You wouldn’t fucking know because all alphas are valued and loved and actually fucking wanted in their –“ He could feel the tears coming to his eyes, so he stopped talking and tried to blink them back. Tsukkishima opened his mouth to try and do anything to rectify the situation, to apologise for the way he approached the topic but Tadashi held up a hand and shook his head, taking the other one from his trench coat pocket and tapping the ear piece he had on.

In a completely neutral tone, a one-eighty from his outburst, he addressed Tsukkishima while looking out the window, “It’s been over an hour, we need to check in.”

Shit. The alpha nodded, knowing that he’d made one of the biggest fucking mistakes of his life – bigger than choosing that rooftop on that night, and lifted his hand to his ear, pressing it on.

“Rook-san this is Magpie, do you copy?”

“Copy Magpie. What’s your report?” The voice that spoke was eerily familiar, in a way that certain places beget déjà vu, and sent shivers up the alpha’s spine. He glanced at Tadashi, who seem unperturbed by the sounds in his ear, the crackling and the clarity. It was the norm for the omega he supposed, but Tsukkishima was shocked by it. Police comms were nothing like this, a lot lower tech. Did Rook-san create it? More importantly, why did the voice sound so familiar?

“Royal suite, scouted. Minimal blind spots, the crowds will be a problem in identifying any attackers on the Prince while entering and exiting. Rooftop surveillance also necessary. Prime location for sniping is the courthouse in the City Centre, fifth floor.”

Tsukkishima’s eyes snapped to his, the last sentence a piece of information that omega had opted out of sharing – much like the rest of his story, no thanks to the alpha’s mistake.

“No immediate risks, though if scent weapons are a possibility, vents and the like may need to be check regularly as well as the AC control for the hotel.”

Again, another snippet of information the omega had opted out of telling. How many more truths had the omega hidden behind that innocent façade?  

“Ta, thanks Magpie. Have you heard from Raven or Officer Kageyama yet? They’re the only ones I haven’t talked to yet.”

Too familiar. The voice as too familiar and the name was on the tip of his tongue just who –

“No, for all I know they’re still insulting each other back at the Gym.”

“Tch.”

Oh. Shit.

There was no way. It couldn’t be. Yet – fuck.

“Kenma-san?” The word was whispered, by the two on the line heard it anyway, and Tadashi’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and his chair clattered as he stood. Tsukkishima barely noticed, “The son of the Minister of Justice.. Kenma.. you’re Rook?”

Everything stopped. The people around them disappeared as Tsukkishima and Tadashi locked eyes for the first time. Tadashi’s hand fell from his ear but he still heard the crackling line and the words ringing in his head. Exposed. Exposed. They’d been exposed. They knew who they were and – Tsukkishima’s eyes were wider than his at the discovery – they were exposed, they were fucked.

Silence had fallen between the three, tension no one wanted to break for fear of reality crashing in. And then two words, echoed in their ears, Kenma’s controlled voice breaking and crackling as the line did – “Tadashi, RUN.”

And the omega did.

Back screaming in pain, already standing, guitar case already slung over one shoulder, he went to move past the alpha. Tsukki flung out his right arm to stop him – biting his lip at the pain that it caused but unable to stop himself from trying to stop that man, only to have Tadashi’s frantic eyes narrow in on his shoulder, shaking fingers move with such precision that Tsukki wasn’t sure if they were shaking any longer, to jab at his bullet wound, withdrawing them nearly as soon as he’d buried them into the flesh. He fled as the man shouted in pain, and Tadashi in all his shyness, cowering at the looks people sent him as ran from the man, half-heartedly shouted “Rapist!” as he did so. He looked back as he exited the café, just in time to see a beta woman slapping the officer in his stead. He would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so winded, or so afraid.

The car was only a few blocks away.

But it felt like miles.

With every step he took, he felt like the blond-haired alpha could’ve taken twenty. He could feel the breath down his neck, yet when he turned there was no one. Eyes on his back, but no one took notice. Brushing past people feeling handbags snagging him, elbows jabbing his back – he hissed in pain and a little bit more as tears began to spill from his eyes. The car. Home. Home. Suga. He needed his family. He needed air to get inside his lungs and the oxygen to traverse his body so he could get home and see his family. His true real family.

When he slid in the car, it was with shaking hands that he put the keys in the ignition, so thankful that he’d pocketed them instead of giving them to the alpha. It took him two of three goes but he did it, and once he turned them the car started instantly and with a death grip on the wheel he pulled out jerkily onto the street. Home. That’s where he was going. Except home might not be safe anymore.

He pressed on his ear piece.

The crackling erupted, as for the first time he heard the omega on the other side of the line frantic in his efforts. Kenma sounded breathless, “Magpie, I’m coming to you guys. It’s not safe for me here anymore. I have to get out before the rest of them find out.”

“I trust you Rook. I really do, I don’t care if you’re the son of the Justice Minister. You’re my family and I need –“ Tadashi had tears running down his face, and hitches presents in his breath. He could hear the way Kenma stalled in his efforts – whatever they might be on the other end, “I’m so, so sorry. Please – I fucked up, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m –”

“We’ll be fine Magpie.” Lip-service, just like the lip-service they served other grieving, traumatised omegas, this time it was for them. Kenma’s voice was quiet and it wavered, and even across the city, Tadashi knew that the omega didn’t truly believe his own words, “It was bound to happen.”

“Connect me to Crow. He needs to know what happened. We’re fucked.”

Back at the café, cheek red from the harsh slap and smarting from the harsher talking-to he had got, Tsukkishima glared at himself in the shitty bathroom mirror. His head was reeling. Dumbstruck. Mind pounding and straining under the efforts to think about what he’d just discovered. Son of the Justice Minister? Kenma, the best hacker, the city had ever seen was working with a petty five-man gang, whose origins were clouded with mystery. It all made sense now – why they’d struggled finding out anything. Kenma had been protecting them. Their connections ran deep within the system, like rotting roots of a seemingly healthy tree.

This gang might be more dangerous than they thought, might be bigger than they thought, might be more trouble than it was worth. And yet, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that somehow this Corvid gang was at the centre of all their issues. How they might’ve just stumbled across the answer to a lot of problems. But also… the fire that would light up a whole lot more. What had Daichi fucking gotten himself into? They’d opened Pandora’s box, and now here he was –ridden with bullet holes, cheek red and smarting, head pounding, and mind unable to shake the image of Tadashi’s glare, nor his soft absentminded smile as he stared out of the window – reaping the fucking consequences.

•••

Kageyama and Hinata were the last to leave – which was difficult as they’d been left without a car. The Officer, a gun strapped to his left hip and a knife in its sheath on his right, coated and ready to go, had immediately kicked the curb and growled out a series of curse words directed at Tsukkishima. Growling and snarling about his shitty personality, and how he had a stick stuck up his arse just because he cracked a case of trafficking once by looking at decade old records. Hinata had laughed at the former comments and ignored the latter, but had pushed back that it was more likely to be Magpie’s idea, knowing just how much of a little shit the man could be. He could just see the glint in his eyes and the smirk on the man’s face – a quiet little mischief maker whose hands had a taught precision and innate sneakiness that only Ennoshita could match in the first category and Oikawa in the second.

“I’ll get us a car.” He said slowly, wondering if he should give away the position of the Hospital, wondering if Suga had cleared out completely. It wasn’t as if he was going to enter the hospital-looking bit of that warehouse, just the spot where they kept the vans and the cars for transporting the omegas in.

“I’m coming with you.” Kageyama said immediately, no holds barred. After the night he’d first called the shorter man an idiot, and the man had laughed back, he’d felt he could get away with being more direct. Maybe he didn’t have to be so, not scared (because that was an insult to his inner alpha), but… apprehensive at what the other would do. Though that was still a far call from calling the omega’s actions predictable and safe. Besides, this was a perfect opportunity to suss out another part of the omega’s base – because all the Officers knew that the Gym wasn’t their only warehouse in this estate. Not after one of the Ravens insinuated a possible storage house, nor Crow a possible clinic-like facility after Magpie’s, no, Tadashi’s unfortunate stabbing.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re fucking not.”

“Oh, so you actually want to leave me here to look at call records and dates and the storage rooms that I know I saw in there?” He lifted his thumb to point back at the gym over his shoulder.

Hinata swore unabashed, letting loose a colourful stream of words before settling his bristling hackles – ones that Kageyama swore he could see, and glaring up at the alpha. The omega gritted his teeth, “Fucking finnneee. But don’t you dare leave my side.”

Kageyama nodded, and smirked, enjoying how agitated the omega seemed – feeling as if he’d finally gained some control back over the situation. Even if deep down he knew the semblance of control was a complete farce and would disintegrate the moment the omega wanted it to. After all, he knew now that in one-on-one, hand-to-hand combat he couldn’t beat them man, and after seeing him pluck a spinning knife coming for his throat out of the air, he didn’t want to try his luck in armed combat.

Hinata growled lowly, face twisting and then spun on his heels gracefully to stalk off down the sidewalk, the alpha having no trouble keeping speed with the shorter strides of the young man. The omega merely swore again, but he couldn’t help a flicker of a smile pass over his face. And then he remembered he was exposing one of their warehouses and he swore for a different reason. Suga would have his head.

“Warehouse 47 huh?” Kageyama was the first to speak upon stopping. He couldn’t help but grin at the new information.

“Your face looks like you’re about to kill someone. What a fucking creepy-ass smile.” Hinata bristled, feeling as if the dam that held their secrets was slowly starting to break. A sense of unease had creeped into him ever since they’d arrived. His heart pounded in his chest, and he wondered just how much more information that trained cop would glean from this encounter – Hinata hadn’t forgotten the interrogation and how easily Officer Kageyama had ripped through the questions, pointed, precise and targeting all the right places. It wouldn’t do to give up more information on a silver platter like this – but, did he have a choice?

The omega busied himself with the roller door, taking a set of keys from where they were wedged under the sealer foam and shoving them into the lock that held the door in place.

“Pfft, like you’re one to talk. You should see yourself when you’re practically bathing in blood.” Kageyama retorted.

Hinata rolled his eyes, unable to say anything of value back, but wanting to scrap nonetheless, “At least I have a scrap of dignity to put my life on the line to protect people, unlike a certain someone who’s supposed to do it for his job.”

The alpha tsked feeling annoyance bubble beneath his skin – he’d put many more things than his life on the line to protect people, his people, his country. Though he couldn’t argue with that for the very same reason he’d requested to transfer. He didn’t want to have to put his life on the line and for that, now, challenged by this spunky omega who knew no limits, he felt ashamed. Maybe he should’ve stayed in the North and kept fighting in the skirmishes at the border, “At least I’m on the right side of the law.” He countered finally.

“Are you though?” With the question hanging in the air, Hinata threw open the roller door, grinning as it clanged and crashed up, exposing the dark insides to the light of the slowly waning day.

Am I? Of course, I am. He thought. It was a preposterous question. But a voice echoed from the dark recesses of his mind, If you really are on the right side of the law, why are others having to do your job for you? Why are omegas having to stand up for other omegas, when there are laws in place to protect them? Kageyama didn’t quite understand why his stomach clenched at the thought, why he felt the familiar dread he was used to on the battlefield claw and rest it’s heavy weight on his shoulders. Were they misguided? Were the cops, instead of insisting righteousness, covering for a broken system?

All of a sudden, as they walked into the warehouse, he felt himself full of desire to understand the omega that walked toe to heel in front of him, to understand the implications of the words and open his eyes. Lost in a haze of confusion, he felt his world thrown into the pits of doubt by that single question – was he? With a flutter in his heart, and a weight on his shoulders that felt as heavy as the scowl on his face, he followed the omega quietly, his steps only faltering slightly.

“Bakayama.” Hinata’s voice echoed, and he didn’t turn around to watch the man. His eyes flicked anxiously over to the door that led to the hospital section of the warehouse, the flimsy walls they’d found erected serving their purpose in demonstrating to his sharp ears that they were completely alone. Not a sound except their footsteps, and the faint whisperings of wind brushing against the outer walls. A car and a singular van sat towards the back of the room, the van’s boot still open and drying from a previous wash. The concrete floor grew damper as he walked towards it and leaned into the dark confines, testing the dryness. Still damp. They’d take the car, “I’m going to get the keys. Stay here.”

It was a gamble.

He hoped the dark-haired alpha wouldn’t be too curious, he hoped the alpha would be just scared enough to stay put and not risk the wrath of him, or eventually his family. For the first time since entry, he caught the other’s gaze, and knew startlingly that the gamble was not in his favour. The only problem was, he either took the alpha to the tiny office room where all the documents of the rescued omega’s were carefully filed, where their landline was, their stock-takes, the briefcases and most importantly – the explosives, which was literally a room full of disasters waiting to be had or risked the alpha walking through that door and finding a confusing room filled with more beds than the Corvid’s had people. He drew a sharp breath. It would be better if he trusted his gut. Hopefully the alpha wouldn’t pry.

As soon as Hinata left his sight, Kageyama’s hand was on the handle of the door.

He’d been left alone. The opportunity was perfect! Perfect and…

… the sight was a shock to his system he didn’t expect.

Beds, large oversized – obviously omegan style beds that accounted for nesting tendencies, pushed against the wall. Makeshift curtains made out of old bedclothes tied back at the wall in between the beds. White. A few sad looking IV drips in the corner. A kidney dish in the corner, on a cart piled with bloody bandages and syringes. A forgotten open briefcase in the middle of a bed – which when he stepped fully into the room and towards it, he recognised it as a heat suppressant.

Who … What?

Each bed looked lived in, only one at the far end still with taut sheets – the rest crinkled and indented. Small indents for the majority, larger for two. A few chairs haphazardly placed around one bed. Lived in. Too many beds.

And then when he breathed in, it only took a split second for his instincts to rise their ugly head and his hand to clap over his mouth and nose. The smell of distress and fear, of blood, of contentment and the faint intermingling that could suggest scenting of some sort was covering something that he’d long been trained to pick out on raids. That is, the sweet undertones of an omegan pup. From what he could smell from his assaulted nose – there was more than one pup.

Kageyama breathed heavily through his mouth, and despite his curiosity, his growing sense of alarm was getting to him. That and the quiet pounding in his head, that told him to get out of the stuffy air before his instincts really took over, before the potent scent of distress made him do something he really regretted. He subconsciously stepped back.

Then it hit him.

The dots began to connect in his mind. One at a time in intervals of microseconds.

Omegas. Gang. Business. Drugs. Superior physical abilities. Suspicious abundance of weapons. Connections. Knowledge.

And now; the beds. The small indents and sweet scent of omegan pups. Hospital. Blood.

The Corvids weren’t trying to help them achieve a common goal in taking down the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate. They were using the Officers to take out their rival, so they could dominate the trafficking scene.

“Fu –“

“Kageyama?”

He spun, so fast that he nearly lost his balance. Eyes wide and heartbeat out of control, he stared at the orange-haired man. Now no longer a glitch in the expected behaviour for an omega, no longer just a messed-up member of a gang – but a person who condoned, who willingly participated in omegan-trafficking. Kageyama watched as the orange-haired man’s face darkened, “I guess I should’ve known you’d find out about this.”

The man reached into the interior pocket of his long black coat, and the alpha’s heart froze like a beat about to drop before the climax of a song. He was dead. He was fucking dead. His reaction time was too slow for the omegas, he knew that too well. His thoughts unhindered by his lack of a heartbeat, raced. He was so fucking –

Hinata pulled out the car keys and spun them around his finger, “C’mon,” He chirped and tilted his head towards the car, darkened look replaced with a much more neutral face. After seeing him so expressive over the past few days – that face was nearly worse. Kageyama mentally took back any comments he had made about the omega becoming close to predictable, as his heart picked itself off the ground, Raven was fucking scary, “We still have a mission to do.”

Kageyama’s words were stuck in his throat as he stumbled after the omega. He was still in a daze, the only thought in his head ricocheting off the sides. They traffic omegas. They traffic omegas. They’re a part of the syndicate. They traffic omegas.

“And reel in your scent for fucks sake. I can practically feel how panicked you are.” Hinata snarled as he unlocked the car door. The omega could feel it invading his lungs, but unlike other alphan scents he’d smelt in various states of anger, panic and disgusting arousal – this didn’t suffocate him so much. The man’s scent was one of the oceans, deep but not heavy; as he’d expected of the alpha with the deep cobalt blue eyes that drowned him whenever they got the chance. But it was also paired with a scintilla of something distinctly fresh, something that pulled him out of the moment and into the waiting arms of the past when his parents were still alive, when everything was still okay – something that smelled of freshly baked bread. Except the scent that assaulted his nose now was panicked and the scent of ocean waves crashed down upon his lungs, and the scent of yeast from the bake fermented in his nose. His body reacted instinctively, and every nerve twitched as he hurriedly sat down in the car, a whine stuck in his throat.

Hinata refused to let it go.

Kageyama, rather, hadn’t realised he’d let it go. And all of a sudden his panicked scent panicked him as he attempted to wrestle it under control, the omega’s words and now stilted actions snapping him from the loop of thoughts.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP.” Hinata yelled suddenly, through the hands he was holding to his nose and mouth. How the fuck was this alpha’s scent so strong? Why couldn’t he just ignore it like he did with others? Why did his body want like it never had before? Not trusting himself, or the alpha, with a shaking hand he closed the car door behind him.

It took a few moments for him to get his breathing under control. And it took a few more minutes to get his now utterly panicked scent under control. The scent of ginger and sunflowers had escaped his clutches and now had seeped into the car, provoked by the alpha’s panicked state. The spiciness itched his nose but didn’t irritate it, as Hinata was thoroughly used to his own particularly strong and heavy scent – something uncommon for an omega, but common for one of his previous status.

Why had the scent aggravated him so much?

Actually, why… why could he smell it?

The door to the passenger seat opened, and Kageyama ducked his head to gaze at him. Hinata only just found it in himself to look at the alpha, emotions back at boiling point with his stupidly late realisation. Fuck, he had to tell Oikawa. Surely his friend would know why this had happened. Oikawa knew a lot more about this shit then he did, and while being tight-lipped about his situation – too tight, Suga had mentioned at times, he wouldn’t say no if Hinata sincerely needed help. But right now, he had a mission to do, and an alpha to deal with – one that he could actually smell.

“I’ve got it under control. Am I… am I alright to come in?”

“Yes,” Hinata replied tersely at the hesitation in the man’s voice. Fucking pity can fuck right off. He didn’t need sympathy, he needed equality. All omegas needed fucking equality and rights – they needed justice, “And stop the with sympathy. I don’t fucking need it. It was a biological reaction that I’ve had to deal with my whole life. I’m not fucking fragile.”

He felt fragile. He felt as if his world was about to fall apart, but the alpha didn’t need to know. And he didn’t. Because the moment the words left Hinata’s mouth, the alpha was sliding into the car, face back to its natural scowl or resting bitch.

Silence dominated the majority of the car trip, littered with gasps and a few swears from Kageyama when Hinata took corners a little too tight, a little too fast and the alpha felt his side of the car tip slightly, either towards the ground, or in the air – it didn’t matter to his primal brain. The one that shouted danger the first moment Hinata had gone from 0 to 80 in five seconds after a stoplight. It was only when the car slowed to a slow crawl, did the tense silence break.

“Are we here or something?” Kageyama wasn’t really a natural when it came to conversation, so his voice was gruff and question blunt.

The omega rolled his eyes, having used the silence to mull over the odd awakening of his nose again – and the fact that he could still smell the dregs of scent that clung to the man’s clothing, the little tendrils that the alpha subconsciously emitted. Now that the mood had mellowed, the scent had followed, the oceanic smells retreating until it smelt rather like wet swimmers after a long day at the beach. Not that it was unpleasant. It was just odd that he could smell things again. It had been a long while.

“Well, we’ve reached the richer end of town. So yeah. We’re here. And we’re walking.” Hinata really didn’t mean to come across as abrupt, but he sort of did, wanting to both keep the alpha at a distance but antagonise him further. He just wanted to be a little shit, to get his own back at the alpha that, right now, was the only representation of the system.

“Right.”

“Mm.”

“So why the fuck are we walking then?” Kageyama had no qualms swearing when he wasn’t on the job, and enjoyed accentuating it. He also sincerely wanted to know, turning to glare at the orange-haired man, who was already half-way out of the car and quietly pocketing the keys. They jingled slightly in the pocket of his coat.

“Because a car slowly traversing the streets is much more noticeable than two people taking a late-night walk. Being in a car screams ‘I’m staking out a rich house to rob’.” Hinata watched the alpha slide from his seat, and waved his arms around to fully emphasise his point to the distracted man.

“Isn’t that the purpose of this mission?”

“Boke. No.” Hinata scoffed, kicking the singular loose pebble from the bitumen, the roads just too well maintained, the grass, hedges and imposing wrought-iron gates bringing back memories he’d rather not face. Not tonight. Not with this idiotically smart alpha beside him, “Information. It’s like what Crow taught us, ‘Be three steps ahead to make up for biological step behind.’”

“Taught?”

“Mm. Yeah.” Hinata glanced at the houses around them then back down to the ground. The sky was starting to darken, the few birds that he could hear now that they’d left the haze of smog for slightest of sea breezes beginning their carolling good nights. They still had a while to walk before they’d reach one of the Justice Minister’s secondary houses, and the house where they suspected the Lord of House Haiba still resided.

“Tell me.” He said suddenly, “Why was your scent so panicked?”

“Oh, so you’re asking questions now? Even after the whole secretive shitshow with that shipping raid and the drugs and the explosives in the back of the fucking car. You didn’t even want to tell us your moniker.”

Hinata shrugged then laughed, dancing around on the tips of his toes and swaying his way down the sidewalk. His body bounded with energy, and he turned on his toes to mock the alpha a few strides away, “True. True. Maybe I’ll have to beat the answer out of you.”

If Kageyama was a lesser alpha, he would’ve paled, but he wasn’t so he rose to the bait as his alphan hindbrain scurried and scratched the back of his brain, his instincts bristling, “That was a spar Raven. I still have the most training and the best technique. My punches are sharper than yours.”

“As if!” Hinata retorted immediately, now taken to skipping down the sidewalk, coat flapping, periodically exposing the two guns strapped to his hips to the inky sky stained with hues of orange and red. His back was turned towards the alpha, as he yelled back, “I’m faster! And I have more experience.”

“Unlikely, Raven.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you dumbass, I have military experience. And I’ve been training since I was small. I joined the Northern Military when I was fifteen, and when I turned eighteen my unit and I managed to turn the tide of one of the biggest skirmishes in history.” Kageyama was fully aware he was probably sharing way too much information with a person who would give him nothing of his own background, but for once it felt nice to be able to talk without people just blindly nodding back, or sneaking around with their words to get him to do what they wanted him do – or at least keep him out of their way, as most Government officials found they wanted to do after talking to the blunt man, “We got a lot of medals, and I got given the name ‘King of the Battlefield’.”

“Ok, now that’s cool.” Hinata slowed his pace until he was only a few steps ahead, rather than twenty. He knew when to pay his dues, and when to show an ounce of respect. Even if it was to an alpha, “You must’ve copped a lot of shit for that though. Did ya flaunt ya name?”

Kageyama smirked, “I didn’t want it at first, but then I told them to go fuck themselves and figured I’d just keep doing what I was doing.”

“Hell yeah. Fuck them.” Hinata hollered, feeling his energy peak with his engagement. He laughed manically, and in the way his eyes lit up in the dying sun, in the halo that reflected of his buoyant orange mop, Kageyama couldn’t help but lose himself a little in the energy. Something about the omega was tempting, and taunting him. Like walking a razors edge, the man was dangerous, but like the scent he craved to smell, fucking addictive.

“I’d still beat you though – ah, we’re here.” The mocking lure died in the omega’s throat as Hinata came to a standstill, staring up at a house from the sidewalk. It was large, three storeys if not a hidden fourth, and from bright lights that shone through the curtains, faint outlines of people could be seen. As Kageyama stepped forward past him, nearly onto the driveway, Hinata pulled on his shirt – “What are you thinking? Stay hidden.”

“I’m going to see if that’s –“

“I have no fucking clue who’s in that house. Nor do I want to know. Just check the number plate of the goddamn car and we’ll be on our merry way. You may have military experience, but you’re a shit scout.” Hinata hissed, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Um actually –“

“Just do it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Are you seriously a pussy?”

“Are you?”

“Are you going to be useful, or will I have to wipe your fucking ass as well.” When Hinata shot back an answer, he shot to kill. Kageyama’s face, animated and exasperated fell into reluctant acceptance. He groaned and made a show of turning back around and walking slowly past the driveway. Hinata followed more quickly, crossing it in a less than two seconds, hoping he didn’t catch the attention of whoever stood in the living room, harsh light spilling across the lawn.

When he reached the other side, he pulled his phone from the outer pocket of his coat, unlocking it with his passcode – he would never be that dumb to use his thumbprint, and brought up the notes’ app, ready to use.

“So, what is it?”

Kageyama told him.

And they kept walking.

It was oddly anticlimactic for the alpha, who had expected more sleuthing and scuttling. More of dashing between alleys and peeking through windows. Or at least pulling receipts out of cars, moulding keys from the sets in the ignition. Because – they traffic omegas, they’re part of the syndicate. The loop restarted in his mind.

“Is that it? Is this all we’re doing?” He forced himself to ask, forced his mind to shut off for a little while at least in the omega’s presence, so they wouldn’t have a repeat of earlier.

Hinata blinked, phone safe in his coat and his arms stretching as high as they could in the air now. If he looked ridiculous, the alpha didn’t say. All he could feel was his body readying itself to do something, “Of course Bakayama. We’re updating our tabs on them. Gotta be ready for fucking anything, ya know…”

He trailed off, voice dwindling as his eyes rested upon a parked car further up the road and the man leaning upon it, smoking a cigar that just barely lit up his familiar hairstyle, his familiar face and sharp almost golden eyes piercing the blooming night.

This. This was something he wasn’t ready for.

•••

Kuroo had no business being out on a Wednesday night, but something wasn’t sitting right on his chest, and ever since he and Kenma had returned to their oceanside house after the memorial, the atmosphere had been stifling – as Kenma had immediately retreated to his room, no doubt to ignore his worries by gaming the night and subsequent days away (as he often would) and Kuroo had been left with his thoughts. His own fucking thoughts which only just today he decided could go fuck themselves as he’d grabbed the first sets of keys from the five hooks that held varying jingling sets, aiming to clear his head on a speeding drive somewhere else. To get out. To get away.

So here he was, in some deserted street in a rich corner of the city, parking the car and clipping a cigar to smoke. When his thoughts eventually drifted back to the memorial and the smiling face in the weathered photo, he forcibly turned them to the case – one that hadn’t been very kind to him or his unit. Smoke curling upwards, he lifted his eyes to the haze of sea-spray that partially smothered the stars and wondered if the increase in omegan births at the Duke’s estate and the decrease in sightings of the elusive man had anything to do with outside influences. Maybe the man was getting bribed.

But… no. The Duke wasn’t a benevolent man, let alone a pushover. He would’ve inherited the title of Duke regardless, but the blood that ran through that man’s veins had little to do with the power he held over this section of the country. The Port was a thriving hub of trade only because of that man’s investments into the economy, though Kuroo had suspicions that the Duke had a foot in the underground black-market trades as well. After all, Kenma had warned him against the man – and Kuroo trusted the omega’s observational skills.

He felt the chemicals enter his lungs and calm him forcibly. He exhaled smoke.

Kenma had been vehement about it as well, and while Kuroo couldn’t recall the exact words the omega had shredded him with before he picked up the case – he could easily recall the sounds of fear and the tightness of apprehension in the man’s voice.

If he thought about it – maybe the reason behind increased omegan births was just a biproduct of increased births overall. And maybe the alphas were being hidden and sold. But that was unlikely, because if there was anything more against society’s unspoken rules like his and Kenma’s living conditions, it was the idea of an unwanted alpha. A perverse truth, which implicated a harsher one in this situation. The fact that if the Duke wasn’t actively involved in the birthing process, as in the few minutes it would take for an alpha to be ‘involved’, his unit could possibly be dealing with a breeding circle that bred purebreds. Which instead of just violating an unspoken rule, was violating the law – and would need active intervention.

His head hurt again, and he took another deep drag of the cigar, relishing in the familiar burn. Leaning on the hood of his car, he felt the forced calm overtake him again, and he turned back to his thoughts.

He’d missed a call from Captain Daichi this morning, one that was odd and out of place – but one that, against better logic, and with his better judgement, he’d ignored. It was probably an apology for the other day, or another request to take and use Kenma. It was hard not to be possessive of the omega, they spent the majority of their lives together, and though he’d initially moved the quiet boy in out of thanks for his skills in the unit and distrust of the Justice Minister (how ironic, he thought), their friendship had stemmed from their youth – friendship propelled by a large overbearing orange-haired alphan seafaring noble and his equally charismatic, equally orange-haired son, who had been more aptly described in early years as a supernova, and in later adolescence years when his features had fined and filled, a bright sun for the country to admire.

Kuroo sighed. Again, again, again – his thoughts had drifted back to Hinata.

Another drag.

He pulled his thoughts back to the missed phone call, and wondered how his rival was going. The alpha had heard some things about the infamous and elusive Corvids, from Kenma, more mutterings than anything else about the littered crow graffiti and how it was either too visible or not visible enough, that or his omega would see someone with a neck tattoo that read FOUND and he’d smile to himself and whisper, Corvid. Kuroo had never thought much about it, but he found himself thinking now, not much else to do.

He’d driven to get out of the house. Out of the head, yet he found himself more rooted in it than ever.

He tapped his cigar and took another drag, watching as ash tumbled down to the sidewalk, then lifted his head back to look at the hazy stars blinking lazily through the fine salty mist that blanketed the night. As he did, faint noises echoed, and he distantly wondered who else would be crazy enough to go for a walk on a Wednesday night. Kuroo couldn’t be bothered to look, not when the burn in his throat felt so nice, and the stars looked so nice and the breeze that ruffled his hair and his clothes felt so nice.

The breeze that brought along with it, voices; voices growing ever clearer.

One of them, familiar. The other sending shivers down his spine, and dread coiling in his stomach. Hope that he thought had long gone, clutched at his neck, suddenly hard to breathe.

He didn’t want to look.

Because he’d looked before and found nothing.

But this time… this time he was afraid he might be faced with something. Four years of denial, or searching, four years of struggling with acceptance and grieving – grief and guilt he still carried with him. All he had wanted was to hear his voice. And now the voice was clearer and louder, and happy. His.

Kuroo turned his head, cigar dropping from his fingers when his eyes were blinded by his little supernova. The one that had dropped into his life, swept him up in twinkling eyes, and burning addictive laughter, only to truly explode – to leave him completely. Orange hair, shorter than he’d ever seen it, eyes still sparkling but with an edge of something unstable. Arms more muscular than he’d seen in an omega, legs still looking wiry and strong and able to beat him in everything jumping-wise.

And the omega stopped as well, frozen in place, as those large honeyed eyes widened in something that likened fear. All of a sudden, that oh-so-familiar scent engulfed him, waves of ginger and hints of sunflowers hitting him, and Kuroo knew, even as it warped and sharpened and turned acrid to his nose, Kuroo knew that this was real.

“Shoyou?” It was a tentative whisper in the air. His voice cracked, “You’re... you’re alive?”

“Tetsurou.”

The alpha took a step forward, eyes locked on Hinata, but tears blurring his vision. A blur of orange, a blur of a golden halo in the light of an old-fashioned lamppost. The omega took a step back, face pale.

Hinata couldn’t differentiate between heartbeats anymore, nor could he feel the textured material of the coat brush against his fingers as he instinctively reached for the gun holstered at his hip. Both guns, one on either side. All he could feel, all he could think about was the two intense stares on his face and the burning sensation that had erupted all over his body, every pore on his body open and pouring out his scent, his scent glands nearly swelling at the sheer volume of fear he was projecting. Rancid ginger, bitter tang of crushed sunflower seeds. And he couldn’t feel the blood in his face any longer. He couldn’t feel his face.

He was beginning to drop.

The shock had rattled his systems, and he tried to fight against it, drawing both guns instantly from their holsters and raising it at each respective alpha. His heart panged more than it already was at the sight of Kuroo, someone who he missed more than he had thought, someone who’s usually stoic, smirking face had cracked right open as tears slid silently down the alpha’s face.

“I’m sorry.” Hinata whispered, staring at Kuroo, willing him to understand as confusion clouded the alpha’s face at the sight of the gun’s black barrel pointed in his direction. And then his gaze flicked to Kageyama, who had surprisingly remained silent throughout the exchange, but whose scent had leaked profuse amounts of confusion into the air. Hinata could barely smell it, could barely remain upright without moving. His body screamed at him; every sense thrown into overdrive. The next comment he directed at the Officer, “I’m sorry.”

“Shoyou.” Kuroo gasped through the heavy air, “Please… I need to know. Why…”

Hinata shook his head, hands shaking. He wanted to lie down, body burning, body trembling. Exhaustion like hound dogs snipping at his heels, he oscillated between feeling like the waking dead and feeling like waking the dead, “Tetsu, I’m so so sorry.”

Then, as always, following Suga’s suggestion, following his pointed comment from his instructions, Hinata turned on his heels.

And he flew.

“HINATA!” Kuroo shouted after him, voice breaking and cracking, too stunned to be able to move in the oppressive scent of fear that the man had left. Too much in shock to even chase the boy. More tears wet his face, dripped from his chin to where his cigar lay still and forgotten at his feet. He hid his face as his shoulder shook, unable to stop the flood of emotions from making themselves known.

Kageyama also remained stock still, glancing from the retreating figure in the distance to the distraught alpha by his side unsure of what, or how to even begin processing the situation. But he knew he wouldn’t get answers from the escaping omega, so he turned to Captain Kuroo, the put-together man slowly falling apart.

“Are you…” No, those were just empty words, they wouldn’t help at all. Words of consolation never helped men on the battlefield, you were more likely to get punched. Instead, people valued honesty and normalcy, so Kageyama shook his head and tried again, walking over closer to Kuroo, “Who is that man to you?”

The oddness of the question didn’t even register to Kuroo, as he looked up, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, hands wet. An unfocused gaze slid over him and then settled and refocused to hold his stare. Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, smiled a wobbly, weak smile that lasted only a millisecond before it dissolved into a frown, “Shoyou Hinata is my adopted brother, and he’s been dead for eight years.”

Chapter Text

 Kenma had never once before in his life had to pack, so it was a surprise at all that he was able to locate the duffel bags, and pull one from the downstairs closet. He dragged it to his room and upended his clean washing basket into it – reasoning that anything he’d worn over the past three days (since Kuroo had last washed) would be acceptable for the circumstances he found himself in. All he could think about was how lucky he was, for this inevitable event to happen while Kuroo was out – because if the alpha was home, there would be no way Kenma would leave. In fact, in the presence of the alpha’s warm scent, he wouldn’t want to leave.

He shook off the thought of Kuroo and ran to his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard. It had been five minutes since he’d left Tadashi on an open line with Suga, and he was itching to know what his boss was saying. Without anything plugged into the headphone jack, he pulled up the security camera for the front of the house, and then opened up the line, clicking on multiple applications until he had two distinct voices with the backing track of a moving vehicles and Tadashi’s now more subdued hitches in breath.

“Of course, we taking Kenma in –“

Suga’s voice wavered in an out with a fresh burst of static, as Kenma closed the wrong thing. He quickly reopened the application and moved his mouse to another monitor, then plugged in the hand-held device he’d disguised as a gaming console but what he actually used to control and store everything, and began to copy over the documents, the files, the applications. He was backing up his hard drive and wiping it at the same time.

“– Kenma! Kenma! Are you there? Do you copy?”

He tapped a key on the keyboard, toggled especially for him. ‘C’.

“Yes, I copy.”

He got off his gaming chair and walked over to the radar system he’d been using to track the locations of the west side gangs and other nobles, logging each updated tag on it, until he could spot recognisable patterns. Tags from scouting, tags from security footage – it didn’t matter. Kenma plugged in a hard disk drive, and began transferring over the information. He’d smash it before he left – just to be sure. Tsukishima, while settling for mediocrity most of the time, was not a force to be reckoned with when provoked.

“Are you mated with Lord Kuroo?” The question was abrupt, “I’m sorry for intruding I just need to know. If you are – he’ll be able to ‘hunt’ you down by scent.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve held off because of my priorities. I knew this would happen one day.” He didn’t intend to sound bitter, but he did. The other side of the line fell silent, but he knew that Suga knew that Kenma was just frustrated at the system.

Mated couples, whose bonds were strong and feelings mutual, could track each other down by scents. It was called ‘hunting’ when an alpha did it, an inbuilt instinctual reaction to find their mate, and called ‘re-joining’ when an omega did it, less of a potent force that they could capture with their noses and more of a subtle tug on their hearts and navels. Oikawa had once described the compelling urge to ‘re-join’ as excruciating, especially if he was rejecting the call of his previous mates. Kenma had never experienced ‘hunting’, either as the subject of the hunt, nor as an onlooker, but he shivered to think about it being on the receiving end of such instinctual fury.

He heard a sigh from the other end of the line, and lifted his head from where he was now disconnecting a laptop from his extensive number of monitors and shoving it in his bag.

“Right. Um…” Kenma could almost hear the cogs turning in Suga’s brain, as the silver-haired omega tried to think of something on the fly. He was probably driving as well, which would make this thought process even harder, staggered and interrupted, “We’ll be at Warehouse 46 in around five minutes –“

“– seven minutes.“ Interjected Ennoshita suddenly, then fell quiet again. His earpiece obviously on.  

“–how long do you think you’ll…”

“Twenty.” Kenma’s eyes flicked over his stuff, his babies that he’d have to part right after he’d just set everything up from moving. It would be a shame to wreck everything but he couldn’t run the risk of someone finding out any more than what they knew already. Secrets already dangerously close to coming to light, teetering on the precipice of exposure, “I need to –“

“Crow…?” This new voice was raspy, breathless and wobbly. The static input was a lot higher and Kenma – from the panting breaths echoing down the line – could tell that Hinata was on the move, “Rook? Are –“

“We’re here Raven.” Suga’s voice was laced with concern, and Kenma marvelled at the sheer weight of comfort and consolation Suga managed to fit into a tone previously fit to the burst of struggled calm. Kenma pulled the charger for the laptop from the outlet and the multi outlet extension cord from the wall, leaving the cords connected where they needed to be, making sure to isolate only this one. He shoved that in, compressing some clothes to make space.

“I’m… I… uh… shit, fucking work! Damnit. C’mon, c’mon, unlock, unlock.” The sound of a car door open and then slamming echoed, and from the hisses of Suga and Tadashi respectively – it must’ve been loud. Kenma was distantly thankful that he didn’t have his headphones on. But the moment was brief, and his thrown again in a state of frantic packing – ears waiting for a much closer sound of a car to indicate his housemate’s, his not-a-courtmate-but-not-just-a-friend’s return.

Why does scent have to be the only fucking sense that was usefully enhanced.

“I saw him.” Hinata’s wasn’t wobbly like Tadashi’s had been, but it was weak and gasped. A bad sign, a bad signal. Trouble breathing through tears was one thing, trouble speaking through shock was another. Kenma tsked and was about to say something when Hinata unknowingly jumped over him again, “God I’ve been exposed.”

Him as well?

The night had gone to shit.

“Tetsu – he..,”

The omega continued to speak, but Kenma didn’t hear it. Now sat on his legs on the floor in front of his filing cabinet – emptying out the cords to find the gun he’d stolen from Lev Haiba who was the son of the Lord currently hassling their detective group (translating to rich and powerful enough to not get in trouble for losing a firearm), he stopped, hands freezing in their action, heart notably absent yet aching nonetheless. If Hinata had said Tetsu, the man they’d avoided discussing for eight years, it meant something catastrophic had happened. It meant the Hinata had been seen.

It meant Kenma had to leave now before Kuroo came back and saw through every carefully constructed lie Kenma had built – for the alpha’s own protection.

He hadn’t wanted to.

But Hinata came first.

Hinata had always come first.

It was the nature of their friendship; it was the nature of their childhood. It had always been that way, and always would be. Kenma was indebted to the man, for being a steady hand of friendship through the first ten years of their life, and for helping him to find Kuroo, the only other man he trusted fully to keep him safe. Well, given he was running away – perhaps not fully. Though it wasn’t his own safety that concerned him, it was Hinata’s, and by consequence everyone else in their family – their pack. Oikawa, whom he’d met a few times before the fire; Suga, whom he was never allowed to meet by order of both their respective fathers; Tadashi (who had an aversion to his last name for some reason Kenma was unfortunately aware of, because knowledge was as much as a curse as a blessing) whom he’d never met but whose sniping skills were the most impressive of a sniper he’d ever seen; Ennoshita, whom he’d also never met, but recognised him as an anchor to the team, able to handle mood swings and rages with a carefully placed word. There was a calm to the latter that he’d been blessed with – though it could’ve easily stemmed from his nicotine addiction and smoking habits. And now, Nishinoya whose information had been difficult for Kenma to source, given the fact that the Fukurodani folk didn’t believe in written records, adhering to oral tradition. Though, by pressure from returning delegations and news of other countries, they were in the process of transferring to a basic written filing system. And yet, despite not knowing a lick about the other omega, as soon as he had been brought into the family – Kenma felt the need to protect him too.

Yes. He had too. Hinata came first. His omegan pack needed him to keep all their secrets secret. And he refused to be the weakest link in the chain.

But Tetsurou…

Kenma sighed, feeling his heart roll on waves of hurt and angst and indecision. Nothing was official between them, and yet everything was. He hated this. He hated feeling torn between his loyalties – the only two he had ever had. The decision had been made, even if it had driven a stake through his heart and even if this meant a severing of his relationship with Kuroo, he had to leave.

“… We need to get rid of all evidence. Everything that could point back to us.” Hinata was still talking, though if Suga had butted in, Kenma wouldn’t know – only just being jarred from his thoughts. The omega still sounded panicked, and his voice still sounded weak. Concerningly so, “Kageyama saw the hospital. Unintended, but he did. He was panicking, so he must have come to some sort of conclusion about us. It’s not safe anymore.” Hinata mirrored Kenma’s words to Tadashi earlier, unknowingly and ironically.

Suga’s voice cut over across in the line of static, just as Kenma’s hands wrapped around the cold metal gun, tugging it from the cords’ grasp. He shoved it in his bag, and then – on a precariously dangerous second thought, pulled it out and set it aside. It would be best if he had access to it, quick access.

“Do you think he caught on –“ He left the unspoken words waver across the wavelengths, finding a short silence in the static.

“I hope not.” Hinata didn’t sound sure, “No verbal cues afterwards, but – I don’t know. Are you nearly…?”

“Just turning in.” Ennoshita’s voice once again interjected the conversation, and Kenma had the oddest feeling that the tattooist was driving. The omega did have the most knowledge with the streets, after all, the only one who grew up living on them, the only one who was able to go out and live on them. Kenma sat haphazardly on the floor, surrounded by cables and wires and a mess of things he’d pulled in his rush to get his most-needed materials. A beeping noise alerted him to the completed transfer of information from the radar system to the hard disk drive and he startled from his thoughts.

A renewed sense of urgency surged forward. The normally muted, controlled scent of lavender sharpening, and the harmonies of oceanic salt spray becoming harsher and more demanding.

“Guys. I’m shutting down communications for good. I need to get rid of everything on my side.” No times was wasted, cutting into whatever worries his pack were spilling at that moment, “Expect me in twenty minutes. If I’m not there in twenty-five, assume the worst.”

“Be careful Kenma,” Suga’s voice softened and then hardened, “I don’t want to lose an ally and a friend.”

“You too.”

“We’ll start tearing things down on our side.”

And then, when another beeping alert him to the transfer of information from his computer to his hand-held device was complete, the hard drive on his computer successfully copied and then wiped, he pressed the toggled button, ‘Q’. The static stopped immediately as the application quit. But that wasn’t enough. How could it be?

He’d prepared methodically for this moment, there was no way he’d allow some second-rate hacker to accidentally reverse the process and find the deleted files and manage to un-corrupt them. Kenma was paranoid, he knew he was, but with the two wolves fighting inside him – the urge to protect Hinata far outweighed his urge to not completely and utterly fry his systems.

Reaching under the desk, he detached a bit of solid metal piping that he used to organise his cords. Pulled it out from its slot. Then, with difficulty as he hoisted oblong shape, once, twice he swung building momentum.

On the third swing he hit.

The crash was momentous.

The monitor caved, glass shattering. Sparks flew from exposed electrical wires, snapping dangerously. The metal and plastic pile of rubble smashed backwards into the external hard drive, the massive box’s fans still whirring. They stopped after the fourth hit. Unrecognisable after the fifth.

On the sixth hit, Kenma had turned to his radar system, watching it as it succumbed to the thick metal piping’s tough. He felt the urge to cry bubble in him, but the feeling of euphoria boil. The crash rang in his ears. The LEDs from the screen blinked feebly at him as they flickered in a perverse SOS sign. But the seventh hit knocked them out for good.

On the eighth hit he overshot, tripping and cutting himself on the broken glass as the momentum of his attempt bludgeoning of his filing cabinet (filled only with cords), pulled him along as well. Only then did he stop and take a look around himself – not just taking in the morbidly mesmerising way his thousand-dollar pieces of equipment shattered under his hits, but the chaos he’d wrecked to the room as a whole.

The metal piping clattered noisily to the ground.

“Ah…” He sighed, returning to himself, thoughts finally filtering back into his head, “Fucking hate instincts. Stupid fucking self-preservation madness.”

Kenma didn’t believe his own words, empty and just filling the silence.

He looked at the bag, his hand-held device, which he guessed he should probably call a tablet perched on top. Pressing it gently down he zipped the fabric flaps shut and dragged it to the door. He was leaving. He was doing this. He owed it to Hinata. He owed it to his future. He owed it to all the secrets his pack had.

He was leaving to protect that one secret he was a part of.

The secret of what happened eight years ago, and everything that came before that.

But… he loitered at the threshold of the room, sighed and projected his scent out until it filled the room – leaving a message for Kuroo in the delicacies and nuances of his scent. Because he owed something to Kuroo as well, and he didn’t want the alpha to assume the worst. I’m safe, I’m okay and I’m so fucking sorry I have to do this to you. There’s something much larger at play here, and I can’t risk your life as well.

•••

Across the city, deep in the West Side – where smoke curled lazily out from the doors of The Temptress’ Tavern, where scarred and battered middle aged men looked weathered far beyond their haggard looks and apparent years, yet with glints in their eyes and the handguns strapped to their sides, Daichi and Iwaizumi sat at the bar drinking.

At least, they had been.

Until they’d gone to check in half an hour ago. Catching the end of Tadashi’s and Tsukkishima’s check in, and staying on for everything else. When the voices went quiet in their ears, it wasn’t of their own accord. The line was dead. And it had been destroyed.

Daichi ran his finger down the condensation formed on his warming beer. He opened his mouth to say something then closed it, his mind struggling to the stay ahead of the pounding headache forming behind his eyes. Iwaizumi dutifully took a swig of his own lukewarm beer, letting out a low growl, “Fuuucckkkk.”

“That really sums it up doesn’t it?” Daichi laughed dryly, then stopped after a second. Getting lost in his thoughts again, he tapped his now wet forefinger and thumb together, frowning at the cool sensation. He sighed, “I guess this is pointless now, isn’t it?”

“The mission, or your interest in Crow?” Iwaizumi hadn’t drunk that much at all, and he wasn’t drunk in the slightest, but alcohol had the tendency to make alphas more forward with their words, aggressive and blunt. Even though the situation had sounded panicked and rushed spilling from the omega’s mouths into their eavesdropping ears, neither made a move to leave.

Why should they? Thought Iwaizumi, the alphas would track them down eventually. And they couldn’t be rushing off without first carefully handling their emotions and figuring out what they needed to do. That and the fact that, essentially, the Corvids were just a stepping stone to get to the OTCS. A relatively minor gang in the scheme of things – no matter how enticing a certain tall, brown-haired omega was. One that had gone into heat… his hindbrain snapped at him suddenly, instincts begging for him to do something. While there was attraction there on his part, and perhaps a growing interest, Iwaizumi knew that there was nothing between them.

Daichi had bristled at the comment, “The mission, obviously.” The alpha reached out and downed his beer in three swift gulps, “And I’m not interest in Crow. Curious as to who the fuck he is, yes. But not in the way you’re suggesting.”

“Of course not.” Iwaizumi grinned at his long-time friend, “It’s not as if the control on your scent has wavered enough to let me know that he’s on your mind a lot of the time.”

“Well, he has been.” Alcohol had loosened Daichi’s tongue, “How can he not be? We know nearly nothing about him. He talks like he’s the mother of their gang yet he commands them like he’s had military experience, he handles weapons like it’s a privilege to get to touch them but he kills without a second thought.” The bartender set another beer stein in front of Daichi when the alpha gestured for another one. He took a massive gulp and slammed the glass back down on the table, turning to Iwaizumi in a frustrated huff of exasperation, “Why is he so confusing?”

Iwaizumi just shook his head, bemused, and listened to his friend rant. Oh, what a beautiful thing denial was.

“And he looks like an angel.” Daichi lamented, taking another swig. A faint pink tinge had settled across his features, and when the bartender came to give Iwaizumi another drink, he waved him off. Iwaizumi would be the designated driver tonight. The alpha pulled out his phone and frowned at a text from Tsukkishima, relaying information he already knew, only half focused on his captain’s rant, “And he has around thirty crow tattoos covering his back. Which is just so fucking badass ya know? And the way he speaks as well, sends shivers down my spine – the authority. Could be a noble, but he’s a gang member. A gang member. Scratch that, probably some sort of mafia lord. He’s just too fucking devious and smart not to be.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi vacantly prompted, tapping out a reply to Tsukkishima.

[15 minutes ago]

Tsukkishima: Captain ’s not answering his texts.

Tsukkishima: Found out that Rook is Kenma.

Tsukkishima: I ’m taking a taxi back to the station. Tadashi ditched, informed the rest of the Corvids. What are our next movements?

[now; 6:50 pm]

Iwaizumi: Inform the rest of the unit. Be on standby.

Iwaizumi: Contact Kuroo or Kageyama. Inform them of our positions and request the Nekoma unit to meet at the station. We ’ll be there within the half hour.

[6:51 pm]

Tsukkishima: Ok. Will do.

“Yeah.” Daichi whispered, then set down his drink finally. Iwaizumi glanced up at the half-empty cup of golden liquid and slowly eased it from his Captain’s grasp, then put it far out of reach on his other side. They might have to leave sooner than they expected, if Tsukkishima was worked up enough to send a string of texts rather than just the one. Had the man come to some sort of realisation? Iwaizumi sighed and went to stand, but his Captain’s hand stopped him. A contemplative expression stuck on his face, “His scent is weird as well. It smells amazing but what sort of omegan scent can demand submission from alphas?”

The comment was odd and something about it set off prickles down his back and alarm bells in Iwaizumi’s brain – but he wasn’t sure for what. He couldn’t linger on it however, time was slipping through their fingers, and if Daichi wanted answers, the only way they could get them was to apprehend the Corvids, for real this time, “We’re leaving Sawamura.”

It was the last name that had Daichi standing, in a tipsy haze knowing that his Vice shouldn’t be messed with, “Lead the way. I want to see the angel again.”

•••

Kuroo’s hands trembled around the keys he held. They clinked against the doorknob, avoiding the lock. He ran a hand through his bed-hair, and tried harder but only succeeded in scraping gold paint off, flecking to the ground sullenly. Something wasn’t sitting right on his chest, the house was too quiet, scent too stale, but there was something else his ears couldn’t pick up, something his inner alpha blanched at, worry scraping at his mind.

Behind him Kageyama growled, “Neep help?”

A sentiment gruffly spoken, given the previous purely professional relationship between the Officer and Captain, and the events of the last half hour – Kageyama now added to the list of four people that had even seen him cry, that is Hinata, Kenma, his mother and now the man prying the keys from his clenched right fist. The other alpha looked uncomfortable, and that Kuroo was partially responsible for, who felt dead on his feet.

No, not dead.

What was the phrase?

Like his whole world had been turned upside down. Like his Earth had met the sun again and was blinded by its brilliance, thrown off its rotational spin. Underwater, swimming closer to the bottom of the sea to get a breath of air. Disorientated. Dissociated. Stuck in a loop of moments, memories and haunting questions.

Kuroo blinked back fresh tears, his thoughts surrounding Shoyou, unable to get the fear and shock that had stained the omega’s face and tainted the air around them. Why had he been so sorry, scared? Why had he hidden himself? Had he faked his death? Was he okay? Was he safe? Was someone chasing him, was he scared of Kuroo now? Was there someone in the Noble court that had hurt him? Neither him nor Kenma had seem much of the omega after Shoyou turned sixteen, when he was removed from the House of Kuroo to prepare for his inheritance of his late father’s position. And to prepare for his upcoming wedding and responsibilities of a housewife.

What had happened?

Kageyama opened the door smoothly, hands not plagued by the same trembles that racked Kuroo’s body. And as soon as he did so, Kuroo bolted into the house – hesitation gone. 

“KITTEN!”

The yell echoed in the confines of the house, as Kuroo realised exactly what was wrong, vaulting the stairs three at a time. The mechanical hum of machines was gone. It was completely silent. Dead silent. Like an oppressive fog had settled over the house, his home unrecognisable in the stillness. And for the second time that night, he felt his heart swell to fill his entire body, and dread clutch at his stomach as fear trickled coolly down his face. No, this – what was happening? Where was Kenma? Why was it silent? Why couldn’t he feel the soft, calming presence of –

“KITTEN! Kenma?” He reached the top of the staircase, eyes narrowing in on the room at the end of the hall – the largest room in the house. Kenma’s office and bedroom, door ajar. The door was never ajar. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.

Kageyama reached the top of the staircase as Kuroo remained at a standstill, the alpha apprehensive about what lay beyond in the room his best friend and hopefully one day lover, both watching the open-door creak and open further. Darkness lay beyond. Silence lay beyond. Every answer and every fear lay beyond that fucking door. Kageyama felt his feet move before the action crossed his mind. What lay beyond? What was Kuroo so afraid of seeing?

The other alpha, spurred on slightly in his dissociated haze by the faint sounds of Kageyama’s shoes on the ground, stepped forward.

One step.

Like moving through treacle, or honey, or thick black tar that clogged his every pore in fear and apprehension and fuck what if something had happened, what if he was too late again because he was always too late and it was always his fault. What if…  

Another step.

Watching the oblong black void grow larger to loom in his vision stretching like a black cat uncurling in all of its bad luck and superstition, speaking of nothing but fuzzed grey havoc in the swirling patterns down its back, mocking him softly, too slow, too slow. Too close. Toor far. Too slow. What if…

Another step.

And the handle burned his hand, as the heavy door swung out too easily.

What Kuroo was greeted with – what he was slapped in the face with was first the smell, as his golden eyes tried to take in the dark. But Kenma’s scent, still fresh and ever-so-slightly sweet, brought fresh tears to his eyes and whatever sight his eyes were adjusting to blurred. He felt a hand on his back, as Kageyama awkwardly moved to peer into the room beside him, and a muttered, “Holy shit…” and then a, “Is he your omega?”

“I… no… oh my god.”

His eyes had creed the sight to be worth seeing, and Kuroo blinked away the tears to be not slapped, but punched low in the gut by the destruction he saw.

Metal scraps. Twisted, tainted, bent and broken. Screens askew – smashed. Cables cut – crackling. Glass glittering on the floor like a perverse scrapbook. A metal pole discarded on the floor and the filing cabinet warped and caved in, small drops of blood the only colour in the dark, silent room.

It stayed silent until Kageyama stepped forward on crunching glass, and turned to look at Kuroo.

“What does his scent say?”

“Pardon?”

“You know what I’m talking about Lord Kuroo. Please you’re a fucking Captain. I followed you because I couldn’t go back to the station. But this is looking more and more suspicious with each passing minute. What relation does Kenma have to Rav – Hinata?” Kageyama was trembling slightly, and though Kuroo was in no right mind to have the effort to be observing others – old habits died harder than worldviews, and he noticed the tension in Kageyama’s shoulders. Clenched fists too. How long had the detective spent in his supernova’s company? The Captain added it to the burning pile of questions throbbing in the back of his head.

He blinked slowly and tried to clear the throbs, the haze and the cloud of instincts and emotions that he hadn’t realised had coalesced in his mind, “Shoyou was our best friend. Is. Is our best friend.” Kuroo whispered at first, but once he had started speaking he felt something spark within him, and he fostered the fire until it bubbled forth from his lips, “Wait. What the fuck are you insinuating? What are you trying to say about Kenma and Sho?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Kageyama was trying to stay calm. Trying to keep his voice measured and controlled, and though it took a special type of person to get under his skin – since the for a lack of a better word, discovery earlier, his tight control on his instincts and anger were starting to slip. It took mustering the hard-won sense of controlled panic he’d gained from years on the battlefield to grit his teeth and try and walk Kuroo through his grief. Something the alpha wasn’t handling particularly well. Fucking nobles, useless as always, “All you need to do right now, is translate the message Kenma-san left behind. Given how strong the scent is, without any overarching emotions –“ He tried not to think of ginger acrid and burning in his nose, the hatred so potent and insistent –“it’s clear that he’s trying to send a message.”

There wasn’t much Kuroo could say. But he didn’t want to anymore, an emptiness lodging itself behind his navel, and aching for closure. All he felt was confusion.

He sniffed the air softly, inhaling long and slow through his nose then out through his mouth, feeling the not entirely unpleasant sensation of Kenma’s familiar scent tingle his airways. At first there was lavender, as always the primary scent filling the space needily. The alpha could sense sorrow, guilt, hope in the tinges and tendencies as the scent dipped and waved through his lungs and visions and words entered his mind.

I ’m sorry.

Kuroo could practically hear Kenma speaking in a soft murmur, tired, with a small pout on his face that ever since the alpha could remember – he’d longed to kiss right off. Kenma had always withheld from his advances, but Kuroo said he’d break down those walls no matter how long it took. For some reason the omega had smiled sadly and said he couldn’t wait for the day – as if the reason he said no wasn’t his reason at all. The scent blanketed him, and the lavender soothed him.

I ’m safe.

I ’m doing this for you Tetsu.

Something was wrong, because Kenma wouldn’t just do something for other people without reason. And then the secondary scent, the lesser scent of Kenma’s entered his nose and Kuroo felt overwhelmed with sadness – but also overwhelmed with his omega’s determination. The normally pleasant, but now briny scent of the ocean’s salt spray weighed down his heart.

I ’m so sorry.

Kuroo could picture the small hands playing with the two-toned hair in guilt, and worry and sorrow and his heart clenched. He could see the tears that had pooled in Kenma’s eyes. Subconsciously, under Kageyama’s watchful, observant eyes, he traced a finger over the filing cabinet and sighed. And when he breathed in, deep and slow and steady, next – he knew the message had some to a close.

I love you. No matter what happens, I ’ve always loved you.

It felt like a goodbye.

And he couldn’t just blink away the tears.

He didn’t want the first time he heard Kenma say I love you to be in a scent message he left before the omega disappeared off the face of the planet. Before he… died. Kuroo sank to the floor, back scraping along the dented filing cabinet, but managing to not get glass up his arse. And Kageyama just stood there, completely unsure of how to act as Kuroo broke down for the second time that day – tears running silently down his face.

The alpha didn’t even try to make a sound, to voice his grief, just pinched the bridge of his nose as the teardrops fell, one after another. Running jagged tracks along his face, in an attempt to sooth the jagged edges of his mind.

But they didn’t have time to mourn.

Not when they knew the location of one of the gangs from the OTCS.

Kageyama went to rouse Kuroo, but he found himself unnecessary, as the Officer’s phone dinged loudly in the silent space, and the job was already done; Kuroo startled visibly, and turned bloodshot eyes to the other. The other that was now staring at his phone in horror, eyes wide and face drained of all colour – because though he had suspected, he hadn’t expected to see it on a bright screen in the ugly font next to the green messages’ icon.

He had thought the knowledge too much of a hunch to voice.

Though apparently Tsukkishima had no such issue.

At least things were starting to make sense.

“Captain Kuroo-san.” He – no, they – couldn’t afford to mince words and lose more time, “I need you to call your unit and tell them to go to the Karasuno Police Station as soon as possible. We’re apprehending the Corvid gang tonight and we have reason to believe that Kenma is a part of their group.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Any part of Kenma scent evaporated immediately, replaced with heady insistence of pine needles – and Kageyama, quickly covering his nose at the change, knew instinctively that it was Kuroo’s rage that had expelled the scent from his body. He battled for dominance in his own body and despite it going against all of his personal trainings and protocols, Kageyama let go of his own scent, pushing back against Kuroo.

They stared down for a moment, as Kageyama’s scent grew to match Kuroo’s, then quickly outstripped his, the former’s anger coming more quickly than he had expected and the latter’s dissipating despite his better judgement. Kageyama’s potent scent of the ocean waves, just reminded him too much of Kenma’s more delicate and refined salt spray – and all he wanted to do was sleep and mourn the new emptiness he felt. To greet it like an old friend.

He’d lost his sun, his supernova. And now he’d lost his stars, his moon, his light and guiding way, his life-long companion –

“You haven’t fucking lost him you idiot.” Kageyama seethed, tapping long fingers on a broken monitor angrily. The smell of Kuroo’s emotions were so intense, that despite having little to no interactions with the man before today – his thoughts were practically engraved in the air, “Reel in your scent and stop fucking moping.” It took a lot of self-control, to not just rip into him like it was the army. He had to be civil, he was being civil (at least compared to what he’d experienced), “Kenma-san and Hinata are still out there. And last time I fucking checked they’re on the run, getting further and further away as we speak. If you want to why any of this shit happened, then get off your ass and help us find them.”

The older man lifted his head, and nodded once, eyes clearing.

Kageyama supposed there was a reason Kuroo was the Captain of the Nekoma Detective Unit, despite being a noble. The determination in his eyes and hard set of the alpha’s jaw spoke of a larger resilience, and will to go through with something he started. To leave no holes in his defence. Kuroo cleared his throat, got out his phone and dialled it.

There was barely one ring before the call clicked open.

“HELLO?” Someone yelled, “Captain? Why are you – Shut the fuck up Lev I swear to god, I’m on the fucking phone – Sorry, Captain, why are you calling this late?”

“Yaku, the Karasuno Unit have requested help to apprehend the Corvid gang. And…” He swallowed, and flinched at the way his voice wavered next, knowing full well his colleague could hear it, “Kenma’s gone missing and they seem to think he’s connected to the gang.”

“Well fuck.” Yaku said plainly, but Kuroo could already here him moving, the scuffling and rustling not hard to pick up over the static of the phone call. He heard a more distant, “Lev get up off your ass, we’re going to the – Captain are we conjoining at their station?”

“Yes.”

“– we’re going to the Karasuno station. Call Yamamoto, Inuoka and Fukunaga.”

Kuroo could hear a mumbling in the background and then a, “Don’t be so fucking lazy. You’re the one that wanted in on the action. We’re getting action.”

“Yaku.” He brought the man’s attention back, as Kageyama silently flashed him his screen, dark cobalt blue eyes piercing him. The screen was blurred in his vision, and it took a few seconds for him to blink away the haze and take in the words. White text on green background never did pair well, and though his head throbbed all he could focus on was the draining of blood from his face and the drop of his stomach to the floor that seemed to sway beneath his feet. And yet his voice remained steady, “Pull out all stops. This gang is suspected to be part of the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate. Possible military training. Strategists. And…” He petered off, as another text from someone labelled ‘Vice’ popped up. This time his voice really did waver and dwindle, shock apparent, “they’re all omegas.”

“…Right.” Yaku sounded sort of confused. An all-omegan gang was unheard of, and omegas rarely operated independent of their alpha counterpart, “Tell me why you’re agreeing to the call for backup over a group of omegas? Can’t the Karasuno Unit handle themselves? Lord Haiba’s breathing down our fucking necks about the Duke’s case, and he’s threatening to pull out his funding for this operation.”

Kuroo glanced at Kageyama, attention split by the sound of tapping. The other alpha had dropped his phone back in the pocket of his slacks, and was tapping the back of his wrist impatiently. Hurry up. The frustration was clear on his face, glaring at Kuroo.

“Give me one more fucking minute Kageyama-san.” Kuroo hissed, “Get off your high horse and wait.”

Kageyama grit his teeth then removed his phone again, and in a few quick taps a dial tone was spilling out into the room. Kuroo rolled his eyes, feeling the sense of emptiness tug at his navel to remind him of its presence. And then he remembered Yaku’s question, and the fact that he had to answer. His stomach rolled again.

He might as well rip off the band-aid now.

No matter how painful it would be to admit it to his friends.

To realise the feelings that had conquered him.

“Hinata’s alive.”

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“And he’s part of the gang.”

“Oh.”

“And Kenma too.”

All Kuroo got was a soft, “So that’s why” and a “we’ll be there.” The next minute, Yaku had hung up and the alpha was left to deal with an emotionally unavailable Officer and the emotions too readily available for him to peruse in his bruising heart, burst from the gains and the losses. How did people do this? He wanted to rip his heart out, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to shoot and keep shooting until his demons were dead and in the ground and the ignorance returned, until Kenma returned, until his little supernova returned – sweet, and soft and full of that youthful innocence without that haunted look in his eyes, because Kuroo just couldn’t protect him. Because he wasn’t fast enough.

Wasn’t fast enough.

But now he had a second chance.

With the destruction around him, the broken computers, the fractured emotions he’d felt in Kenma’s scent message, in the dark room and the dark look on Kageyama’s face, he now had a second chance – to save what mean the most to him.

And by fucking gods, he was going to take it.

So, the alpha stood straight, and Kageyama by proxy did too – taking in the way Kuroo’s eyes gleamed with a light previously extinguished. And the Officer sighed internally, because a man with a purpose was a man that lived and saw through their goals. So, he sized him up again, cleared his throat and muttered, “Taken care of it?”

“The Nekoma Unit will meet your bosses at the Karasuno Station. I’ll ask you once, are you fucking sure that both Hinata and Kenma are in the Corvid gang?” Kuroo had started to walk, but stopped at the doorframe, looking back and levelling him with a gaze that spoke of zero tolerance for bullshit of any kind. Silhouetted in the light, Kageyama suddenly realised that this noble – perhaps only this one – might be more predatory, and more intelligent than he thought nobles could be. The harsh tone was one that shook him to his core, smooth but grating and completely dissimilar to the broken man he’d seen a few minutes prior, or the sly lilt of the man who had teased him a few days ago. It was a demand. It was an order. It was Kuroo reminding Kageyama exactly which organisation he was a part of and who his superiors were.

In fact, it was nearly condescending.

Kageyama swallowed, “Yes, I’m sure and the unit is sure as well. We have recorded audio proof of Raven – sorry, Hinata if you need to verify. And one of my colleagues pieced together that Kenma was acting as their informant under the moniker Rook. Now can we fucking go, so we can get actual statements and first-hand confession please?”

And so, with a stiff nod from Kuroo, they left.

As they drove, Kuroo tried to ignore the feeling of dread stroking his face with cold fingers, colder tendrils of betrayal edging into his mind. He tried to ignore the bubbling pot of questions that had erupted from Kageyama’s last response – because, no. No, ‘because’, not now. If he wanted a reason for anything he had to get Hinata back. That’s what mattered. Because he wanted to see Kenma, and Kenma had obviously followed Hinata. His hand gripped the steering wheel tighter as he tried not to let the smaller but blossoming feeling of nostalgia and bittersweet melancholy wash over him, he tried to stay angry and bitter. He tried not to think of Kenma, animated and laughing and smiling over Shoyou, young and carefree – all of them. Fondness clutched him, as sadness wrapped him.

Those boys are going to be the death of me.  

But he’d rather die than live in a world without them both; Shoyou, his brother and Kenma, his one-day lover.

And Kageyama, tapping the wheel against the hand-rest in the side of the door, tried to push back the rising excitement he felt – answers within his grasp. They were getting closer to the truth, they were getting closer to the orange-haired man, and the reason why he had joined the gang, and the reason why he held the bloodlust in his eyes and the determination to save and protect his family when his real family mourned him at the other end of town. And maybe, hopefully, possibly – the reason why Kageyama found himself liking the younger more and more.

•••

Hinata’s fingers hadn’t stopped trembling.

It had been fifteen minutes. He was parked at the House, ready to go inside and help with the preparation to initiate the plan to go into hiding. Their demolition plan and subsequent running away. He was ready to go. He wasn’t scared of meeting Kenma for the first time in eight years. He definitely wasn’t scared of Kenma possibly rejecting him because of how much he’d changed – hormones and just in his general demeanour, definitely not, he tried to reason with this thrumming heart, heartbeats still too fast to be good. In his shock, he forgot that Kenma had been by their side for quite a while, and he’d seen exactly what Hinata was capable of, and most importantly didn’t care.

Hinata definitely wasn’t scared.

But he did know, clearly and vividly without a shadow of a doubt or confusion, was that his body was in shock. He was teetering on the edge of a drop, swinging above the void, instincts clutching at his leg and trying to pull him into the deep. Only his will to get to safety had kept his finger gripping the edge, but now that he was so close to it – well, his fingers hadn’t stopped trembling.

And he still couldn’t really feel his face, even if it tingled every now and again as blood tried to climb the heights once more. The shivers had begun to rack his body, coolness settling over him, searching for a way to make his as unappealing as possible to potential predators, and to heal the damage – any damage, that might have been done. Even if… his stomach clenched, his head throbbed… even if it was years old.

When Hinata stumbled out of the car, he didn’t register the motion.

When his foot hit the curb and his body was thrown onto another solid, decidedly warmer wall than the ground would’ve been, he didn’t notice. All he heard was his heart in his ears, growing louder as darkness descended.

He woke in the arms of Suga, breath not entering his body, as the silver haired man clutched at him, knuckles white and grip vice-like. For a second nothing entered his mind, and then the tsunami crashed down upon his ears, his eyes, his nose, the sensations filling him as his over-alert sensations warned him of the mundanities in the area, and his memories of the trauma he’d just experienced. Like a ‘recently-on’ part of popular television shows that Ennoshita had shown Suga, Oikawa and him, everything went into overdrive. And Hinata couldn’t help but let out a small whimper.

It was cold. But at least now he could hear the silence between heartbeats, unlike the steady cascade of earlier.

Suga gasped, and merely tightened his hold.

To say he’d been scared when he’d seen Hinata fall would be an understatement. It was like that day all over again, running forward, tripping over still gangly arms and legs to reach his best friend, watching him fall, watching him for the first time drench himself in blood – except that time, it was his own. He was thankful that this time he had reached the man in time to catch him, a mercy he wasn’t granted eight years ago. A time he was granted now to hold him and rock backwards and forwards and mutter to himself as much as Hinata, “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Natsu whimpered where she stood in Nishinoya’s caring arms, not knowing what was happening, or why Suga looked so freaked out, or why anytime anyone tried to approach the two – Suga hissed at them. They were family weren’t they? Wasn’t she supposed to help her brother? Ever since he found out about having a sibling, he’d tried to make up for the lack of years he’d spent with her, the lack of a shared childhood they’d had. It still hurt to think that Suga had known her kin longer than she had, that Suga was now near-feral and wary of all of them. Natsu looked to Ennoshita who shook his head, retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and murmured, “Don’t even try.”

The resignation in his voice didn’t hide the concern pinching his eyebrows together. But Ennoshita knew – more than the two barely-adult pups – even if he had only been with them for now nine months, that no one could get near Suga when he was being protective. He knew that Suga, Hinata and Oikawa’s bond as packmates was unusually strong, and their friendship he gathered ran miles deep. Only Oikawa would be able to get Suga out of his state now, that or –

“How long was I out?” Hinata’s voice was gravelly and low. Weak. Just like how it had sounded over the lines.

“Three minutes.” Suga whispered back, a singular tear running down his face and dropping onto Hinata’s. When the orange-haired omega reached out to wipe the next tear from Suga’s face, his arm trembled. The stimuli of the surroundings were still too much, his body still protested. All he wanted to do now was sleep the stress away, but he couldn’t. Hinata’s scent, which had remained in the air as a protective measure in the drop, fluctuated with unease.

“Fuck.”

Suga grinned and rubbed his back, more tears gathering in his eyes, but this time in relief.

“Hey, hey.” Hinata’s expression softened and his scent increased in potency. Nishinoya felt his brain fuzz over and Ennoshita felt the urge to vomit greet him in waves. And yet, simultaneously the soft tang of ginger was soothing, and the bitterness of sunflower and it’s seeds complimenting the former excellently. Nishinoya was immediately transported back to the caravans of his nomadic wanderer childhood (he was still considered a pup in this country, but a man in Fukurodani), and the spices that would greet him warmly on the nose, dinners with other Wanderers, merchants chatting amiably, trading stories and food. He felt nostalgia shake his hand. Ennoshita knew the smell of rich food could be enticing, and the memories for him were far from pleasant – yet Hinata’s tangy bitter scent forced him past the initial image of the alphas in the orphanage and their tasteful food, and to a more pleasant memory of his adopted brothers trying and failing to cook a good stir-fry. Ennoshita didn’t like the way his heart squeezed. And Suga, Suga relaxed into the scent. Into the safety and strength, it provided. Hinata had always been the strongest out of all of them, an unspoken truth that had been proved time and time again. He was a crutch that Suga relied on, more than he cared to admit, a smile that soothed him – even if it was sometimes twisted in bloodlust and cruelty. So, when Suga breathed in Hinata’s scent, the image that came to his mind was one of Hinata, back when everything was still okay – when Hinata’s parents were still alive, and back when Suga’s parents hadn’t started pushing their expectations onto him. Smiling, running around in the garden Hinata’s mother had planted with her own hands (something distinctly un-omegan, but that allowed her to connect with her Aoba Joshai islander roots), filled with the pleasant scent of ginger, of sunflower, of lavender and clean sheets drying in the sun. Hinata’s voice filled his ears as he cried, “I’m still here. I’m okay. I’m not going to drop again, I promise. Okay? I’m alive Suga. I’m alive. Feel my heartbeat.”

On that day his heart had stopped.

But it was beating today.

Suga put his ear to Hinata’s chest. And soon it became Suga wrapped in Hinata’s arms rather than Hinata wrapped in Suga’s.

“I’m breathing. Feel my chest.”

On that day he hadn’t been breathing.

But he was today.

Suga felt the flow of air, as his chest expanded and contracted, and he sighed himself, sniffling.

“Now.” Hinata’s voice, while still weak, was soft but firm, “Remember what you told me that day? We have a job to Suga.” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others – standing a distance, looking quite distressed, couldn’t hear him, “We have to stand up and fight, like we couldn’t do before. We have to protect the people that we love. So we have to stand up and show them no fear. Remember, your rule number 1? They can’t exploit our weaknesses, if we don’t show them any.”

Hinata patted his back once, twice, three times and then shakily stood again, pulling Suga to his feet. And the orange-haired omega grinned, bringing light to their faces in rays of hope, and he turned to address the rest of the omegas, gaze landing softly on Natsu then flicking back between the others – “Now let’s stand and show them that wonderful flight response we have carved into our blood, right? Let’s make a stand! Make a statement! Let’s fuck with their heads and show them we’re not who they think we are.”

“We have to be –“ Suga started, regaining himself and his composure.

“Three steps ahead to make up for our biological step behind.” Everyone chanted, suddenly grinning as energy burst back into their bodies.

“Let’s start Operation Immolation.”

The omegas in front of them scattered, the plan ingrained into their minds. And Suga stood still, remaining in awe of Hinata, and how he went from a drop to suddenly the anchor of their team – giving them life and hope and sense of renewed energy. And he remembered what Hinata’s life could’ve been so he leaned into the smaller, younger man and hugged him again, murmuring, “I’m so glad you got out of there.”

“I could say the same thing, Boss. You were born to be a leader ya know?” Hinata turned on his heel and gestured for Suga to come help him, the desks and chairs and maps on the wall needing to be butchered entirely, some scraps of knowledge ones that the cops could never find out. Suga laughed, and began collecting the loose files and stacks of paper together and putting them in a large heap. The petroleum bottles that sat unassumingly along a wall, dragged unceremoniously across the floor by Hinata, the liquid dousing the materials in the strong-smelling flammable liquid.

“I doubt it. Did you see me back there? It makes me question why I’m the leader and not you. You know how to inspire people.” Suga admitted, no qualms about talking insecurities to Hinata, knowing that he didn’t necessarily have to act that strong in front of his brother. Even if he has to in front of the others – heck even Oikawa sometimes, he just felt their differences so much, feels so luck beside the man. And he knew, he knew, that his hurt is his hurt and only his – but it doesn’t stop him from feeling pathetic when he wallowed beside Oikawa. Because Oikawa is and was so strong, and somehow managed to keep smiling despite it all. The other omega in the room however knew everything of Suga’s past, and Suga everything of his. And Hinata wouldn’t be Hinata if he judged.

“Oh no, all that structure would kill me. Having to plan meticulously for all sorts of circumstances, you’ve been doing that since day one. You’re so calculating and accurate as well – when I first met you I thought you were a mind reader.” Hinata chirped back interrupting Suga’s somewhat spiralling thoughts, the smile on his face jarring with the facts that he was sweeping computers and keyboards and mouses off the desks in loud crashes and bang – metal and glass spinning out across the floor. Suga picked up some wads of paper from between shattered computers gingerly, shaking the glass shards off of them, but still chuckled, heart lightening with the comment.

“C’mon Crow, I was four.”

“You were an idiot.”

“To be fair –“

“Baka.” Suga grinned.

“Says you. You cried the first time you saw Ma kill a chicken.” Hinata bit back not thinking. Suga immediately sobered up, despite the fact that he wasn’t drunk to begin with. It was the first time Hinata had mentioned his parents in a very long while, but as the silence stretched on, and Hinata’s face fell he realised that it was up to him to give Hinata a sense of normalcy. It was obvious it had been a slip up, and not a bid to talk about it.

“Well, I…” He paused momentarily, “That’s unfair. You know very well that I hadn’t seen anyone get killed before.”

“Oh, so you just didn’t go to any executions when you were seven?” Hinata rolled his eyes, prying a shard of glass from a computer screen and poking the electronics behind it, “Do you know how many people I saw walk the plank when they got caught harassing foreigners? There’d be a whole day of it.”

“Of course, I went to executions, but omegas aren’t allowed to watch the actual death because it’s ‘improper’.”

“Oh, so we’re worried about propriety now are we? Should I knock?” A different voice spilled out into the room, small but managing to carry a certain sense of confidence and apathy at the same time. It was a voice they knew very well, having spoken on the other end of their communication system for well over six years. And for Hinata, a voice that he’d never had the tragedy of missing, a constant throughout his life.

But yet, it was still with some hesitation that he turned, apprehension fizzling in the ginger tang of the air, as Hinata’s scent filled the room in happy strains – and when he turned he was glad he did, Kenma smiling softly, bashfully with his arms open wide. The small omega, stood with shoulders slightly hunched, with hair badly dyed but reminiscent of the time when they all tried to dye their hair when they were fourteen, two toned and close to washing out, and with eyes that ate up his appearance and glinted with happiness and pride. Cunning as well. Mirth, mischief, something entirely different to his somewhat apathetic tone of earlier.

And Kenma’s scent flared suddenly as Hinata ran – not walked, ran, thought Suga, gritting his teeth because fucking hell you just came out of a drop – to sweep up Kenma in his arms and hug him tightly (Suga immediately relaxed). The soft touches of lavender to Hinata’s potent ginger, created a homely atmosphere, one of peace and comfort – of foreign places that create a déjà vu of a place you’ve yet to go. Kenma hugged Hinata back as the shorter lifted him off the floor – feet a few inches above – purring slightly.

“It’s been too fucking long.” Hinata grinned weakly when he put down the other, wiping a stray tear from his face, “Ah fuck. Of course, the first time I see you in forever is the day we have to –“

“It’s good to see you too Sho.” Kenma tilted his head, “Should I say Raven, or is that not happening because we –“

“Stick with the codenames.” Suga voice came out stronger than he intended, but Kenma didn’t even flinch, glancing over to him and nodding, “And it’s good to finally put a name to the face, Rook-san.”

“I wish I could say the same, but your face is pretty well known.” Kenma said dryly, pointedly, and silence enveloped the air. The tension was palpable, as the two stared each other down. Hinata rolled his eyes again.

“Just get along already,” The shorter one hissed, normal smile gone – honeyed eyes flicking from Suga to Kenma. He held a warning in his voice, even it wobbled a bit more than usual, customary of post-drop symptoms, “Rook I know you don’t approve of all of this, but –“

“He could’ve just fucking stuck it out and made a change where he was.”

“Like hell Rook.” Suga shot back, not angry, but not necessarily feeling amicable. Catching Hinata’s glare he sighed, and straightened his back – commanding authority. From his shift in posture, a hint of respect glimmered in Kenma’s eyes, “You know full well what happens to Government omegas and why we can’t stay in in Government. Now, enjoy your reunion.”

He stalked over to Hinata and put out his hand, the younger man handing over his gun immediately.

“I’m going to go clean up some loose ends before the cops come for our asses.”

•••

Tadashi opened a briefcase he never thought he’d be opening, despite the fact that he’d loaded it. Beside him Nishinoya clicked his open as well. The two had become quite close over Tadashi’s brief stay in the Hospital, but the younger still had a lot to learn – so when he glanced nervously over at Tadashi to see if he’d done the right thing, Tadashi nodded softly and smiled.

But when Noya turned back, the smile dissolved back into the bundle of nerves that ate him alive, and his fingers twitched over the wires.

“Okay, Blue-jay.” He started and Noya grinned at his codename. The pup still hadn’t gotten over the thrill of having an alternate identity, someone whose secondary gender was a weapon to use against others, instead of a hindrance, “If you run the wire out of here, I’ll get the clips and the detonator.”

He didn’t want to know how Ennoshita and Oikawa both knew these things. But he trusted them. So, he ran off towards the door, as Nishinoya trailed behind him unspooling wire and watching it haphazardly jump up and down off the floor as the omega walked. Tadashi sprinted to behind the front desk of the boxing gym, retrieving the detonator – and then, his eyes settled on the dirty sign-up sheet, slightly crumpled and names scrawled in blood red ink;

Crow.

  Raven.  

Magpie.

Rook.

  Jay.

 And the fresh names;

Treepie.  

Blue-Jay.

Written all in different fonts, signed with the stamp of the gym and each, a signature – two beside the moniker Raven. There was no way he’d let this die with the gym. As he ran, clutching the detonator to his chest, he stuffed the sheet into this pocket, unwilling to let the physical insistence of their pack die. This was proof of their family. Their real family.

Tadashi and Nishinoya left Warehouse 42 – The Corvids’ Gym, knowing they would be the last people to enter it. Ever.

Across the estate, Natsu trailed wire out of Warehouse 47 – the Hospital, with the knowledge of the exact same thing, as Ennoshita backed out a van filled with blankets, a few portable coolers of food and briefcases of everyone’s go-to weapons. They too would be the last people to enter it.

But for now, they just waited for Suga’s signal – before the fun part of Operation Immolation started.

´•••

Hinata felt the explosions before he heard them – less than a split-second interval apart, but he noticed it regardless. The concrete shuddered beneath his feet, but he sat at the foot of the staircase, so it wasn’t like it mattered. Cold metal pressed into his back, reassuring him that his body was warm and not cooling still – not about to go through another drop. His fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt as he gazed out across the floor, watching Kenma douse the remaining piles of sheets, folders and papers with petroleum, arms shaking with the effort.

And then Ennoshita burst in, followed by a bloody Suga, who upon seeing the look on Hinata’s face quickly explained – “Point-blank. Jugular for maximum blood spatter.”

“Is it done?” Kenma asked softly.

Ennoshita tried to cover his shock at the voice, and he did so quite effectively – only Suga noticing, whose expression didn’t change – then lifted his lips into a polite smile, “Hello Rook-san,” and he relaxed a bit more into his area of expertise, “Yeah, the Gym and the Hospital have been taken care of –“

“I killed all the hostages we have.” Suga interrupted, “So all loose ends, and places we’ve shown the Officers have been taken care of. Now all we need to do is figure out where to go from here. And what to do with Oikawa.”

Natsu and Tadashi entered behind them, Nishinoya closing the door in their wake. All of them together in the same room, concrete beneath their feet, the smell of petroleum masking all their anxious scents. Outside, Hinata knew that it would be a bombsite, two trailing pillars of smoke to alert the Officers to their location and to the lack of time. There was no doubt that they were speeding over here right now, after seeing the smoke. No doubt they were trying to catch them before a high-speed chase could be had.

No.

They had to get out. They had to be safe.

“I’ll stay.” His admittance was quiet but it echoed, and Hinata strengthened his voice to reiterate, “I’ll stay with Oikawa. We’ll go into lockdown.”

“You can’t.” Natsu whispered. Suga nodded behind her, but his eyes lacked conviction – already aware that this option was probably the best. Everyone else looked apprehensive, but Kenma, in the slight downturn of his lips, and slightest furrow of his brows, looked put out by the suggestion.

“Tsu, I have to. Okay?” Hinata stressed carefully, trying not to let his emotions bubble up and influence his argument. He met Suga’s eyes briefly to note the sadness reflected there – but couldn’t hold the other man’s gaze, “I’ve been exposed, so I have to contain the mess it causes. The cops know about Jay and Magpie but now they know about me, and the people that are looking for me, they also know about Crow.” He flicked his eyes to Suga again, then back to Natsu, then around at everybody else, “I’m not going to put everyone else in danger. And I need to protect Oikawa. That’s the least I can do for him now.”

“But –“ Natsu stopped herself, lower lip trembling, “If they – you’ll have to go back.”

“And if I’m with you, you get caught again. I got you out of there once Tsu, I’m not letting you get pulled back in. There’s no way the Duke is getting his hands on you again. Over my dead body.” Hinata’s scent flared in anger, but he pulled Natsu to his chest and held her there letting her know the anger was not to her but the to the man that had kept her under lock and key for the majority of her life.

Kenma looked away. He’d helped them get out, and he knew their story – but to see them now, emotions raw and on the surface, tangible beings that he could reach out and touch, not just faces on a screen, it was nearly too much to see his best friend’s eyes narrowed in malice but filling with tears. Ennoshita also had the decency to look away, though he was never sure what to do when Hinata, someone he knew to flip between two extremes, anchored in the middle of sadness and anger.

“If I let you stay – “ Hinata scoffed at Suga’s comment. The silver-haired man looked at him pleadingly, emotion swimming in his eyes and Hinata shut up immediately, all of a sudden becoming all too aware of how thin the ice Suga was walking on to keep himself together. His two best friends, his brothers that had helped him survive so many times, were, after all sacrificing themselves for his safety. The omega – both omegas actually – blinked back tears and when Suga spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion, “If I let you stay, and if they find you, please promise me that you’ll give them hell okay? And promise me you’ll say nothing.”

“I’d rather cut off my own foot and eat it than betray you Crow. Believe me, trust me.” Hinata’s eyes burned their promise into each of their hearts, his declaration of loyalty suddenly lifting the atmosphere in a way that now only spoke of grim determination to fight to the bitter end – for each other, for Suga, even if some of them had no idea why they would go to such lengths. But it didn’t matter. They were family. They were a pack.

It was only natural.

It was only instinct.

“So,” Ennoshita cleared his throat, despite his inferior position in the actual hierarchy, barriers had melted and they had all become brothers-in-arms, “I’ve got a van parked out front, with everything we may need. No time to gather trinkets of anything, it’s not suited to high-speed car chases. Just –“

“We’ll figure it out on the way. The sooner we can get on the road, the better.” Suga pressed, voice commanding authority, “The cops no doubt would have seen the pillars of smoke ten minutes ago. I’d give them another eight minutes to arrive, but we need to leave now. Hinata, stay violent for me please. And try to stay safe.”

Hinata nodded and watched as Suga stepped forward, then buried his face into the crook of Suga’s neck as the older man scented him softly. Arms wrapped around him, more than a singular person’s, more arms than he could count – and all of sudden they were huddling and scenting, the entire pack. Except Kenma, who stood off to the side with a small smile on his face that spoke of his contentment to stand there and wait his turn.

The scent of honeysuckle from Suga, honey from Tadashi, sweet ginger from Natsu, black ink from Ennoshita, and pear from Noya lingered on his skin and his clothes as they stepped back – even if he himself couldn’t smell them, each person respectively saying their whispered goodbyes in his ear – though trying to make it more of a ‘see you soon’ rather than a ‘goodbye’. For hope’s sake.

Kenma lingered as Suga did as well, the silver-haired man waiting for Kenma by the door. As Hinata swept up another hug from the usually inexpressive omega, this time attempting to scent Kenma rather than Kenma scenting him – though the shorter did reciprocate eventually, he whispered, “You’ll just have to get used to that. He cares a lot about family, and now your family too.”

“I don’t need –“

“It’s not pity. It’s care.” Hinata lifted his head from where it was buried in Kenma’s neck, and set the man down softy. He felt a frown grow on his face, and then as he pulled Kenma in for another hug – because it really had been too long – he couldn’t help but murmur, “Look after Suga for me will you? I’ll catch up to you when I can, but he has a tendency to overwork. And look after yourself. Kuroo will be fine. Eventually, but he will be.”

Kenma nodded a small nod.

When they parted, the two parted with dry eyes, and objectives for both of them. And when the omegas left, they left with heavy hearts – not for the destruction and the dent they’d caused in their gang (because they knew this day was inevitable), but for the two people they’d left behind. And despite all of Hinata’s reasoning and all of the rightness in his arguments and the sense that it made, in Suga’s heart it still beat with a rhythm of wrong. It felt like a betrayal, it felt like a goodbye. Forever.

In the dark in which they drove, all that illuminated his tears were the passing street lights, and the headlights of the oncoming headlights of the police cars.

Police cars that drove right past.

Police cars that drove towards Hinata and Oikawa – the two omegas that had stayed by his side through thick and thin. And here he was leaving them.  

Suga cleared his throat noisily, and glanced in the rear-view mirror, watching not only the crestfallen faces of his family, but also the retreating taillights of the cars – speeding off towards the remains of the Gym, “So, where do we go from here? We have no more safehouses left, and the suite that Takeda usually rents out isn’t available because he’s carrying a shipment across the ocean right now.”

There was silence.

“Ennoshita do you know any –“ He started again, but was interrupted by someone who he least expected to speak up.

“I know a place.” Tadashi whispered, “I don’t know how welcoming they’ll be. But I know they won’t rat us out.”

That was enough for Suga.

Though for Tadashi, well, he wasn’t sure what compelled him to say that. He did know a place that much was true, but he wasn’t sure if the man would even want to see him. He didn’t know if he wanted to bring up the bad memories, the trauma that either of them had. And yet, as he thought of the doctor’s hands – guiding him through the halls, normally gloved but at that time bare for him to see the years of scar tissue built up, roughened and calloused; otherwise, kind and caring, and only pushing when he had to, making sure the anaesthetic was the right concentration every time so he didn’t feel a lick of pain – maybe the doctor would be nice enough to let them stay.

“Tadashi.” Alone now in the van, their names were free game, but when Kenma spoke from beside him it still startled him slightly. Though maybe just from his thoughts, rather than the use of his name, “Are you sure they won’t rat us out? Not even after my father puts a notice up for me?”

Tadashi shook his head, and hint of anxiety that had been rising destroyed by the vulnerability in Kenma’s tone – so different from the normal apathy, “No. He’s an omegan doctor, and you know that they don’t allow omegas into those sorts of courses.”

“So, he’s like me then.” Kenma whispered, because omegas didn’t really get top marks or even into computer information courses either. It was well accepted for the best thing an omega could be was a trophy wife for a rich corporate business man, or if their goals were high enough – wife of nobility. Other than that, they were expected to be nurses, assistants, shop keeps, people with an alphan superior to keep them in line, to own things in their name.

“Not exactly. He’s – it’s difficult to say.” Tadashi struggled for the right words, but he noticed how their whispered conversation was now being listened into by the rest of the family, and he noticed the drying eyes of Ennoshita and Suga from where they glanced back from the front seats in the rear-view mirror. Something strangled his chest at their attention, but he realised the calming effect his and Kenma’s words were having and somehow that enable him to continue, “He’s a foreigner. He registered for the course before they realised he was an omega, but by the time they tried to expel him from the course, an anonymous figure paid all his bills and said that they had already scouted him, because unlike the university they could see his talent.”

“Who is he?” Kenma already had a faint inkling, his heart sinking further down as he realised what possible connections Tadashi and the man had and how they had their connections.

“When I knew him, he called himself Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

And the hollow pit in Kenma’s stomach widened to a chasm, because knowledge while a blessing was also a curse. Even with his normal avoidance of touch, he couldn’t help but lay a hand on Tadashi’s shoulder, and give him a knowing look. The other omega took his hand from his shoulder and placed it in his lap, squeezing the cold fingers with his own, “Thank you Kenma, just. I… Please don’t say anything.”

•••

Hinata sat in front of Oikawa’s door. He couldn’t smell the omega’s heat – he couldn’t smell anything except the scent of petroleum wafting up from below. The broken computers, the broken desks and broken filing cabinets paled in comparison to the destruction on the wall – the large map that Ennoshita had spray painted there now mostly bare, with papers strewn around the bottom from where he and Kenma had ripped them off. And the pile that he was instructed to set on fire as soon as he heard the first bang on the roller door.

Those instructions ran a loop in his mind, as he refused to acknowledge the little licks of nervousness that creeped the edge of his consciousness, and clutched the edges of his stomach. This day was inevitable. Everyone had known that. He just didn’t think he would coincide this with a reunion between adopted brothers.

Hinata tossed the knife he held up in the air and listened to the sirens pass.

Listened to the closing of car doors and the loud shouting of people – no doubt trying to put out the smouldering wreckage of the Hospital and the Gym.

Listened to Oikawa’s soft whimpers behind the door, the gasps and the huffs of discontent.

Listened to the scraping of the knife against the metal walkway.

Listened to the clack, as he loaded his gun.

Would they be safe? Did the officers know where they were? Did they only think that the Hospital and the Gym were theirs?

And then, because he was listening, he heard something faint. From down across the floor – behind the door and the roller door. He heard a shout of, “This is Warehouse 46.” And the door started to shudder.

Hinata immediately flew down the steps of the loft, not bothering to hide the noise his shoes made on them, loud clangs and creaking echoing. Vaulting the last few, skidding on the concrete – nearly falling over, but managing to twist and turn and manoeuvre himself at the last minute so he did a complete 145° turn (nearly 180° but he didn’t fancy going back up the stairs), and ran towards the pile. Fire. Fire – the only purpose.

The door clattered again. More voices. Closer. They were getting closer – and so was he, picking up the flamethrower he had produced from the depths of his room – from amongst his trove of treasures. Closer. Running, supporting the canister with one hand, the trigger taut by the other. Which he pulled, and the pile grew tenfold as the petroleum caught alight, throwing harsh shadows on the now bare walls, papers fluttering from white to glowing red to ash, crumpling and drifting on the hot updraft the fire created.

But he didn’t have time to appreciate the fire, not when the whoosh and subsequent rush was countered by increasingly loud bangs.

Hinata grabbed his gun that Suga had left on the desk, clicked the safety switch off (why it was on in the first place he didn’t know), slipped his knife back into its scabbard on his hip, and waited. Watching the door. Slipping slowly back upstairs, eyes trained on that one place that seemed to be the origins for all the banging.

He didn’t even question how they knew.

Now was not the time for questions.

The door burst open and police officers swarmed into the room. More than they had recruited. Different uniforms as well. Everyone was clad in black, but some peoples were accented in orange, and others red.

Hinata had a split second of privacy to realise this before someone noticed him – and police came running up the stairs. Full tactical gear. Guns. Red dots pointed at his midriff. Sorry Suga, I don’t think I can give much of a fight.

A whimper slid out from the door his back was now pressed to, as the police surrounded him, and Hinata was suddenly thankful that the tactical gear came with gas masks. Though distantly he worried what would happen to the Officer, Oikawa would latch himself to. Because there was no way any of them would be getting out of this, this time.

“Hinata,” It was Daichi, low timbre, rumbling growl. The omega wouldn’t’ve been able to tell from looking at the potentially overly dressed man, “Put down the gun. You’re surrounded.”

“I’m very fucking well aware of that thanks, Mr Captain.” He couldn’t keep the wobble from his voice, but his hands were steady as he let go of the gun and listened to it clatter. Though, when it hit the ground, the gun went off – shooting the unlucky Officer in the leg and by the scream it would either be Officer Kyoutani or Officer Tanaka, either of which he hazarded a guess tried very hard to muffle their screams and came out more as growls. Daichi growled lowly – was he the alpha directly in front of him? – but Hinata only returned a sickly-sweet smile, putting his arms in the air slowly, “I put down the gun, just like you told me too.”

Oikawa would be proud.

Suga would be too.

His heart clenched.

He couldn’t look after both of them properly, he couldn’t protect Oikawa from the horrors of his childhood, he wouldn’t be able to stop any of his alphas coming to claim him and take him home. Such was the law.

Hinata clenched his jaw, listening to the hiss of gas, and the louder hiss of fire extinguisher down below. Behind him, behind the door he could hear the louder moans of pain and pleasure endlessly mixed together. But then the officer in front of him started talking again, and he was forced to narrow in on the voice (it was Daichi).

“Hinata Shoyou you are under arrest for the murder of multiple people, torture, arson and the illegal trafficking of omegas.”

The omega sighed and let the cold metal cuffs slam over his hands – let them tightened until they bit into his skin, let them pull him from in front of Oikawa’s door. And he watched as two heavily masked men with red accents to their uniforms disappear into the depths of the probably scent-ridden room, and pull from it a debauched looking Oikawa. Still in his sweaty, stinking clothes, hair matted to his forehead and eyes glazed over. Hands cuffed behind him, whimpers beginning and dying in his throat, not even having the energy to make any more noise, to overcome with shock at the change in scenery. The two officers that had disappeared into the room, one ridiculously tall, the other short – like himself, stood either side, gripping the omega by the arm and pulled him roughly down the stairs with them.  

The officer with his hand clenched tight around Hinata’s arm didn’t move. Hinata growled.

And then another Officer with red accents on his uniform moved into view, one whose outline he knew perfectly. One with whom he was intimately familiar with and knew – well, used to know – inside and out. Kuroo leaned down and looked him in the eye, the cat-like gold the only thing visible of the man’s face, “Can you tell me why Lord Nohebi’s mistress is with you please? Why?”

And then Hinata was being shoved down the stairs as well, tripping over his feet as the alphan officer walking him took too large of a step, and nearly fell. Righted steadily by another unwelcome hand on his other arm, he was being frogmarched slowly out. Following in Oikawa’s distant footsteps. Anger turned pitifully in his stomach.

“You were going to be a Lord, Hinata! You were going to stand by the royal’s side! Like your father!” Kuroo yelled out from behind him, “You were going to be just like him – why did you have to run?”

Oh. For fuck’s sake. Hinata, with all the gracefulness of a rabid beast, twisted around to glare at the man still stuck on the landing. And as he yelled, he couldn’t help the angry tears that spilled over his face. How fucking dare he, bringing up his father like that, “Because! I wanted to find a place where I could fly without alpha’s trying to cage me in. Da was an alpha Kuroo, and you know too fucking well that omegas don’t get the same treatment you do.”

 It didn’t take a genius to know which omega Hinata was thinking about, not when that omega’s absence had etched its way onto Kuroo’s heart as a wound he longed to fix.

“Where is he? WHERE IS KENMA?”

Hinata shrugged, anger leaving him and a cold emptiness taking its place. He smiled a soft smile and said simply, “I don’t know.”

What would happen now? Hinata didn’t particularly care what happened to him. Not now. All he could think of Oikawa and Kenma and Suga and he hoped that the latter two got away safe, and he hoped that none of Oikawa’s bondmates tried to come claim him again while the omega was in heat because – unlike Suga, the alphas would be no contest to the unfortunate people bonded to his brother.

Would he be forced to return?

He hoped not.

A door was yanked open and he was pulled from his thoughts again suddenly to see the inside of a van, but instead of the normal sharp corners and dark interior, blankets were strewn about and a shivering Oikawa was wrapping himself in them – sobbing softly as he spasmed again.

“You’ll be in here.” And Hinata recognised the Officer that had pulled him along as Officer Kyoutani (the one he shot must’ve been Officer Tanaka then).

When the van eventually shuddered to life, Hinata and Oikawa were wrapped in the tightest embrace they could manage with their respectively cuffed hands. Oikawa was kissing his neck, running teeth and tongue over his scent gland softly – but in a way that Hinata knew the man was trying to comfort the distress he sensed somehow in his heat. And Hinata rubbed the bottom of his chin along the omega’s head softly, both exposing his neck for Oikawa’s better access, but also meaning it to be comforting – even if he couldn’t properly scent. In that moment, in that split second, his resolve hardened, and in Oikawa’s display of undying love and care, Hinata knew, he would die before he let Oikawa get hurt again. He would die before he let anyone in his family get hurt.

To protect.

To ensure their future collectively.

He was glad he wasn’t the leader of the gang, because unlike Suga who took everything into consideration, Hinata could feel himself sinking to his instincts. He would do anything. Anything, to make sure he and Oikawa made it out of this mess alive and safe. When he got desperate he got ruthless. He got murderous. He would kill the world just to ensure Oikawa could spread his quips and jabs to a brand-new day. No one would be stealing his brothers smile again.

This was their future that they would choose.

He refused to go back to the past.

Chapter Text

Daichi stared at the men through the one-way glass, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. He couldn’t – no, it was impossible. He just couldn’t believe his eyes. Despite having yelled the name, multiple times within that dark, havocked warehouse – the name still didn’t sit. It just couldn’t be. Surely not.

“So, you’re telling me,” he spoke in tones that trembled and quivered in barely concealed shock and anger, his scent flaring in the room – colliding with everyone else’s shocked aromas. The only scent that spoke of something more than shock was Kuroo, who hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from the omega since entering the station, “That the man in there is actually from Nobility?”

Daichi hadn’t had many run-ins with Nobility, his time spent with a higher-up limited to the more practical sides of the Government – namely Kenma’s (he cringed internally thinking of the betrayal he’d overheard) father, the Department of Defence and of course the bed-headed men standing beside him. He didn’t doubt Kuroo’s words, because as he was reminded by Kageyama, and practically the entire Nekoma units steely gazes, that the man had never been this frantic. They’d never seen him this shocked, of with eyes this red-rimmed.

Kuroo took a deep breath, “Yeah. He’s the heir for the House of Hinata.”

“Wait.” Tsukkishima blinked. He’d managed to get back there in time to smell the heat rolling off the white van they’d bundled the omegas into and it had taken a great load of self-control to not let his instincts cloud his brain. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “Are we talking about the same Hinata. Shoyou Hinata is the son of that Hinata?”

Tsukkishima pointed a finger at the man cuffed to the table on the other side of the one-way mirror. The orange-haired man had lost all fight in his eyes, chest rising heavily, the taller brown-haired omega curled up beside him on another metal chair, yet the majority of his body somehow remained languidly laid over the others. It was an odd tangle of limbs, and the pallor Hinata had taken on was not lost on the Officers. His chest was heaving, and they could see the taller omega’s mouth moving in some form of consolation – but the mics between rooms were disabled, and the Officers didn’t know what they were saying.

The quiet chatter in the room fell silent as Kuroo gasped, and everyone, not just Tsukki, but everyone turned to look upon the room.

Hinata had slumped forward, gasping. They could see the shivers racking his body, and this time the taller omega, hair still plastered to his head, sweat still dripping from his overheated body, latched tightly onto the other – arms clanging in the cuffs that bound him, but otherwise wrapping around the other, humming and whilst the Officers couldn’t really tell, Oikawa unknowingly caught Iwaizumi’s gaze through the glass and the alpha got the distinct impression that he was purring.

Tsukkishima’s question had fallen on deaf ears.

Another one filled to take its place, “Asahi, you’re trained in healthcare.” It was more of a statement, but Kageyama followed it up quickly, his face shifting from a frown to a thoughtful scowl, “Can you tell us what’s happening?”

Asahi stood the closest to the glass, staring at the two as if they were the most interesting things on the planet. His soft demeanour had fallen to reveal someone who knew exactly what they were doing – someone who, for once, was the most qualified to answer the question, and held the next few minutes in his hands. He watched the way that Hinata let his head drop to his hands, the way he gasped for air, and the lifeless look that clouded the omega’s eyes whenever they darted in their general direction. And he also noted the way the other omega was reacting – because omegas were fiercely social, and their genetics were wired to tap in and help their omegan brethren. He watched the omega – the purebred that was in heat for god’s sake – push back against the strongest force on the planet, a heat that should be almost external in the way that no one could control theirs, to comfort Hinata. Touch. A lot of touch. Words, probably soft. Hinata’s eyes, unfocused. Oikawa’s mouth and throat, vibrating, chest rattling as he purred.

And it all clicked into place.

“He’s experiencing post-drop symptoms.”

“Isn’t a drop something that omegas can die from?” Kageyama’s question cut through the uproar the statement had caused. He’d never seen an omega drop, but his sister’s hushed conversations had imprinted a horrible image into his mind. Iwaizumi was shocked, Daichi felt his heart drop and Kuroo walked closer to the glass than Asahi had, and rested his head upon it. It took everything the alpha had not to let the tears drop, because he knew exactly what had caused the drop – because he had smelt the distress, seen the shock and the shaking hands, heard the wobble and weakness to the voice. But he still didn’t know why. One of the Nekoma unit members who had followed them into the room, approached the alpha and lay a hand on a trembling shoulder.

“Yes, it is. But as I said, post-drop. Meaning he’s survived, and the other omega is in the process of bringing him to a stable mindset again.”

“Even though Raven is in heat?” Iwaizumi asked, eyebrows drawing together. From his experience with purebreds, they weren’t supposed to be able to fight the effects of their heat. If anything, they felt the effects of it more strongly, unable to relieve themselves without external help. Fate’s cruel hands stopping their own.

And to do it to this extent, it spoke bounds about their bond.

“It’s odd but –“

“Sho always did like protecting those around him.” Kuroo sighed and let his head drop back from the glass sending a weak smile to those around him, but eyes not leaving the omega. Hinata’s hand, cuffed and clinking, and – was it rubbing raw? – was stroking the other omega’s head as the taller was hit with another wave of heat. His heart swelled. Despite the steely look of defiance and the smirk of pure contempt that had danced across his face when he’d dropped the gun and defied the law, Hinata was still Hinata, Shoyou was still Shoyou. His head was pounding and he could feel the turmoil of emotions bubbling in his chest, waiting to burst forth in tsunamic like strength, but he was of Noble blood, he was an alpha, and he knew when and where to cry. Here was not the place. Here was the place to learn, and to prepare himself for whatever happened next. And by the looks of it, these Karasuno Officers in front of him had known Hinata for at least part of the eight years he’d been missing.

For the first time he tore his gaze from the glass, and turned to stare down Daichi. The alpha returned it levelly.

“I have a preposition.” Kuroo said, trying to keep his voice from cracking – why did he have to feel so much? – plastering a smirk poorly on his face. Daichi inclined his head, and Iwaizumi’s eyes flicked from the both of them and then back to the glass. The rest of them merely watched as the two alphas bristled at each other and the tension thickened, “We both have information that the other wants. You a little of the eight years he’s been missing, and me a little of the background you so desperately want to know.”

“As if you’re not just as desperate.” Tsukkishima murmured under his breath, and Kageyama stifling a snort beside him was eternally thankful no one else could hear the quip. Though the tall silver-haired Nekoma Officer’s eyes did widen and mouth fight against the upward quirking of his lips.

“Are you proposing that we exchange information?” Daichi asked, and then his words rumbled into a growl, “You know the last time we did that; it didn’t go down so well.”

“Are you referencing our first and only year of co-captaincy?” Kuroo asked, eyes glinting, finding an opening to get out at least some of his emotions, to vent – just a little. He knew it was cruel, but he couldn’t help but wrench one of the knives from his heart to stab it in someone else’s, just to relieve his pain, “Or are you referencing the failed deal you struck with the Corvids.”

It didn’t work. His heart ached. But he smirked regardless at the rising of hackles of every Karasuno Officer in the room. He could see a vein pop on Daichi’s forehead, but the other alpha didn’t act on any primal instincts that surely would be rising. 

“We can’t waste any more time.” It was Tsukkishima, not Daichi that spoke next. Everyone turned to look at him, even Kageyama was slightly surprised. It wasn’t as if he didn’t speak, but the alpha never contributed constructively to conversation, never really tried to add to the conversation unless absolutely necessary.

But Tsukkishima could feel the itch under his skin, everyone was just wasting fucking time, and with every passing moment the group that had slipped through their fingers, who’s information teased his waking brain with thoughts that spun and spun until an unintelligible tapestry was woven left for his brain to puzzle over for hours and hours on end, that group was running further and further away. If only they could see that! The fuckers should be on edge, should be as itchy for knowledge and knowing and control as he was, not trying to decide who was the better alpha through verbal combat (despite their reputations, verbally speaking, Kuroo was more sly and outright offensive while Daichi was consistently better at holding the fort, it should have been obvious).  With each passing moment the conversation from last night ate away at him, and thoughts about Tadashi continued to haunt him.

He shot Daichi a stare, one that reminded Daichi that despite being his subordinate Tsukkishima was not fucking around, “We only have two of the eight known members of the Corvids sitting in that holding cell. The ringleader Crow is still out there. If you want to puzzle out his identity and location, we need to talk to Ra – Hinata. We need to know exactly what happened.”

Then Tsukkishima looked to Kuroo and the other alpha found himself immediately teetering dangerously on the edge of sinking into the piercing gaze, the light caught in the pupils looking like the imperfect perfections of the moon. But not his moon. Kenma wasn’t here. His back straightened subconsciously, “You want to find out what Hinata did in the eight years right? You want to find Kenma? We need to know exactly what happened.

Stop posturing and get your fucking acts together.” Tsukkishima was growling now, eye alight with a flame that Daichi had only seen through the cracks in the door when the blond-haired alpha was particularly worked up about a case, or study pacing and muttering and frustrated but adamant to see whatever he was working on through.

Silence fell over the room.

“Ye –“ Kuroo started, probably to quip back or do something to recover a bit of pride – one of the only things he had left, but was cut off when someone’s scent began to fill the room, unidentifiable in the muddles of alphan scent, but distinct and sharp and calling for attention nonetheless.

“We need to move Raven.” It might have been Asahi’s scent; with the way his back was rigid and stiff and his eyes were locked on the men through the glass. Fists clenched at his sides, “Before he gets Hinata affected as well. The situation would be life-threatening if he goes into heat this soon after a drop.”

“Even though he can’t…” Kageyama trailed off, feeling the eyes of Nekoma on his back.

Asahi nodded, “The pheromones will affect him regardless.”

“Kuroo were you aware that Hinata has no sense of smell?” Daichi fixed Kuroo with a considered stare that he hoped was not too direct, lest he stir another fight and inevitably set off Tsukki – whose eyes were flitting from place to place at frightening speeds as the sound of his anger and brain tick-tocked throughout the room – but also enough to let the other alpha know who was really in charge. It was his police station after all, this was still their case. A memory of silver hair and mocking grin filled his mind for a split second, an exception to that rule, memory of the rigged deal hot and fresh in his heart.

“I… no.” Kuroo looked shocked, “Really?”

A hand ran through his bedhead, and his eyes went from returning Daichi’s nonverbal attempt at proving authority, to resting back on his adopted brother. Who was now slightly red-faced and still half-gasping, the taller-brown haired omega still whispering – but looking more like he was tumbling sweet nothings, sweet cravings rather than consolations. Daichi watched the emotions flit across his face, and then the blood drain from his face as some sort of realisation dawned.

“What is it?”

“Something must have happened to him while he was…” Kuroo shook his head, and his eyebrows drew together. Kageyama, noting the looks on the Captain’s faces and infinitely curious, sidled closer to them, at the same slipping a hand into his pocket and flicking on an audio recorder he’d grabbed from the office on the way.

In the background, a lot falling to the wayside but tension building nonetheless, the Nekoma unit discussed with Asahi the most appropriate way to get him out. For a moment Kageyama’s ears snagged on a piece of conversation.

“Lev, why can’t you and Yaku take care of the omega?” A loud rather plain voice boomed over the rest, “Bonded couples aren’t affected by… right?”

The momentary silence that lingered between his word, spoke more than the words ‘heats and ruts’ ever could. Kageyama could already feel himself getting slightly uncomfortable at the topic, and he could smell the intensity of the embarrassment radiating off the only omega in the room, Yaku’s voice rushing to fill the pause, “Like fucking hell, Tora ya dumb shit. The guy’s obviously not a normal omega. Be glad you had your fucking scent masks on, or you’d be rutting up against the table over there overcome by your instincts. His room reeked of his scent, and even with protective gear…” His words became quieter as his embarrassed and angry scent mellowed quickly and retreated to a smaller, meeker stench of arousal – so faint that Kageyama, with his sensitive nose, could barely pick it up, “… god it was intense.”

“He’s a purebred.” Iwaizumi huffed, and Kageyama found himself tuning in more to their conversation and less to Daichi and Kuroo’s. The dark-haired, blue-eyed alpha remained in the middle of the two groups, allowing his hearing to focus in on Iwaizumi’s bothered tone, “Of course his scent is going to be more intense. His body is trying it’s hardest to be desirable for anyone really, and no doubt he’s been conditioned against using heat suppressants, scent suppressants or anything that could hinder his chances. In fact, it’s a wonder he’s still semi-conscious, purebreds normally would be unconscious at this state of their heat without any outside help. Their bodies can handle it, but their minds can’t.”

Silence deafened the room once more. Even Daichi stopped trying to pry Kuroo, from what Kageyama now realised, was a deep dark void of spiralling thoughts, the alpha connecting dots frantically in his mind but with no voice to share them. Across the room, closer to where Iwaizumi was standing, Yaku clenched his hands into fists, feeling a weird sense of rage bubble behind his sternum, something fierce arising from his omega self to protect his brethren. Lev slung a hand silently around the smaller omega, discreetly pulling him closer – but unable to calm him, as the alpha’s own disgust filled him.

“Normally?” Hissed Asahi, the large but normally docile alpha, straightening his back to lift himself to his true terrifyingly intimidating height. Trained first as a paramedic, specialising in omega care (he was one of four people in the class, as opposed to the alphan specialisation that had over one hundred and fifty students), he knew, he knew nearly everything there was to know about omegas. But purebreds were extremely rare, illegal and any information tended to be covered up by the people who bred and used them. How did…? “What connection to you have to the breeding circles Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi growled low and harsh, “Not whatever your scents are implicating. Before I became Vice, I was on the Capital Investigating Team. Our job was to locate illegalities, particularly breeding circles and free purebreds.”

“So, you were part of the team that Miwa always talked about?” Kageyama’s voice was probing, and some of the Officers of Nekoma frowned upon hearing the name. Everyone knew who Miwa was, called the “Demon of Justice” in news articles – but no one had really had the thought to connect the bluntness of Officer Kageyama to the exacting nature of Miwa Kageyama. And the name wasn’t even that common.

“Yes.” Iwaizumi grit his teeth, restraining his scent with all of his effort, “I didn’t tell anyone, because no one needed to know.”

“Until now.” Daichi said.

“Yes Captain.” The ‘Captain’ was mocking, but also remained serious, “It shouldn’t be that shocking.”

“Well then aren’t you the person best equipped to remove the Raven, so we can get a move on and actually start questioning Hinata?” Tsukkishima smirked, but still looked put out, glancing down at his watch every few seconds. Behind the glass, Oikawa had begun rutting against his chair, and the way his lips were parted could only mean his moans were increasing in frequency and volume. Hinata’s face was flushed pink, but his eyes remained slightly lifeless and his hands still shook. Asahi, who had followed the sinking feeling in his gut, noticed this and couldn’t help but shake his head.

He sighed and stared Iwaizumi right in the eye, “Do you have experience handling purebreds in heat?”

Iwaizumi didn’t back down, nodding once and firmly but didn’t elaborate. It would take too much to voice the horrible things that happened to the purebred omegas to the room. Did he really want Lev and Yaku, a couple both respectively raised in relative comfort and blissfully ignorant to the ways of the downtrodden, to know that often the days purebreds spent in heat, pseudo-heat or not, outnumbered the days they spent lucid? No. Not particularly.

“Are you certain you can keep your instincts in check?”

“I’ll need a scent mask and scent suppressants.” One to cancel out other’s scents, one to cancel out his own. He didn’t answer the question because he was sure his face spoke volumes – and it did. Even Tsukkishima, who could only see Iwaizumi’s back, saw the tensing of the back and shoulders and determination settle dominantly.

“Then let’s go.” Tsukkishima opened the door, and walked out briskly, Asahi and Iwaizumi following him. There was no fucking time to waste.

The room was left for everyone to stew in their thoughts, but Daichi turned to Kuroo again, and Kageyama free from the distractions, closed the distance between the two and himself.

Lev, with all of the Karasuno operatives either gone or otherwise occupied, pulled Yaku closer to himself, letting his hand travel from the omega’s waist to his shoulder and then his fingers travel from the omega’s shoulder to the curve of his neck, leaving feather light touches on the omega’s neck, trying to relieve some of the tension he felt through their bond and the contact between them. It didn’t work. The alpha could feel a foreign emotion coil in his stomach – noting it as a deep burning anger and noting it to be the emotion of his mate. Lev sighed, and let his hand drop back down to Yaku’s waist.

Then he turned to the rest of the Nekoma unit, the three operatives, who aside from Yamamoto’s outburst earlier had been eerily quiet. It was only then he realised, his attention fully on them that he saw their eyes, and growing purple bags beneath them. It was well-gone midnight.

“Go home guys. Captain-san will inform you if anything happens. Go back to your mates, and children. Nothing of note will happen in the next five hours.” Yaku urged, suddenly, eyes – which he didn’t realised had closed when Lev pulled him into the warm embrace – snapped open, feeling the surge of pity from his alpha. Not directed at the omega, but at their comrades. Lev, a new poorly-trained recruit, had no authority, but Yaku had been by Kuroo’s side since before the beginning, and his voice roused the men. He could feel his alpha’s pride through the bond, and his inner omega purr. In the omegas’ opinions in the room opposite, he should’ve found it barbaric, off putting, restricting, but instead he just felt safe and warm. Yaku liked – no, he loved the feeling, and that was his conscious decision.

“But –“

“Inuoka.” All it took was his name to drip off Yaku’s lips, before Inuoka straightened and nodded. Despite the secondary gender, the authority – the difference in experience and age was clear. After all, hadn’t Kuroo made it a point when they first started as a Unit, that his brother and best friend were omegas and if any of them showed some stupid classist, sexist bullshit they’d never see the light of day again? (Everyone knew Kuroo could back the statement up as well, his money was old money, and he could easily get away with anything, given briberies to the right people were made). And Yaku was scary.

The three left, promptly.

And Lev could still feel the tension in his mate, but now alone could lower his voice and ask, “Okay?”

“Stop being fucking considerate, I’ll be fine.” He snapped, but his heart wasn’t in it. His heart was very much elsewhere, pinching in anxiety and wondering exactly why it felt this way. Why he wanted to go in and start scenting the smaller omega – despite having no relation to him at all. Stupid instincts. And the purebred? Yaku wasn’t a crier, but right now his tear ducts were starting to claim otherwise. His stomach lurched softly.

“You’re not.”

“I am –“

“You’re not –“ And then raising his voice – “Captain, we’re going to go find a convenience store and pick up some food for the stayers. It’s past midnight, but if we’re going to do the questioning tonight, food would be good.”

Kuroo’s gaze snapped to Lev’s, and the alpha nodded more stiffly than he would have normally. The words he spoke fell staggered on the air, and everyone politely ignored the thickness of his voice, “Good. Yes. Maybe coffee as well? I doubt we’re going to sleep until well past sunrise.”

“Get donuts.” Kageyama said quickly, “Iwaizumi’s gonna be pissed after he takes care of Raven, and he’s partial to a sugary treat. Don’t get anything strawberry flavoured though, Tsukkishima hates it.”

Daichi knew very well Tsukkishima didn’t hate strawberry things, but kept his mouth shut regardless, also knowledgeable of the intense rivalry (and begrudging friendship) between them and not wanting to really get involved.

“Will do.” A flash of a smile, before Lev was pulling Yaku to the door and pushing it open. For a moment, everything was normal and this could have been a normal day at the office, but then the door shut and there was movement in their peripheries, and they were reminded of the precarious scenario they found themselves in.

Daichi, for the third and hopefully final time… turned to Kuroo. Hopefully nothing would interrupt them this time. Kageyama watched on pensively. It was just them three, and it was time for Kuroo to spill whatever had made him so hesitant to begin with.

“Hinata doesn’t have a sense of smell.” Daichi reiterated slowly, gesturing for Kuroo to take a seat on one of the neglected chairs that had been pushed to a wall in the haste to get everybody inside earlier. To make it not seem like a threat, or a challenge of Kuroo’s alphan, prideful nature, Daichi pulled a chair for himself and sat down first. Following courtesy rules, Kageyama and Kuroo followed suit, “You realised something earlier didn’t you? What happened?”

Kuroo took a deep, shuddering breath. All of a sudden he felt the need to force air into his body, as his chest burned. Memories flew to him unbidden, and the guilt for not being there churned his stomach acid like it was water. He ran a hand through his bedhead, making it worse, remembering the words from Hinata’s memorial – we’ll take your burdens so that you may find peace where you rest and then another smaller phrase that slapped him across the face and punched the bruises of his heart… your pain is mine. It was time for him to face the pain. He ran his hand nervously through his hair once more, this time catching a knot in its mess, but tugging it through, ignoring the sting of his scalp.

“I guess I should start at the beginning shouldn’t I?”

Daichi inclined his head but didn’t say anything. Kageyama remained statue still, face impassive but eyes storming with emotions that when Kuroo looked into them he just couldn’t quite place. Besides, the alpha didn’t want to look at the blue, it reminded him of the ocean, that reminded him of the smell, which reminded him of Kenma. And when he was reminded of Kenma, all he wanted to do was run, cry, fight, tear the skin off his body and burn the world so the artificial light would disappear and he could see the stars again, his stars.

“Shoyou is of House Hinata, son of the pirate that explored the Southern Seas, and conquered the Aoba Islands – most notably Aoba Joshai. Lord Hinata protected our seas, and trade routes for years, and he’s the one responsible for setting up trade deals with Fukurodani.”

“So, he’s the son of that Hinata? Isn’t –“ Daichi started.

“Yes, Sho’s high nobility. His family have always been close to royalty. The late King and the late Lord Hinata were childhood friends. And Lord Hinata would have become an advisor to King Kita had he not chosen the path of seafaring.” Talking about this was easy, because this was factual, this was procrastinating the real talk. He had to face the memories.

“When Shoyou was ten, his father died. Their ship rolled into dock, burnt and blackened, and only three people stumbled off. They’d been attacked by pirates who had formed a grudge against him. He’d died protecting his crew. A true noble’s death.” Kuroo allowed himself a small smile, but stopped when the words tumbled from his lips next, “I’ll never forget the look on his face when Takeda, one of the survivors, took him in his arms and told him the news. He just broke.

“That was the first time I truly smelt his distress.”

Kageyama distantly wondered if the scent of the young pup would be similar to the conquering scent he’d first stumbled across the warehouse. Rancid, acrid, burning. Kuroo omitted the fact that he’d sworn that day to never let the omega’s scent turn that acrid again, to keep him safe and protected and loved. To give him a home.

“His mother, who couldn’t speak a word of our language, and being an omega, had to raise him as an heir, but also a future wife. It was hard, and she was too kind for life of a noble, but she tried her best, and Shoyou helped her the best he could. Two months into the process, when she was reaching out to potential suitors, she went missing.” Kuroo swallowed thickly but he soldiered on, regardless of the lump growing in his throat, “She was never found, and Shoyou was adopted into my family. The alpha that had last visited was proclaimed his suitor by law, and it was through the court cases of his adoption, and working out the legalities of his courtship with his suitor that he introduced me to Kenma.”

“Who was his suitor?” Daichi prompted, eyes flashing at the obvious avoidance of the name.

“Lord Nohebi. Just – we have time. Let me get there.” Kuroo pressed his hands to his eyes and felt his body spasm as he choked on something he didn’t dare name. Named things had power, and he didn’t want to give the guilt and the grief the reins to his mind, his heart already long lost.

“He lived with me for six years, give or take. Home-schooled, as all omegas are, as Kenma was, but Sho’s version always seemed more intense. He was preparing to take on the seas that had stolen his father, given his family that legacy, take on his crews, but also being taught how to be the perfect housewife.” Kuroo saw the frowns and shook his head, ”That’s how it works. Besides I don’t even really know what happened in those lessons. He wouldn’t talk and I wouldn’t ask, anything he did I learned through Kenma.”

That raised certain red flags in Kageyama’s mind, but the dots were faint and nothing lined up just yet.

“The closer he got to sixteen the less we saw of him, the more lessons he had and at sixteen, as per tradition, Lord Nohebi began courting him, and we stopped seeing him altogether. The only thing I heard within that two years was that in preparation to please his future wife, Lord Nohebi began sourcing mistresses and misters to practice with. Oh! Yes, no I did see him. Twice actually. It was early days in the courtship, but they already looked so in love. I was so happy for him.” Contrary to his statement, Kuroo’s face morphed into a look of horrible, terrible soul-eating guilt, and even Kageyama was forced to avert his eyes. Neither alphas asked what the preparation was about, very out of the normal conversational rules for the two middle-class alphas, “We were all so happy for him. And then a year into the courtship, Lord Nohebi claimed another as his official mistress, and I nearly – because I had the authority to – I nearly... I came so close… to calling everything off. Because I could’ve stepped in as an elder alphan relative of him and told the court that I would find a different suitor, but I didn’t. Because they were in love, and I knew a Mistress wouldn’t change that.”

Daichi cleared his throat as if to speak, but Kuroo kept talking, eyes glistening slightly, the only thing holding him back from sobbing being his pride as an alpha.

“Their wedding was so beautiful.”

Kageyama choked on air.

“It wasn’t the first time we’d seen him in a dress, but the white, silver and orange lace made him look like an exploding star.” Kuroo’s lips trembled as he lifted them in a wobbly smile, reminiscing, memories clear in the fog that clouded his eyes, “Like a little supernova.”

“Were they… did they…?” Kageyama wasn’t sure what he wanted to know, but his inner alpha had taken to tearing at his insides in the last five seconds, clawing at his stomach. Was it nerves? Why did he care? Maybe it was the tumble of thoughts because the man fucking trafficked omegas but yet came from such a background, could skip along the sidewalk with a big grin still plastered on his face. What had cause Hinata to commit such acts of violence? Another alpha, if the photos of the first crime scene had proven anything. Was it the same alpha? What had happened? What secrets did Hinata hold close to chest, what cards had he not revealed even to his adopted brother?

“I don’t know. All I know, that on the night of their two-month anniversary, a fire started in the kitchens of the Nohebi estate. Some people made it out, and the ones that didn’t – well, the fire burned so bright and hot, that only bones were left.” A lone tear fell from Kuroo’s right eyes, trickling down his cheek, a cool touch to the hot face. Suddenly angry he wiped it away, “I thought he was fucking dead. And now eight years later I find out that he’s been part of a gang that traffics other omegas. That he’s alive. Is that backstory enough for you?”

The tone was biting, but then Kuroo shook his head, and hung it to rest in his hands. Above him Daichi and Kageyama shared a look. This was a lot bigger than anyone of them had thought (discounting Tsukkishima, but they didn’t know he knew – besides the things he knew were different). The implications of Kuroo’s testimony ran deep, and now that Daichi look at the man behind the glass, clinging on to the in-heat omega, he could see the striking resemblance between the fuzzy Lord Hinata of his memories (maybe he should’ve gone to bed earlier in those days), and the omega before him. How had he not seen the connections? Had it just been too preposterous to believe? Daichi cursed himself for his poor skills, hating the fact that somehow Kuroo had managed to one-up him again (even though logically he knew it wasn’t even a competition, it still hurt his pride).

Kageyama meanwhile stayed frowning, his gut clenching. Something was missing. This might be the truth, but it wasn’t the full truth.

“I can’t believe it. The way he held those guns. The way he ran. I just, he used to be so soft, he used to laugh at everything. And now,” Kuroo looked up to reveal dry eyes and an unfaltering desire to know, “Tell me, what happened to make him so different?”

It wasn’t the full truth, Kageyama decided finally, struck with a memory of Hinata explaining his actions of the first raid. After all, didn’t Shoyou Hinata have a sister?

•••

Iwaizumi took the patches from Asahi, under the watchful eye of Tsukkishima as the tall blond stirred instant coffee into a cup of steaming water. The steam fogged his glasses slightly, but the man didn’t move them, letting the fog clear naturally as he waited for the tell-tale rip of the plastic backing from the gauze square of the scent suppressant. Iwaizumi struggled with the edges for a bit, but then the ripping sound came and Tsukkishima’s glasses cleared to let him see the white square fitting to the curve of the man’s neck.

The alpha looked uncomfortable to have them on – the connotations and implications of wearing a scent suppressant patch all towards the negative side of life. But they were already dealing with the muck of the underbelly, so it shouldn’t be too bad. And by Iwaizumi’s face, it looked as if he was settling into a second skin, or perhaps his first (if they were going chronologically), now carefully adjusting the straps of the scent mask. It was like a gas mask, but sleeker, with no sharp edges for an enemy to rip into, the filters fine unable to be scratched at, or gotten to.

“Here.” Tsukkishima handed him the coffee and then stalked back to the kitchen counter, “I put two packets into that, so you should stay awake. Asahi?”

“Yeah, I’ll take one, thank you Tsukkishima.”

From the small bar fridge, the alpha produced a can of whipped cream, and reaching his lanky frame up, sourced the sugar from the top cupboard. Iwaizumi set the mask down on the table and sipped. For a few seconds the men were silent, listening to the sounds of domesticity and the ticking of a clock down the hall.

Like a lull in the night. A spare second of quiet.

Asahi sighed.

And the clock in the break room, ticked past 12:30.

“Do you think that we’ll be able to find the other omegas?” Asahi broke the silence first.

Iwaizumi shrugged and Tsukkishima, handing a sweet monstrosity to the alpha that had spoken, scowled, “I hope so.”

The attempt at conversation fell flat as they sipped at their respective coffees, trying to fight off the tiredness that had decided to rest on their shoulders, weigh down their brains. Asahi sighed in contentment as his first sip resulted in a mouthful of cream and the faintest hint of coffee, and Tsukkishima couldn’t help relax at the dark brown and bitterness of his. Even the smell of it was revitalising, if the time that ticked by wasn’t.

“I want to see that sniper of theirs.” Iwaizumi admitted quietly after a while, after he’d finished sculling his coffee. Frowning at the empty cup he set it down and rubbed cold hands together, “I’ve seen everyone fight except for him. He just looks so skittish; I didn’t even think he could fight. And yet that night in the container yard…”

“Oh yeah, you didn’t see him in the van that time. But the way he cleaned his sniper rifle, that was scary. Completely different expression. He must have some insane emotional attachment to it.”

“He talked to me a bit about his past.” Tsukkishima also admitted, but the admission was even able to quieten the obnoxious ticking of the clock down the hall at the weight of his words, “On this failed scouting mission I suppose.”

“Elaborate.” Iwaizumi adjusted the straps on the scent mask absently, his voice sounding slightly muffled as he lifted it to check the fit on his face. Yet his eyes sharpened and did not leave the blond-haired alpha.

“He was self-taught, and I think he killed his parents with that gun.” Tsukkishima’s scent slipped from his grasp, and the faint mouldy, musky scent of moth-balls and hardback books creeped out into the surrounding air, the only freshness countering the old smell captured in his secondary scent of mint. He didn’t want to talk further the scent said, or at least, he wanted to stop himself from talking anymore because he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to stop. Because the thoughts ate him up from the inside, and he didn’t want to cave to the dark abyss they had created for him.

“Oh.” Asahi and Iwaizumi could smell it, the latter thankful he hadn’t put on his mask and unknowingly disregarded the warning and walked into a war with the other alpha. They’d never smelt him this worked up.

“His parents were abusing him. Selling him, I think. They –“ Tsukkishima put up quotation signs in the air, looking somewhat dejected. Under the cover of the night, and the gross disconnection from reality caused by the harsh fluorescent light, it was no wonder why his tongue was loosened – “viewed him as an object they could get money with. –“ He dropped the quotations marks – “He called it a pressure cooker.”

“Shit. Do any of these omegas have an okay childhood? I’m not sure what Kuroo is telling Captain, but fuck I bet it’s something tragic.” Iwaizumi slipped the mask over his head, pulling it down until he felt the seal being created under his chin.

“Probably not. Iwaizumi they’re all in a fucking gang. One that traffics omegas.” Tsukkishima glanced at the clock, put the kettle on again and sighed, “Which speaking of, I need to start sorting through the scraps we saved from the bonfire. Asahi what are you planning to do?”

Asahi licked the cream moustache off his top lip and for good measure wiped his mouth just in case. Walking across the room, he took Iwaizumi’s cup from the table, and turned to the sink beside the bar fridge. Not looking back at his colleagues, he sighed, “I’m going to go back to the East Estate. We need to find where they stored the scent weapons, and where they put the hostages. If there’s any hope of the hostages still being alive, there’s hope of figuring out a bit more of this mess.”

Iwaizumi nodded and Tsukkishima stiffened slightly, having not thought about the possibility of hostages at all. While he had been informed of the raid at the docks, the facts that there had been a hostage completely slipped his mind. Somewhat guilty, he felt the urge to rectify his mistake – even if only he knew of the slip up, “Right. Send in photos as soon as you get them. I don’t want to have to wait for the clean-up guys to have them developed, digital images will suffice for now. We need to connect the dots as quickly as we can.”

On that note, on that urging insistence in Tsukkishima’s tone, combined with the shrill hiss of the kettle – the three alphas went their separate ways. Despite it being around 12:40, it was like a fire had been lit beneath their feet, and they moved with energy and purpose. At least Tsukkishima did, in his pouring of his third coffee of the night.

Iwaizumi meanwhile, had stepped out, making his way back to the room his superiors would be in, but stopped when he reached the door. A quiet buzz, a bubble of someone’s voice echoed from beneath the door. Perhaps it was best not to interrupt Daichi and Kuroo and that person’s monologuing recount of the past – whether it be years, or the past few weeks.

So, he moved to the door of the room adjacent, hesitating only slightly before his hands burned around the cold handle. He hadn’t done this in a very long time, but the action, the steeling of his resolve was familiar and somewhat sickening. Swallowing the bile that rose, and commanding his instincts to for once stay down, he opened the door.

To say that the scent hit him would be wrong, as the mask filtered everything, but the weight of the air in the room had changed as if the humidity had spiked, and the air was made dense – like breathing in water, or something worse. If anything, the scent physically hit him, and he nearly stumbled back at the change in atmosphere.

It was the centre of the room that his eyes were drawn to. The two omegas, both cuffed to the metal loops jutting out of the table, were practically on each other’s laps, drenched in sweat and probably sticky with the amount of scent the taller of them were producing. Hinata was still hunched over, the little spoon in Raven’s embrace, head on the table, each breath either too long or too short. And the omega that he was supposed to be removing, was straining against his own bonds to bury his face in Hinata’s neck – right where the scent glands were.

“Alpha.” Oikawa’s head swung around, detaching his lips from pressing soft kisses into Hinata’s neck – because if he didn’t then how was he to know Hinata was going to be okay? In his haze of heat, every sense had been sharpened, accentuated, until his body felt like one long live wire, but he couldn’t smell anything other than his own arousal. All he knew was that the omega that had come for him in the van, that had tried to pat his head and scent him (despite not being able to scent), was distressed. And if there was anything worse than being alone, it was not being able to please his client.

Hinata lifted his head slowly, confused at the lack of contact, and wanting to know exactly which alpha had dared step into the room. A little wiggling emotion squirmed back into his body.

Iwaizumi’s breath caught at the look in both their eyes, marvelling at how similar their positions were, but at how different their expressions looked. Hinata’s eyes were blank, bordering on cold – likely experiencing the low that came after the high of the post-drop flood of emotions while Oikawa’s were… they were beautiful. The same colour as his hair, but ringed in different shades of brown, as if someone had seen an old stump in the forest, and etched its age rings into his eyes, painted a painting that only those that hike and trek through rivers, across fjords, up mountains and through thick forests should be pay to see at the finish line, searching for that mythical place. And here he was seeing it for free, and knowing with each thumping of his heart – that perhaps, what he had been feeling towards the lanky, tall omega was a little more than the typical alphan instinct to protect. Maybe he shouldn’t have teased Daichi so much.

“Alpha?” Oikawa crooned, leaning out of Hinata’s touch further and nearly impaled himself on the edge of the table as he tried to get closer to Iwaizumi. And the alpha saw how out of it he was, the beautiful brown clouded slightly, glassy and slowly filling with tears, “Please… s’hurts.”

Slurring words.

It pulled Iwaizumi back to himself, back to the task at hand.

And his feet were no longer rivetted to the floor. He walked forwards, and slowly with hand that he tried to keep still but unable to keep out the slight quiver, unlocked the loop from where it jutted from the table, and pulled it up slightly, creating a gap from which he slid Oikawa’s clammy, sweaty hands. And he silently cursed himself for not wearing gloves.

“C’mon now.” He thanked the distortion of the scent mask for covering the apprehension in his voice. He should be used to this, but the look the omega gave him was disarming. A small smile, but with a wobbling lip and a red tongue darting out to wet it. A ravenous look that overcame it for a second, and then Raven was looking back at Hinata, bristling as the younger only shifted in discomfort – eyes blank but teeth gritted.

“Hurt.” The word sounded forced, didn’t slip as easily from those lips – “He’s… omega… hurt.”

“He’ll be okay Raven. We have to get you somewhere safe. For your heat.” Slipping into his old persona was easier than he had thought. But Raven, the omega whose heat was now sticking to Iwaizumi’s clothes – he couldn’t smell it, but he knew he’d have to put these through the wash until they were threadbare before he could wear them again, he didn’t move. Still leaning towards him, hands grasping weakly at his wrist as his own larger hands held the handcuffs loosely, but head turned towards Hinata.

“Protect… I have to..” Oikawa shook his head, and Iwaizumi was shocked to see his eyes clear slightly his voice losing the whine, and the gasping to lower itself slightly to a semblance of his light mocking tone. Except this tone was laced with seriousness, “Protect him. That’s my job.” And he gasped again, collapsing into Iwaizumi’s arms, causing them both to stumble back a bit.

“Alpha… take me instead. I’ll be good. Please.”

Oikawa’s hands were shaking. Hinata’s shoulders were shaking. The orange-hair disappeared under two small hands that tugged fervently at it. Iwaizumi couldn’t smell, but he could see the tension and the fear in the bodies that trembled.

“Hey, Hinata. Calm down, it’s okay. I’m masked. I’m just taking Raven to a heat room so he can at least be comfortable.”

Something wet the table.

Hinata didn’t look up, but Iwaizumi didn’t have to look to know.

Oikawa pushed back and with a mewl, near fell on Hinata. Distantly the alpha wondered if his colleagues had noticed this commotion, or if they were still wrapped up in their own conversation. It didn’t matter either way, all his attention focused back in on the pair, and quietly, he moved to their side of the table, but didn’t get too close, not at the vacant stare Hinata sent his way.

“Sho..y..ou” Oikawa hands, free from the loop, ran over Hinata’s face, feeling it, tugging at lips and touching the creases of his eyes, laugh wrinkles and treading carefully under tear ducts. Hands hot and sweaty, shaking. But Hinata leaned into it, eyes regaining some life, “Mine.. free. Safe.”

 He couldn’t form sentences for the life of him, and Iwaizumi had no idea what he was talking about and for a second it seemed that Hinata didn’t either but then the creased eyebrows softened his expression. And for the first time, Hinata’s voice dropped from the self-confident, enraged sort of snark, to let Iwaizumi hear a softer, more caring side of himself. Even if the omega was effectively tuning out the world and focusing on the other in heat.

“’Kawa, ‘Kawa, baby.” Hinata’s eyes were watering again, and so were Oikawa’s, but the latter’s body shook as another wave of heat hit him and Iwaizumi heard the moan and then the groan of pain. And the omega sobbed, “Hey, it’s okay. Oikawa look at me. I’ve got you. He’s not going to hurt me. He’s not going to hurt you either.”

Oikawa – Iwaizumi had learnt his name, and fuck why did it have to be something so perfect– shivered, and moaned, then sobbed again, tears freely spilling over to wet and mar the beautiful face.

“I’m okay now ‘Kawa. I promise.”

“Hinata I need to take him to a heat room. He’ll only hurt himself and send you into heat –“

“I can’t go into heat.” Hinata’s statement was blunt. And yet there was sadness in it as well. Iwaizumi frowned, but he didn’t get a chance to say that fucking hell that’s impossible, what the fuck happened to you?, as the omega continued to coo softly to Oikawa, “C’mon now ya grand king, show me some of that strength you brag about all the time. I’m so proud of you, you know that? You’ve protected us so well, can you let me do the protecting now?”

Something twisted in Iwaizumi’s heart.

And something twisted in Oikawa’s as well, because for a moment his eyes cleared slightly – a feat that should not have been possible, and he muttered, “Who’s charismatic now?”

Hinata laughed.

And Oikawa claimed his lips.

Pulling him in for a searing kiss, another wave of longing, of heat had rushed over the omega and despite his best efforts – which were very little in reality, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Oikawa just wanted to comfort Hinata. Because damn he knew Hinata was lying through his teeth and he didn’t know how he knew, but he knew that how close Hinata was to sinking into something deep, dark and unstable. There was never an ‘okay’ only a ‘better than before’.

But before he could cement his reason into Hinata’s mouth, before he could prod and ask for entry and sweet relief – for both of them, he was getting ripped from the other omega and held in another’s strong arms. And the rejection hurt. His heat-addled mind took the loss of contact as rejection, and he tensed in the different warmth that coasted his back.

Hinata’s face blurred in Oikawa’s vision, as hot tears, hotter even than his burning, throbbing body, spilled down his face. The other omega felt pain spike his heart, and he knew his face must’ve betrayed something horribly sad as Iwaizumi cleared his throat and spoke, “I’m sorry. I have to get him to somewhere safe, with materials available for nesting, and it would’ve been worse the longer he held on to you.”

The alpha’s grip tightened as Oikawa buried his face into the alpha’s uniform, drawing deep breaths to seek out any lingering scent from the long day. The omega had turned despite Iwaizumi wanting him to stay face out – it was how they’d been taught to walk criminals, but his training from the Investigative Team had taught him face in, and comfort, because moving omegas in heat was a very, very dangerous venture.

Something unreadable glazed across Hinata’s face and the man’s cheeks burned red, “As much as I hate to say this Officer,” Hinata grimaced, “But I’ll trust you with that.”

Oikawa whimpered into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, chin rubbing gently over where his scent glands would be – attempting to get more of his scent, but meeting only the white gauze. Tears continued to run down his face. Brokenly whispered, “Please.”

“I’ll kill you if you hurt him.”

“Omega.. hurt.. angry. Hurts.” The other omega barely had any energy to even speak his fractured thoughts. Iwaizumi didn’t need the others verbal commentary to know that if he could smell the room right now, it would be filled with the acrid ginger scent along with whatever niceties the omega in heat smelled like. A shiver shot up his spine as he met Hinata’s eyes, and no longer were they blank or lifeless – no longer vacant. Whatever Oikawa had done when he’d kissed Hinata had worked, pulling him out of the post-drop low, and gifting him back the insane bloodlust that the entire Karasuno Unit now knew about.

Iwaizumi swallowed.

“Is there anything I need to know regarding his status as a purebred and his heats?”

A glare. And then a softening and a hardening of the expression, fists clenching and relaxing slowly.

“No heat suppressants. Don’t even show him. No scents either. If it makes normal omega’s heats more bearable, it will make his worse if he knows he won’t get that scent.”

There was a beat of silence.

“He needs contact.” Hinata glared back up at Iwaizumi, “Skin-to-skin. The minute you tore him away from me, his body took that as rejection and his heat gets worse. Purebreds survive their heats from the attention their partners give them.”

“Right. I’ll make the trip short then, so he doesn’t have time to properly latch on to me.” Iwaizumi nodded, knowing that there was no way in hell that he’d break every code he’d ever been taught to help the poor omega through his heat. Though his heart fluttered slightly at the word ‘survive’ – and he wondered how far back Oikawa’s omegan ancestry ran.

Holding Oikawa close to him, keeping one arm steady on the middle of his back, moving the lower to the crook of the omegas sweaty, trembling knees – with not a change of his expression – swooped him up bridal style. The long pants irritated his skin, and the omega – unsurprisingly, given the fact that Iwaizumi had experienced a whole new world at the container yards at the docks the other night – was heavy. Muscled. He could feel the sinews pressing into his back, could feel the thin shirt flap and waver. He was so thankful for the mask.

More so even as when he started to walk, feeling the stickiness on Oikawa’s pants to start seeping into his thick work short – the tougher material not even attempting to protect his skin. The wet fabric just sought to irritate him further.

“Alpha.” Oikawa moaned, squirming. The fabric of his shirt got wetter, and Iwaizumi realised that it wasn’t sweat he was feeling. It was slick.

For a second he faltered, then sucked in a deep long breath through his gas mask and tried to keep his inner alpha at bay despite that realisation. It clawed at him to ‘claim’, but he was clear-headed without the scent to persuade him, so he was able to stay steady on his feet. Just. Purebreds were dangerous.

“Officer.” Iwaizumi turned his head at the sound. Hinata had his face in his hands, not meeting his gaze, but his voice was firm, “Don’t let him go unconscious. I’ve only just managed to keep him from dropping.”

The alpha tightened his grip on the omega, swallowed. Tried to calm whatever instinct rose at that statement. Swallow the emotions and bury them deep down inside.

 “What do you suggest I do?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling a hazy Oikawa up to lean on his chest as he grabbed the door handle, opening it up to the corridor. The omega, despite having very little energy, immediately wrapped his arms around the alpha’s neck and nuzzled into the gauze-covered scent gland. Iwaizumi hoped the adhesive backing would hold at the omega’s aggressive attempts at getting him to scent.

“Just…”

Silence.

“Just talk to him.”

“Yeah, I will.” And that was a promise that Iwaizumi could keep.

•••

The van’s engine spluttered and protested as it travelled down the narrow street. The street lamps flickered and the asphalt was neither smooth nor potholed, but the crunch of glass beneath the wheels didn’t bode well for anyone. Least of all, the pack of omegas driving alone at night. But they were neither fearful, nor stealthy, with their guns strapped to their hips and briefcases across their laps, supporting the paper plates of shitty food they ate.

Suga gripped the wheel with one hand, the other holding a particularly full wrap, the multi-coloured fillings peeking out from the dough and then the plastic wrap that held it. Ennoshita watched with amusement as his boss attempted to eat with spilling the little shreds of carrot – unsuccessfully, before attacking his own wrap, also unsuccessful in his attempt to eat cleanly. In the back Natsu’s eyes, not yet dry, stared out the dark window to the disappointing outside, but Noya thrust the bag of chips towards her, “You have to eat ‘Tsu.”

Kenma licked his fingers free of the sticky icing of the finger bun, enamoured by it’s cheap but sweet flavours wondering why Kuroo had never bought it for him before. Maybe the alpha had also never had it – and at that thought, his scent soured, but this time he garnered no comfort from the omega next to him, save for calming hand, Tadashi too keyed up.

No one was comfortable, really. Emotionally exhausted after having to part from their pack members, some more physically exhausted from running and worrying – muscles tense and sore, all just wanted to find the people that Tadashi had told them about, the people of which lived at the address the omega had typed into the GPS with shaking fingers.

The apartment blocks were getting worse for wear, each squashed four stories high but covered in all manner of graffiti, thresholds betraying all sorts of rubbish. Cigarette butts, needles, and an old probably senile alpha who couldn’t even afford government housing with both in his hand. Suga glanced at the LED screen of the GPS, “Tadashi we’re on the street you put, do you know what house these people live in?”

“I...uh.” For a second, all Tadashi could draw was a blank. Tense, nervous, it had been years since he’d been told that address by an old omega mother whose granddaughter had been found by them. His insecurities jeered at him, but he kept the black box lock, and tried to ignore their attempts at stirring his anxiety, though adrenalin coursed through his body, everything feeling hot. He swallowed nervously, “I think it’s the house with the fuck the oligarchy’ on it.”

Noya snorted, having come from a different background and finding himself to agree wholeheartedly. Suga meanwhile, a slight smile lingering on his lips sought out the graffiti on the dimly lit street, and upon finding it around four houses further up, pulled the van up to its section of the curb.

The van rumbled to a stop.

The omegas polished off their food, now unhindered by the swaying, bumping motions of the vehicle.

Tadashi watched Kenma steal his portion of the finger bun, and let him. If he was to eat anything right now, he doubted it would be able to pass through the iron bands that squeezed his chest, the thick coils of rope that had replaced his stomach – weighing him down.

Own your past. I ’m out of that place. It ’s okay. He got out as well. He ’ll want to see me.  

The omega unclipped his seatbelt, and rolled open the door of the van. Cold air caressed his face, and rushed inside the warm interior. Everyone else stopped in their actions, staring slightly.

“Just give me a second Tadashi.” Suga hummed softly, breaking the tension easily, jingling the keys as he slipped them into his pocket, “I’ll come with you to see if it’s the right place.”

“Don’t be too long Crow.” Natsu turned big pleading eyes towards him, and huffed.

Suga smiled gently in her direction, “We’ll try. Besides, if anything happens – you guys ae watching right?”

“Of course.” Nishinoya grinned, and Ennoshita nodded. Kenma refused to answer, his eyes lingering on Tadashi’s back as the young omega stepped out onto the street. Glass crunched beneath his feet.

He started to walk towards the house, with each step his heart thumping louder, head feeling hotter, arms trembling and breath coming shorter. When his foot connected with the edge of the sidewalk and he stumbled forward, Suga was there to catch him and lay a light hand on his back. Tadashi flinched away, the came a quick, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re nervous. Just remember to breathe Tadashi. No matter how this goes, we’re here for you.”

“There are just some things, that happened a long time ago…” He trailed off, voice starting quiet and ending at nothing more than a breathy word.

There was a quiet hum of acknowledgement, and then the sweet mellow tone washed over him, very different to the one that commanded authority back at the base – this one promoted comfort and safety, “I get it. We’re all a little bit lost, all have our secrets.”  

“Just –“

“I promise. I won’t judge.”

Not even the other omegas in the pack knew the depths of each other’s secrets – but Suga knew that even with what little they had shared with each other; it had eased the burdens on their hearts. Though some things weren’t meant to be shared. Was this one of them? Or was Tadashi simply procrastinating in the meet and greet of a past he had chosen to run from?

The younger omega took another step forward towards the door and Suga followed, keeping a light touch of a few fingers on the omegas arm, making sure that Tadashi knew he was here, and he was using the back of his fingers and hand, so couldn’t grab him in any way. The boy had a strange aversion to being coddled, even by packmates, though he often said he craved it.

The street lamp across the street flickered in judgement as the boy took another step forward, this time coming to the steps and neither tripping nor falling, but resting his foot squarely on the centre of each one, pulling himself up. The door dwarfed him; his heart trapped in the cage of his ribs thundered in his ears, his hands grew sweaty.

“Breathe.” Suga reminded him gently, and despite the danger of being in an open space quite late at night, let out a calming scent. The spring scent of honeysuckle felt out of place on the city street, but Tadashi allowed it to wash away at least some of the tension in his body. Suga was good like that, knowing when to push and knowing when to pull one closer and comfort them.

Another step.

“Nearly there.” Light, lilting, steadying – Tadashi took the final step, his feet only a few centimetres away from a fading red door.

He lifted a shaking hand and knock. Once, twice but before he could get a third time in, the cover of the rectangular peephole slid open and a pair of eyes glared down – squinting.

“Mind telling me who the fuck is knowing at bloody ten twenty at night? For the last time I don’t take –“

“Are you Sakusa?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, then shut and the person behind the door moved back to presumably pinch the bridge of his nose – Tadashi was well aware of that person’s habits. Tadashi heard a sigh, “So what if I am. Who are you and what does that name mean to you?”

Blunt and to the point, snappy. Just like he remembered. He heard a click from behind that door, that after five years of being with the Corvids could he recognise that as the safety being flicked off a gun. Same old paranoia.

“Tadashi. It’s me. Tadashi –“ He swallowed the bile that rose –“Yamaguchi.”

“Prove it.” The eyes were back and they were narrowed. Was the peephole ineffective, or did he really now recognise him?

Tadashi felt a hand on his back and his scent spiralled from his grasp and his anxiety cautiously scented the air around him. He didn’t want to do this, but there was only one way that Sakusa would recognise him now, if his scent didn’t spark any memories, the rhyme surely would. It wasn’t one that you got taught by your parents around the campfire, it had been carved and tattooed and burned into his thigh as a reminder – but he knew Sakusa wouldn’t open the door until the words tumbled from his lips. He breathed shakily. Suga moved his fingers and rested his hand on his back again – and Tadashi managed to suppress his flinch at the warmth and safety it promoted.

“Well?”

Sakusa wasn’t unkind. Tadashi had seen him unkind, seen him fight back –this was just him being grumpy to have been woken up. Breathe Tadashi, he’s not going to reject you.

“Slather it with honey,” He whispered, the words coming easily from the many times he’d recited them, tracing the sick patterns on his leg after getting them carved, blood cracked, skin bruised – scarring horribly, even with the help of the man on the other side of the door. The man’s eyes widened, “Stick it down their throat.”

Another voice joined him, any trace of sleep gone from the eyes in front of him, “Send them off across the seas, on a fishing boat.”

And the door flew open with a bang, and before he could even register what was happening, two arms had swept him up and engulfed him in a hug. All he could see was the white of a lab coat, hear the wrinkly of plastic gloves, and feel the thump of the other man’s heart against his own chest. Suga’s hand left his back, but Tadashi stayed anchored in the moment, everything – even his thoughts – silent but for the quiet voice murmuring into his hair, “Thank god you’re okay. Thank god, thank god, thank god.”

Tadashi recovered himself and wrapped his arms around the taller omega, finding odd familiarity in the smell of chamomile tea, knowing, feeling how shaken Sakusa was. One, because the doctor avoided touch as he himself did, and two because Tadashi knew that Sakusa was firmly atheist.

And in that moment, when Sakusa pulled back and lifted a small smile onto both of their lips, Tadashi knew, he just gut-feeling knew, that they’d have a place to stay.

“Doc, we need your help.”

Chapter Text

Lev leaned in, rough tongue lapping the omega’s bond mark, feeling the rough rumbling of his chest as Yaku leaned into the touch, purring softly. Gutturally. The convenience store bathrooms were an objectively disgusting place, but there was no way either of them was going to risk openly scenting on the streets – even if they were bonded.

Fluorescent light flickering above them, tap drip, drip, dripping, the contented scent clashed horribly with it’s surrounds. In the male bathrooms (these sorts of cheap stores didn’t further differentiate between secondary genders, content to let ‘nature’ take it’s course), pushed up against a grimy wall, smearing the back of his thankfully black uniform with dirt and the wall with his scent, Yaku whimpered into Lev’s soft embrace.

The alpha was always sort of unaware of the power his words held (inconsiderate oaf)– being raised in a house of privilege, especially the indulgent one of Haiba’s, did that to him – but his actions had never once made Yaku feel unsafe. Inviting. Warm.

“You were tense.” Lev sniffed deeply into the omega’s neck, running his tongue over the scarred skin again and again, then lifted his head to rub the bottom of his chin along the omega’s hairline, scenting him furiously. His hands rubbed circles on the smaller ones pressed against his chest, joining his mate in purring. He sniffed again, drawing in deep the homely scent of chestnut and cherries, rich deep and still slightly distressed, “No, you’re still tense.”

When Lev pulled back, Yaku pulled back too, banging his head against the wall, then swore loudly. Any diversion intended didn’t work. All the alpha did was step back towards the centre of the room and cradle Yaku’s head in one large hand, rubbing softly over the hit spot.

“I wasn’t –“ A huff of annoyance, but Lev captured the pouting lips in his, growling lowly. Nipped the bottom lip softly, so as not to hurt, nor draw blood, but draw Yaku’s attention back to the man kissing him. How this omega was so stubborn and headstrong, he didn’t know. How his pout and squished face of anger was so cute – he didn’t know either, but loved it nonetheless.

Lev sighed, “You can tell me anything, ya know that? How long have we been mated? Remember our promises?”

“Of course, I do.., I just don’t know.” Yaku murmured back against the alphas neck as Lev moved to restart his scenting, dousing the shorter in waves of his scent – his secondary scent becoming more prominent, as the ratios grew. He would make sure the man smelled of nothing except for him – only him. Their mated scent was a combination of their primaries, but there was nothing the alpha loved more than smelling the faint tinctures of his rosemary seeping from the omega’s clothes, “I’ve been feeling off since we retrieved the tall omega.”

“Pre-heat?”

That earned Lev a sharp chop to his side, and a glare that would put him in hell had he been a sinner. It hurt, but Yaku’s expression softened immediately, face crumpling slightly and he slumped forwards, head tilted up to anchor itself on the alpha’s collarbone. An unfair height difference.

“Well then,” He hesitated, drawing his arms tightly around the other, knowing that what Yaku needed now was reassurance, not his stupid instincts telling him to remind the omega of their mateship and renew the bond mark. He’d do that later – when they weren’t surrounded by the grime of shady smoker’s days old in the convenience store bathroom, “If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to. Just remember what we promised alright? I’ll trust you to the day I die Morisuke, I’ll always listen.”

And the tension faded in his mate’s body, as he watched Yaku wander down memory lane, watched him succumb to the slow purr that Lev forced from his chest in the efforts to comfort, disregarding his own worries to feel the ease of foreign pressure from his chest.

When a couple mated, it was tradition – especially in that of richer families, to on the night of the mating throw a celebration and in front of neither the priest, nor rabbi (the religions of foreigners were well respected, just hadn’t yet found a place within Inarizaki) but a trusted friend to declare any number of promises. To tie a ribbon around their joined hands, colours symbolising anything they wanted to symbolise, as many ribbons as they wanted, and to declare ‘We don’t need the memories, for as long as we walk together the future is forever ours.’. Nearly a repeat of the wedding ceremony, but a private declaration rather than public – infinitely more intimate.

Yaku remembered the night as if it had been no less than a minute ago. He remembered the soft chatter of their unit, under softer lamplight – as they’d forgone the artificial for something pleasing to the eyes. He remembered getting surprised when he’d found the table decorated in not the roses of tradition, but the sweet pink of cherry blossoms in reverence of his omegan scent. At least that’s what Lev had murmured into his hair, not needing a bond to see how surprised and happy the omega was. He remembered everything, done to the grapes that they watched Kuroo throw up into the air and then catch between his teeth. Fukunaga getting laughed at when he got up to beat Kuroo tipsy and swaying, only to show them all up by getting Inuoka to throw some of the pile of peeled chestnuts at him and catching every one of them. He remembered the wandering hands and the chiming of the clock hitting ten.

But the most vivid came after that, when everyone sobered and Lev stood up, nervous and excited – two sides of the very same coin. Yaku remembered the burning of his cheeks when the alpha turned to Kenma to ask him to officiate and bear witness to the promises, and the relief Yaku held when he realised it would be a fellow omega in the room, one of their closest friends.

And the words. The promises.

“I promise to stay by your side when we walk, to guard your back when you fight against the world, to love you in every hour of the day.” The omega’s whispered promise.

“I promise to stand as an equal beside you even on uneven ground, to trust you, to love you, to take care of you until the day I die, and in every life after that.” The alpha’s reverent tone.

“I promise to you my everything, my worries and wishes and wants, I promise to you my secrets.” Choking on emotion.

“I promise to listen, and to learn and to never leave you. I promise to you my loyalties, and my love.” Tear down his cheek.

“I promise to – I promise Lev. I ’ll be the best wife you ’ll ever fucking see. ”

  “I promise to be the best husband you ’ll ever see, Morisuke. ”

And Yaku remembered the tears that had flown freely down his face for the first time in years as he had kissed the alpha, deeply, passionately, intimately. And apologising profusely to Kenma afterwards, for the indecency. The other omega, had laughed a rare laugh, and returned to the celebratory dinner telling them to enjoy their mating – and to take two days off from work – because he’d heard that mating’s could get intense, and nature often took over after the first round.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hide anything.”

“I know.”

“I just – I think it’s my instincts.” Yaku should’ve probably pulled back from his alphas embrace, but as per nature – it just felt too nice to stop. He heard Lev’s quiet intake of breath – a bit sharper and shorter than the deep calming inhales he’d been leaning on. Through the bond he could feel a spark of curiosity and a sliver of worry.

Yaku’s omegan nature had never been that pronounced, not for any insidious reason, just because some people’s nature seemed to be closer to a beta’s disposition. Lev and him had chalked it up to him having two beta parents, of which an omega offspring wasn’t common. Just as the forced mating of two omegas would produce a purebred, who experienced everything more strongly, an omega of two betas was naturally inclined to have a milder nature.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He let out a shaky breath, and pulled back out of the hug to look Lev in the eyes, sharp green that pierced through him in a way that said I see you; I hear you; I love you no matter what you say next. In a way that he loved. That made him feel safe, because he rested assured in the fact that Lev could see through his every expression, every mood, every thought and loved him regardless (even if he would never admit it to the alpha), “I just wanted to go in a comfort them. And I felt so angry when Iwaizumi started talking about the purebred’s heat. I though mine was bad but – and just their whole situation. They looked so broken, and I bet their stories are tragic. I’ve never dropped but Hinata looked absolutely shattered. I just wanted to scent them both and reassure them.”

The words tumbled out and Yaku felt the largest surge of love and affection towards him from the alpha and then Lev fully picked up the smaller man and began to scent him, happiness pouring forth into the room.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think it’s great your instincts are beginning to rise up a bit.”

The alpha put him back down and the smile he sent was dizzying.

“I think if there’s anything I think Hinata needs, it’s some skinship, and someone to find comfort in. Put your instincts first for once, let me take care of the job.” Lev paused, eyes searching for something in Yaku’s, then seemingly finding it, widened his smile to a shit-eating grin, “Besides it’d give me a chance to see your cute side.”

That earned him another chop to the side.

“Better?” He wheezed, regardless of the fact that his mate just punched him in the stomach.

Yaku smiled softly back, lips curling slightly and a shaky exhale lengthening and strengthening, “Yeah, better. As much as I hate to say it – thanks.”

“Anytime my little cherry blossom.”

“I swear to fucking god, I will deck you.”

And there returned the potty-mouth that Lev knew and loved, and reaching out across the bond could feel the settled emotions of his mate, and knew without a doubt that the fluctuation in his emotions, and the tension in his shoulders had eased. A job well done, a promise fulfilled, a love still never-ending.

“Do you think we should go back now?” Yaku asked then, shifting around until his hand was on the handle of the bathroom door (why there wouldn’t be sinks outside the room after touching this disgusting handle he didn’t know), and he was looking back on the tall, lanky, utterly goofy alpha he fell in love with.

“Oh yeah, did we just leave the trolley in the middle of the aisle?”

“Huh, yeah I think we did.”

“Do ya reckon...”

“If anyone’s been bothered to steal it, good on them honestly. I’m surprised that even the clerk is still awake.”

They returned to the aisle they had abandoned their trolley to find the contents very much untouched: four packets of donuts – two iced, two cinnamon and sugar, enough instant coffee to last a month, and two packets of sugary biscuits. As if anyone would try and steal them, Yaku shook his head in fondness, knowing the alpha could feel it, feeling the confusion back and pushing vague amusement back towards his mate. The non-verbal conversations could last forever, even without the words that they knew some stronger couples were capable of sending across the bond, but now wasn’t really the time.

“Is that all?”

Satisfaction was all Lev felt from Yaku, and together, with Yaku pushing the trolley and Lev with a comforting hand on the lower back, they went and paid for their goods.

And the night air had only grown colder in their absence.

•••

“We don’t have much information Kuroo, we only just discovered their existence last week.” Daichi tried to keep his voice measured, tried to calm the alpha slightly, sensing an impending loss of control. The alpha had been close to breaking down for a while – and if it was anything like he suspected, probably since meeting Hinata. As much as the other alpha wanted to see the omega, there was no telling how that meeting would go down, especially if the alpha was going to converse with Hinata based off an outdated impression.

One glance at Kageyama told him that his subordinate felt the same, and another told him that Kageyama was thinking of something, racking his brains to piece together the dots he’d drawn – on the way to creating an image that could change everything.

But that wasn’t their priority right now. Their priority was to break the impression of Hinata that Kuroo held, so to enable him to do his job. Daichi hated this part of his own job, informing the relatives of the hurt, or hurting, just how much they’d been traumatised and how much care they’d need, or in this case just how much the omega had changed.

“But you know things don’t you.” Kuroo’s voice was eerily measured as well, but there was a faint hint of an edge. Scathing, accusing, longing, “We may not know why, but can’t you tell me the what?”

“Kageyama, go get the pictures, and a laptop.” Daichi sighed, not sure exactly how to explain the orange-haired man without some help. Actually, not sure how to explain the omega full stop. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, listening to the clang of the door as Kageyama rushed off to find Tsukkishima and subsequently the pictures and a laptop? Kuroo’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask anything because the look on Daichi’s face was dead enough – he didn’t need his head getting bit off in his haste to find information. The Nekoma unit and Karasuno unit, were working together – even if they were longstanding rivals, so Kuroo held his tongue and waited for Daichi to continue speaking.

“I’m not sure how much you know about the Corvid group, so I’ll start from what we know.”

“Right.”

“Crow is what the Boss calls himself, and the Ravens are his right-hand men. Those are the people we have in custody right now. Hinata is one of the Ravens. Got that?”

Kuroo was frowning, but he nodded, “…Yeah.”

“Hinata has also, over the time we’ve know him killed at least twenty people, and tortured at least two.”

“Over a fucking week? Hinata?” The outburst was loud, and Kuroo’s chair clattered backwards as the alpha stood, hackles raised and eyes darkening dangerously. His hand was flung out to the side, finger pointed towards the figure in the room adjacent, slumped and looked away from the glass. Oikawa was nowhere to be seen. Daichi wondered if Iwaizumi had already removed him.

“Calm the fuck down Kuroo, and for your sake take a FUCKING SEAT. It’s too late in the night for this shit. Do you want to hear the rest of what we know or what?” Tiredness had loosened his tongue, as had his very apparent exasperation. Daichi’s eyes flashed a challenge back, and for a moment there was a clear clash of very potent, but also tired scents, and then Kuroo sighed, because he couldn’t help but see the logic, and sat back down.

“Sorry.” It was hard to say, “Really, though?”

“Well, be prepared for worse, because Kageyama’s bringing the evidence, and it’s not standard.” Kuroo hissed through his teeth in shock, drawing in breath suddenly, and Daichi nodded in acknowledgment, “Look, we had no idea who he was, or what we were getting ourselves into. It’s just, the case –“

“Yeah, you just wanted it to be finished, and to find the answers, you don’t need to lecture me on that on Sawamura.” One look in Kuroo’s eyes found him a reason on why he didn’t. The case on the Duke must’ve have been taking a harder toll than Daichi had previously thought.

“We saw him spar with Crow, and then again with the tall Raven who’s now in heat, and I would hazard a guess that he’s had formal weapons training. Given your description, I’d say during the last eight years.”

“Yeah, no,” Kuroo’s hands were shaking slightly, but he hid that wells as he clasped them together in front of his body, creating a white vice-like grip on himself, imagining his control to be like that grip. It would not slip, he would not let it slip, “Omegas of nobility aren’t given military training, or even taught basic gunning skills. The only things they’re taught is archery, for traditional hunting purposes, but even that is more ceremonial, than actual skill. Like the hunters will hold the deer still while the head omega will kill it. Supposed to promote – yeah, sorry, continue.”

He tried not to think of Kenma’s body beside him, forgoing the normal dress paraded by omegas of high status – because he was practically a noble just by extended contact with Kuroo, wearing instead the blood red of Kuroo’s family crest and colours, in suit form, dark gold jewellery jingling around pale wrists, and clipping to soft earlobes, tracing the line of his neck in near-collar-like fashion. He tried not to think of the deadpan expression as the arrow sunk deep into the deer’s flesh, and the blood that coated the omega’s fingers as he removed the arrow and declared the prey’s death. The expression hadn’t even shifted. It made sense now.

“Yeah, I don’t know how to break this to you Kuroo, but he’s not the man you once knew. There’s something that’s happened to him between when you knew him and when we met him to change him.”

The door creaked open, but Daichi just sat searching Kuroo’s eyes, watching as tears began to water them once more. It was painful to cry, every alpha’s pride hated it, to the point where breaking down in front of others was just not an option, but this was not just any scenario. Daichi held his hand out and he felt the card of the developed images being placed gently onto his open palm.

“I have the laptop as well Captain. Would you like me to set it up?”

“Yes, thank you Kageyama.”

“Kuroo,” This time it was Kageyama who spoke, voice slightly less contained than Daichi’s, but cold and clinical nonetheless, “I’ve had the most time with Hinata in the past week. So, I’m perhaps the most qualified to say this, but he’s dangerous. He has a fierce vendetta against alphas, and is ruthless in his revenge. And –“ Kageyama’s mind flicked back to the raid of the docks, the memory of Hinata smashing the alpha’s skull against the ground the whispered, how dare you. – “He’s not someone you want to get angry.”

“I…”

“One of his family was kidnapped by a trafficking ring, and this,” Daichi handed Kuroo’s shaking hands the photos, the room souring immediately, and falling to the shocked and confused scent of the other alpha, pine needles sharpening until both Daichi and Kageyama could’ve sworn they were drowning under a sea of rotting plant matter, lost in the depths of the forest. In one overwhelming moment, they knew exactly how Kuroo felt. Daichi sucked in a lungful of air after realising he’d stopped breathing, “that’s… that’s what he did.”

“He…” The noise died in Kuroo’s throat, regressing into a whine of pain, “He…”

“Oh, Shoyou.” He finished, hands now fully shaking to the point where one of the photos dropped from his grip, “Did he really? God, I’m so sorry Sho. I shouldn’t’ve left him there; I shouldn’t’ve let either of them out of my sight.”

He held the remaining photos to his face, to not to try to hide his tears, but to try and – well, he didn’t know what he was trying to do, it just hurt, everything hurt and he felt so fucking guilty and sick of all the scum of the earth that had turned Shoyou into someone who did this, and yet at the same time, though he knew it was wrong, his inner alpha couldn’t help but purr slightly at the sight of the mutilated body. Because, it whispered in his ear, he was protecting his family. He was saying fuck it in the face of power, and despite Kuroo being part of that alphan power, Kuroo loved it. And he hated the fact that he hadn’t been able to help. And he hated the fact that Hinata hadn’t trusted Kuroo enough to come to him, “I should’ve been there to protect your back. Gods, I’m so sorry.”

The other two alphas watched on, neither averting their eyes, just watching Kuroo struggle to come back together. Kageyama knew at this point it was just best to let it play out, having watched too many people on the field unable to grieve lose themselves completely in a place where they weren’t meant to. At least here Kuroo could get some of his emotions out in a place that wouldn’t garner irreversible horrible consequences, unless of course the alpha counted having a long-standing rival seeing him cry as one of those consequences.

Daichi didn’t understand how Kuroo could look at someone on the wrong side of the law, who had murdered countless people, tortured many and could still wish to protect him. No, Daichi was being a hypocrite, because – and he thought back to the drinks he’d drunk and the words that had tumbled from his mouth (he hated the fact that he could remember, what he wished to be a black-out drunk like Tanaka), because a small part of him also wanted to protect Crow, in a definitely more intimate way. In a way that would mar, and perfect that porcelain stretch of unmarked skin, the junction between the omega’s neck and perfect –

“This flash drive,” Daichi forced himself from his thoughts, refusing to let his inner alpha rear it’s necessary but ugly head. He took the flash drive from his pocket, the sleek black reminding him that they themselves had only listened to the recording – what was it now, yesterday morning? He was too tired to do the fucking maths. Kuroo dropped the photos from his face and stared at the Captain with now puffy red-rimmed eyes, “Also contains evidence of Hinata torturing someone. The hostage had stabbed one of his brothers – ah, packmates. Not blood relative. The information also pertains to the Duke case you’re working on. Partially the reason I requested your backup specifically.”

Kageyama took the flash drive and plugged it into one of the USB ports of the computer, clicking on the image of the drive that popped up. Two files were on it, in total. The rest empty white space on the computer screen.

Extracting #1 (3:00pm)

asdwetoqwuyczxbnm.mp4

“The first one is the one that contains the information with the Duke’s case, which I’ll give you in due time to dissect, but…” Daichi hadn’t told anyone about the second video, the one he’d watched after the omega had left, the one why no doubt Iwaizumi hadn’t realised was even there to begin with, “The video is the one you need to see.”

Kageyama clicked on the file – the name making it seem more suspicious than it already was. And the image that conquered his screen wasn’t promising either, showing a dark circular-looking room with a man tied up in the middle of it.

“Should I press play..?”

“Just do it. Get it over with.” Kuroo’s voice was rough, and the words were forced.

No one spoke after that.

The video wasn’t silent. It was twenty minutes long. The clocks fixed on their wrists ticked by silently. Their breaths were caught in their throat. Kuroo couldn’t fucking breathe. His fingers twitched as he watched his brother, his brother, walked into the room, knife glinting, dirty off-white bucket filled with water. His heart crept further up his throat, accompanying his dinner to sit and suffocate him. Thumping.

It wasn’t as if the probably security camera gave a good angle, they could see the hostage’s face, but not Hinata’s. But they could hear everything.

The screams of the alpha filled the room. Blood spurted, left ear suddenly leaving the shot, and then re-entering between the omega’s pinched fingers, all alpha’s feeling the need to vomit at the sight, only one – the one in the screen – doing so.

The omega squatted and came up with blood coating the knife. Another scream. Another question, ‘Do you work for Hiroshi’?

 And then something that made Kuroo’s blood run cold, more so than anything else did, more so than anything he’d heard or seen so far, a tone low and sweet and seductive. One that twisted his mind to conjure images of rut-house whores, and trophy wives, and omega’s so lost, and alpha’s so manipulative and abusive. The ‘Good alpha’ and Kuroo wondered if Hinata had heard a good omega whispered in the same tone of voice by the man he once – before tonight, considered his friend. And the ‘though because you were so disobedient before, I think I might take another nail with me’ had him reeling, wondering if he’d been manipulated with words similar, and was taking revenge here.

“Stop. Pause it. Stop it. Just –“

Kageyama closed the lid of the computer, “Do you understand what we’re telling you? You can’t –“

“I know.” Kuroo snapped, head in his hands, leaning on his knees, then raking his fingers through his hair, stood up. More tears had fallen. He whispered, “I know. Fuck, it’s just a lot okay? I’m fucking trying.”

Daichi stood as well, wondering if it would be insensitive to lay a hand on Kuroo’s shaking shoulders. Kageyama, who hadn’t sat once, oddly stiff and still staring at the closed computer, muttered, “He has a sister.”

“What in his pack? Female omegas –”

“No, she has orange hair just like him, same sort of smile. Same glare.” Kageyama’s eyes snapped up to Kuroo, “Were you fucking lying to us or something?”

“What the FUCK DO I GAIN FROM LYING!” Kuroo roared, and Daichi could see the snapped wire of Kuroo’s mind, the very last thread that kept him breaking – broken, “HE’S MY BROTHER, FUCK I PRACTICALLY RAISED THE KID. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING UNDERSTAND HOW HARD THIS IS FOR ME. TO LEARN THAT MY KID BROTHER IS ALIVE, AND NOT JUST THAT BUT KILLING PEOPLE? SO SCARRED FROM SOMETHING THAT I COULD’VE PROTECTED HIM FROM, SO FUCKING TRAUMATISED THAT HIS SENSE OF SMELL IS FUCKED, AND HE DROPS JUST FROM LOOKING AT ME. I’D FUCKING DIE FOR HIM, IN A HEARTBEAT KAGEYAMA, A FUCKING HEARTBEAT. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES I’VE COME SO GODDAMN CLOSE TO ENDING EVERYTHING, BECAUSE I JUST COULDN’T BRING MYSELF TO LIVE IN A WORLD WITHOUT HIM? HE WAS THE SUN IN MY LIFE, AND I FUCKING LOST THAT LIGHT, OKAY?  

“GOD IF I FUCKING KNEW HE HAD A SISTER, I WOULD’VE TOLD YOU. IF HE HAD ASKED ME I WOULD’VE SEARCHED THE WORLD FOR HER. FUCKING GODS ABOVE, HE DOESN’T DESERVE ANY OF THIS SHIT, HE COULD’VE FUCKING ENDED IT, AND YET HE CHOSE TO PROTECT THOSE CLOSE TO HIM. THOSE HE CHOSE TO BE CLOSE TO HIM. I DON’T CARE IF HE LOVES ME OR NOT ANYMORE, I JUST WANT TO GIVE HIM THE LIFE HE FUCKING DESERVES.” Kuroo was huffing, and his face was flushed red. Lev and Yaku stood in the doorway, door ajar, foodstuffs forgotten in their hands as they listened. Kageyama didn’t know what to say, and Daichi, also was rendered speechless.

“I.. I just. FUCK.” Kuroo was panting, words stumbling over each other, with little care of what came before, but looking slightly less like the walking dead than he had before his outburst. His eyes slid over to glass to see Hinata staring back, not at him per say, but at the glass – and he wondered if the omega had heard his outburst. Kenma had told him that he could be quite loud when he wanted to, and he hadn’t roared in a long time.

“He’s becoming more and more like his father.”

Kuroo clenched a fist and then unclenched it, turning away from the glass to glance over at Yaku and Lev, his face not even betraying a hint of surprise and then back over to Kageyama and Daichi – begging someone, anyone to understand the pain unwelcomed on his chest.

“I was part of the Lord’s crew for a while, before my own parents started readying me to take over the House. He was as every bit as ruthless as that video. Lord Hinata wasn’t a protector of the seas, barrier against pirates. He was a pirate himself. All respectable and smiles on land, but on the seas – not even ocean itself could faze him.” It wasn’t necessarily a closely-guarded secret, everyone knew of the late Lord Hinata, infamous and famous in the same breath. But hardly anyone had the balls to acknowledge his ruthlessness, in death all they wanted to speak of was his courage and his fervour to protect his country.

Everyone in the room had held their breath.

“I… I’d follow him anywhere.” Kuroo had forgotten to mention the fact that he’d been one of the survivors, that he’d witnessed the Lord’s death, that even the will of his parents to become Lord Kuroo couldn’t eclipse the last request – to help his son bloom, in anything that he wanted to do. Kuroo had only two purposes in life, to one day mate Kenma, to love him and grow old with him, and the other to follow Shoyou to the orange-haired’s dying breath, or his own – whichever came first. And he knew Kenma would do the exact same, “I promised the Lord, I would. And I promised K–Kenma.”

No one moved.

“I honestly have no idea of what to say to that.” Daichi admitted honestly, tone kept serious, not wanting to come across as flippant to the alpha that had just exposed his heart for the world to see.

“Maybe that’s for the best Captain.” Kageyama remarked dryly, then pointed to the plastic bags held in Yaku’s trembling arms, “Are those chocolate iced?”

And the tension dissipated slightly, the most socially awkward person in the room unknowingly breaking the spell over the rest of them. Time started to tick forwards again. Yaku held out the plastic, “We got instant coffee, and some bis – don’t take them Lev, I bought them for Hinata.”

“Excuse me?” Kuroo couldn’t help but react to the name, instincts that had just exploded, had even left to simmer under his skin, instead crawling on top – very little control over himself. Kageyama, in the midst of opening a packet of donuts froze, and Daichi who hadn’t moved since the outburst – trying to coax his heart to start again (that outcry had hurt, he couldn’t help but think of his rural village that he’d had to leave behind, only to hear that it had been pillaged during the skirmishes up north), snapped his gaze to watch what would happen next. Alpha and omega skirmishes – between the two secondary genders, on an equal playing field – didn’t happen often.

Yaku rolled his eyes, and stared at the alpha, “If you intended to fucking interrogate the poor man tonight, think fucking again Tetsurou.” The way he hissed the alpha’s first name had all of them, including Lev quaking in their respective boots. Kuroo paled, because that’s exactly what he had been thinking. Yaku glared.

“Don’t you fucking claim all that piracy and Lord bullshit, I don’t give a flying fuck. I may have been a fucking prisoner but don’t you dare forget I was on that ship too. I chose to save your fucking life.” The omega’s finger prodded the alpha’s chest, and his voice, though angry sounded more territorial than anything. Lev’s face hardened, and the other alphas could only guess what emotions he was experiencing through the bond. Lev would never say how scared Yaku felt in that moment, how much he hated bringing up his past, “And I’m saying now you dipshit, that you’ve waiting eight years, you can wait another night. He needs skinship, he needs food, and he needs to get to a fucking cell with a bed in it.”

And Kuroo, retaining some of his smarts that had helped him to maintain his position as the head of his House, shut his mouth and didn’t talk back. Merely nodded at the angry omega. Yaku turned to the other two alphas – the ones in uniforms accented in orange, and his voice softened slightly to show that he meant no harm, “Interrogate him in the morning. There’s not much we can all do when we’re bone-tired. Now, please, Officer Kageyama – where do you keep your scent masks? He still has the scent from the omega in heat on him.”

Kageyama wasn’t going to say no, “I’ll show you.”

“Here.” Yaku handed the plastic bag of foodstuffs to Lev, and followed the stoic alpha out of the room, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, but sending shivers down the three remaining alphas. Lev closed the door silently and sighed.

“Kuroo what did he mean he was a prisoner?” Daichi wanted answers, now. If he wasn’t going to get answers from the orange-haired omega until tomorrow, he was going to get answers for at least one fucking question tonight.

“He was the third survivor of the event that killed the Lord. In fact, he played the most instrumental role in making sure we got home alive.” Kuroo sighed and turned to Lev nearly pleadingly, but the younger, enjoying the weird sort of power he had over Kuroo, shook his head. No help there, Kuroo was on his own to stay subject to Daichi’s cold, cross glare.

“He was the Captain of one of the fleets of the Aoba Joshai Pirates. Raised on the sea, he didn’t have parents nor –“

Lev hissed.

“Anyway, we were lost drifting at sea, and Takeda even though he’s a seafarer himself – he’s the other one I told you about earlier – wasn’t used to working without his crew, and on a pirate ship as well. Electronics guy. Yaku, who had been working on different kinds of ships his entire life merely asked as where we wanted to go, with the blood of the rival pirates – Shiratorizawan pirates at that – still on his fucking hands, said that we were really quite lucky, and brought us here.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, you don’t fuck with seafarers. Especially those that can fuck with other pirates.”

And the clock chimed two.

•••

Sakusa looked down at the young man trembling before him in the foyer of his set of apartments, and then further out – to the five other people that had accompanied the small freckled omega. All looked exhausted, dishevelled, harrowed even – but most of all, they looked dirty. A feeling of repulsion, starting from the tingling of his gloved fingertips to the crook of his neck rocked him. But yet, he scraped the back of his hand to bring himself down, allowing the hard keratin and other assorted chemicals of his nails to ground him.

“I’m so sorry Doc, I just couldn’t think of any place to go.” Tadashi had grown and his voice was deeper than Sakusa remembered, though of course puberty would do that to a pup. He still had the same greenish black hair, same brave hazel stare – as if looking someone in the eye showed defiance, and in a way it did, same nervous ticks in the way his hands fidgeted together, drawn in front of his stomach, twitching nervously. Almost ready to put them up to fight, or… at least throw them up in futile defence.

“It’s fine Tadashi.” He paused, and scratched his hand again. This time touching plastic to plastic, rubbing his palm with his thumbnail. A scent of quiet distress filled the air, the sort of guilt that pervaded places like this, when clients came to see him looked so sorry, so utterly sorry and guilty that they had to come to a decrepit place like this to face him with their problems. He fucking hated it, but there was only so much he could do without getting caught.

It wasn’t just the government that was looking for him.

“I have some spare rooms, but they’re all set up as hospital rooms.” A refuge. He didn’t say it, but they felt it in the implications. Sakusa’s eyes skipped over the group and they snagged on a bright lock of silver hair that had fallen from the shadows. The elder omega who had had his hand on Tadashi back, who had stayed behind Tadashi and made sure he didn’t panic (Sakusa had been able to smell the others scent, and he’d nearly thrown up at the anxiety present), had sunk into the shadows, face dipped behind a taller black-haired omega. The cigarette rolled gently between lips Sakusa raised an eyebrow at but didn’t say anything, and Suga, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief as the appraising eyes swept right past. He would have to thank Ennoshita later for being an unwilling body guard.

Tadashi turned his head towards the man shrouded by shadows, another omegas hand – this one with soft orange hair that looked vaguely familiar, slipping into his. The man nodded and Tadashi turned back, “Y-yeah, that would be great, thanks Doc. We ran into some trouble earlier. T-thank you so much.”

Sakusa nodded, stiffly, trying not to frown at the familiar stutter that used to be so much worse and walked them through the foyer to the stairs at the other end of the room, the dim lights of the front room not doing much to help his curiosity regarding that one hidden omega, who seemed so insistent on hiding from him.

The entire house smelled of bleach, Tadashi came to realise quickly, Natsu’s hand still in his – the only warmth pervading him, the rest of him cold, cold, cold. The tall share-house – was that what it was? – the building was odd regardless – lacking central heating and proper lighting. Sakusa opened the door to reveal some stairs going up, up, up into the dark. Too cold, too dark – he should’ve been used to it, but his gun was in the van and it was too cold, too dark, walls pressing in around him, bleach invading his lungs, dim lights a spotlight he was trapped under. Etherised upon the table, spread eagled, pinned. Trapped, trapped, trapped. Can’t move, can’t breathe. Mask on his face. And the hand that held his felt hot – too hot, too much.

“Tadashi.” Sakusa’s eyes were wide, and the black plastic gloves that covered his hands enveloped his face, “Dashi, I’m here.”

Suga, who had just stepped from the shadows of Ennoshita’s back, ready to softly approach the omega, coax him out of the skin crawling panic attack with soft words to maybe lay a hand on the shivering touch-starved body froze at the sight of Tadashi so freely allowing another’s touch. Natsu stopped as well, breath catching in her throat as she saw one of her closest friends and family trembling like a leaf spiralling downwards in the wind, descending in the deep murky blackness of the sewers, caught in the drift of a storm. All she could do was not let go of his hand, and hope that it grounded him as much as this strange man’s touch seemed to do.

“Change of plans. You all need something to eat and drink. We’ll go to the kitchen first. It’s on the third floor.” Sakusa’s shift in tone was abrupt when he addressed them and the next change hit them like whiplash, as he turned back to Tadashi, still cupping the omega’s face with his hands, “Tadashi, we’re going to go upstairs okay? I know it’s dark, but I haven’t been able to replace the light bulbs –“ Sakusa didn’t mention how he didn’t want to touch the grime and the dirt of the staircase, how the light fixtures reminded him too much of another disgusting putrid home. He didn’t mention how every time he tried to change the light bulbs, his legs would shake so much that he would end up on his ass on the stairs he obsessively cleaned, staring up at the lights he just couldn’t bring himself to reach “– and I know it’s cold, but I can’t afford heating. But I can afford chamomile tea, and I know that will help you sleep tonight. And I have nesting beds, large enough for you whole pack, and they’ll keep you warm. Do you think you can walk upstairs? Or will I have to put y –“

“I’ll walk.” Tadashi’s voice was the smallest Suga had even heard it, and his heart squeezed in anguish. He wanted to know desperately how he could help the man, because fuck if every day in the past five years it hadn’t eaten him up – the knowledge that Tadashi was dealing with demons bigger and  beyond himself and the pack had been helpless to acknowledge it.

The climb up the stairs wasn’t difficult, even if it was dark. Sakusa, despite his aversion to touch, stayed by Tadashi’s side, allowing the smaller, but still quite tall omega to lean on him, listening to the depth of the others breath, ears trained to listen out for the tell-tale shortening of breaths that would clue him in to the other’s spiralling thoughts and impending attack. The rest of the pack followed, Natsu and Nishinoya quiet, but not so quiet that Suga and Ennoshita could whisper and be overheard.

“Trustworthy?” Suga asked first, trusting Ennoshita’s judgement. The omega had a lot more street knowhow, even if he wasn’t the most amicable, his eyes would pick up the smallest of details, and his ability to hold his ground in the majority of situations was admirable.

“I’d say so.” Ennoshita turned his gaze from the man helping Tadashi walk to Suga, knowing that the direction of where he spoke would help to dictate whether they were overheard or not.

“I’d say the same.” Kenma added in quietly from behind Suga.

“Yeah?” It wasn’t a challenge, but it sort of was, and Suga frankly didn’t have the energy to keep it from his tone. Kenma, though no one could tell, rolled his eyes at the childishness of it all as if he himself wasn’t participating. They both knew they could stop the feud whenever they wanted, understanding why the other thought what they did, but that was on a rational level, and their emotions spoke otherwise. Suga was just fucking wrong.

“They share similar backgrounds.”

“Oh.”

And silence descended awkwardly between them, as Nishinoya and Natsu’s conversation died down (they’d been talking quietly about Fukurodani, and Takeda and how he commanded a ship full of alphas who all respected him immensely), and they were left with no barrier between them and prying ears.

That is, if Sakusa had been bothered to pay attention to anyone except Tadashi. Not to say he wasn’t curious, that he didn’t want to look over his shoulder and appraise the man that had insisted on hiding from him at the entrance – with the silver hair, and the hand that Tadashi had allowed to calm him. He was curious, but his own curiosity was never priority, only the safety of others, and the safety he could bring to others. So as they walked he looked at Tadashi and softly – because he didn’t really want anyone to see him like this, because he didn’t really deserve to be feeling like this – smiled, “I really am glad you’re safe.”

“Huh.” The laugh Tadashi huffed was not one he’d ever heard, but it was good and it fit, so the younger omega must’ve found some good friends, “Tell me that again when we get to the top of the stairs, don’t jinx anything now.”

Where had he sharpened his tongue? No, he’d always had a sharp little tongue to snap back and stick up for people, though it had been quickly stepped on and squashed. Sakusa felt his smile widen, and then his hands began to itch and he stopped. Tadashi deserved to smile, he didn’t. Only one of them was trying to rectify their sins, after all.

The door at the top of the stairs clattered open, to the third floor (Suga guessed the fourth floor was an attic of some sort – it often was after all, Ennoshita just nodded and confirmed his speculations), and the light was blinding. Of course, it would be on. Neither warm, nor dim but bright cool white. Near clinical. Every surface was spotless, and in contrast to everyone’s shocked expressions at entering literally the polar opposite of what they’d been standing in and on moments before, Tadashi smiled.

“You haven’t changed at all, Doc.”

“And you’ve changed so much ‘Dashi. It’s a nice look.” Sakusa didn’t give out compliments like this, both he and Tadashi knew that. But too much time had been put between them, too much time had been spent together in the small dank, dark rooms with no one but each other to entrust their lives. Together, now, in the light, they stumbled over to a small kitchen, because now that their eyes had adjusted, it was clear to see that this was Sakusa’s living space, “Please sit.”

And to the others, merely, “Sit.”

And Ennoshita swore he could see his reflection of the polished wood of the bar counter. And Kenma swore he could fall asleep on the spot. And Suga cursed the fact that he couldn’t hide any longer. So, he wasn’t surprised to see the dark surveying eyes flick towards him, and then a gasp and a pale face growing paler.

Suga was glad Sakusa was a man of not very many words, or at least words that didn’t come to him easily when he was upset.

“You’re… holy.” Sakusa’s hands clawed at each other, the doctor running gloved finger over gloved finger, scratching. Tadashi and Ennoshita were the only ones awake enough to realise what was happening – Natsu and Noya standing and leaning, slumped on Ennoshita’s back, Kenma having taken the last stool at the kitchen counter and was using said counter as an uncomfortable pillow, “Sugaw –“

“It’s Suga. Just Suga.” He said, shortly. The smile that he’d plastered on grew tight and menacing and the scent of bleach that had pervaded the place for a moment – only a moment grew instead to be that of Suga’s honeysuckle and fresh linen, except without the fresh and threatening to strangle Sakusa, no matter how vital the other man may be.

Sakusa’s eyes narrowed, and Tadashi could see the Doctor’s mental and emotional walls slam into place, and the omega’s mouth thinned, “Of course, Suga. Can I borrow you for a second?”

“I think I need to nest my pack first.” Suga replied back with gritted teeth, “Unless you’re suggesting otherwise.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Sakusa snapped, gloved hand tapping on the counter. He should’ve worn a fucking mask when he’d gone to open the door, all these scents were driving him insane. He frowned, “I’m not going to turn you in. I don’t have any loyalty to this country, nor it’s law, nor it’s people.”

“Oh? So where do your priorities lie, pray tell.” Suga’s jab was barbed, and Ennoshita cursed himself for letting his Boss stay up this late. It was normally okay when it was just them and Suga was cursing and yelling at paperwork, but to do it with someone who had willingly given them a place to stay, he hung his head and shot Tadashi a look. Tadashi didn’t catch it, however, sliding from his seat and walking over to the kitchen cabinet, peering curiously through the glass. Ennoshita didn’t even have it in him to be distantly surprised.

“My priorities lie with myself, and no one else.”

“How selfish.”

“I could say the same about you.” It was pointed, and Suga did not appreciate it one bit.

“You’re looking at someone who maintains safety of omegas on the entire East Side.”

“So then why am I still getting clients? What’s happened to the West Side?”

“That’s why we’re here Doc.” Tadashi said, voice small but catching their attention nonetheless. Coming from behind him Sakusa spun to sputter out some absurd excuse to get Tadashi away from his clean appliances and clean counter and ordered everything, but he came face to face with two clear-plastic gloved hands, and a small smile, “Clear was cooking right?”

So what if Tadashi remembered a conversation from when he was eight years old about what types of gloves the older would categorize as. It had helped him take his mind off his personal hell at the time, and it helped him now, see the calm return to the Doc’s face, the pink flush recede from the older omega’s face, and the carefully composed expression return, “Yes. What are you making?”

“Tea, chamomile. Like your scent. After bleach, of course.” Tadashi frowned.

“How did you know?”

“You can’t supress it forever Doc. Besides no matter how much you hate it, your scent changed when I was there.”

“Where’s there?” Suga asked suddenly, butting into the conversation, but trying to keep his voice soft and calming, reaching out with his own scent tentatively. Ennoshita lifted his head from where he’d been lizard blinking against the counter, each blink getting longer and longer.

“I think you should nest the rest of your pack first.”

And Sakusa’s tone did not fuck around.

“At least the ones that are already asleep. I don’t want disorientated omegas waking up to the scent of someone vomiting.”

Sakusa shuddered at the thought of it, and the kettle whistled in the background. Tadashi’s hand clutched the handle in a vice-like grip and he steadied himself against the cabinets, forcing himself to breath deeply. His world was spinning, and Sakusa – though lovely to see again – brought back so many memories, so many of them good together, but coupled with so many bad ones, when there torn apart again and again.

“No.” A whine, “Can’t this wait? Please?”  Tadashi didn’t want to look at the disappointment on Suga’s face, so he didn’t turn. And Suga wished he would, so he could see the concern instead.

“Are you sure…? Tadashi?”

Everything was shortening, lengthening, twisting, spinning. He couldn’t fucking breathe. Someone laughed and Tadashi didn’t know if it was him, or Suga, or some devil in his head. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bring up those memories now. The kettle crashed to the ground and hot water spilled over his feet and legs and he could feel them blistering, but he couldn’t feel them at all. Too hot. Too cold. Thoughts crashing, black box in his mind screaming, demanding to be freed from the memories that ate away at him.

And in that moment, like so many moments before, like moments he didn’t want to remember, he felt the hot dissipate, the cold enter his body, felt the numbness and then a soft, “Tadashi, Tadashi. Stay with me. Feel me. I’m here.”

The touch burned.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. You were so strong. We all have our secrets okay?”

He hadn’t realised he’d started to cry.

“Just let it all out. You’ve been so strong. I’m so proud of you.”

Were those arms that hugged him? Is that what was burning? His legs hurt, more than the hug did. He curled up in Suga’s arms and sobbed.

“Shhhh. I got you now. I’ve got you.” He could feel Suga scenting him, he could smell Sakusa’s worried scent, he could feel his own control starting to slip, sleep calling to him.

“Not tonight, please.” How was he able to talk? He didn’t know. The light was too bright, so he closed his eyes, unaware they’d been open in the first place.

Suga felt the lax in Tadashi’s muscles, the deadness of his weight and immediately feared the worst, grip tightening around the omega. What could he do? How could he help? Had he dropped? He wasn’t exactly cold to the touch, but he wasn’t warm. Tadashi had had a panic attack, and was on the precipice of dropping, and now unconscious, was it that hard to add two and two together? After all the had happened, Suga was too fucking late –

“He’s just sleeping Sugawa – Suga.” Sakusa didn’t know what to fucking do. He’d seen panic attacks – hell he’d had panic attacks before, but to see Tadashi, the boy whose eyes he’d had to coax the life back into, whose determination to fly and free himself was truly astonishing, be so traumatised from their past that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about that time, he simply scratched the itch the quivered in his fingers, and watched in worry and concern.

Suga glared up at the man still standing, wringing his hands – black gloves matte, black gloves exposing the small of his wrist and the little stamp-like tattoo embedded. Realisation dawned.

“You’re from Shiratorizawa aren’t you? Is that why you said you have no loyalties? Is that why – ”

“Nest him. Then I’ll talk to you. I can’t –“

Tadashi’s scent hit Sakusa like a garbage truck. Like a shipping container rogue in a storm. Like a small dingy fishing boat sitting level with the flat waters, fish slapping the deck noisily. Bare thin arms and pale faces smeared with grime, guards with guns and glinting barrels ready to force a smile on any child when the patrol boats passed by, the others hitting the deck and hiding behind the raised ledges, stuffing themselves into open crates by instruction, muscle memory – in fear that the barrel would turn on them. Like a pair of blank hazel eyes, lifeless and automatic, darting from place to place in fear and only fear, no hope, no life, just watching for the next tug of the line, because those that caught goods got dinner.

And the scent hit his nose like a tidal wave. Like the steady drip of water until it wore away the rocks. Like the mesmerising viscosity of golden honey as they –

It was too much.

He had to stop thinking.

He had to –

His stomach rolled.

And Sakusa took off for the bathroom, slamming open the door in a way that surely woke up neighbours houses away and fell to his sore, aching knees, retching. Tadashi wasn’t the only one traumatised, and it would only hurt the other more to know how much his scent affected him. Staring down, disgusted, at his dinner in the gleaming white of the toilet bowl, Sakusa cursed his instincts, he cursed his nose, he cursed the fact that he would never regain his life back the way he wanted to, the he would never be able to walk long distances again, the he would never be able to traverse the waters unless sedated, that he would never be able to show his true emotions through his true scent.

Flushing his dinner down the toilet, grabbing the toilet brush to clean up the mess that he had just made, Sakusa cursed the fact that he hadn’t been able to change his gloves, and he cursed the fact that Tadashi would never be able to smell his own true scent – the scent the sweet little pup had when Sakusa first met him, that of sweet peaches and the rich scent of cream.

•••

Iwaizumi physically couldn’t leave the room. He physically was rendered incapable, mostly by the mass of limbs that had latched onto him, the omega who had been so easily picked up before now like dead weight. The room itself wasn’t easy to walk in either, the only cell in the building that had the dual function of a ‘heat’ room, padded walls and floor, a slightly raised bed in one corner, that really just looked like poor structural planning. Cushions, blankets, pillows and all manner of toys, of course all safe, and unable to be used to escape with, behind him in the cabinet he now leaned against.

He looked down, Oikawa writhing among the blankets, tears streaming down his face, silent whine, arms clawing at his leg, trying to get him to sit down. Was it even safe to? His scent mask was on, and he could easily overpower the omega if need be, but from experience he knew that purebreds – if they didn’t go unconscious, would remember everything. That enough made him hesitate. But then, he thought of the promise he’d made to Hinata, well, the request Hinata had made to him to ‘just talk to him’, and looking down at the tear stained – it was still so beautiful – face, he figured it would hurt. It was the least he could do.

After all, no one wants a heat. Oikawa didn’t ask for his heat to be this bad, he didn’t ask to be a purebred, it was just the circumstances he was dealt and had had to deal with.

Iwaizumi lowered himself to the padded ground and immediately Oikawa clambered on top of him, pressing his hips into Iwaizumi’s own, grinding smoothly and deeply, and moaning. And Iwa’s hands shot out to steady the omega as he began to slide forwards, or backwards – just sway, really, and clenched tight around his hips (Iwaizumi tried not to think about the omega’s small love handles). Oikawa whined, cheeks fogging red, eyes cloudy and glassy all at the same time when he realised the alpha was stopping him from rutting downwards.

“Alpha.. ngh..” It was the first sound of semi-satisfaction that Iwaizumi had heard, and even then it sounded strained, painful. Oikawa’s hands clenched at his shirt, pressing sweat into the fabric, “Please…”

“Not right now…” Despite knowing that the Raven’s name was Oikawa, it felt wrong to use it when he hadn’t heard it off the lips of the named himself. He wanted to hear Oikawa give him permission to say his name, to hear the perfect name quiver from the perfect lips once full of snark, now wobbling and shaking. Iwaizumi shook his head, wondering if the feeling of the omega’s slick now sticking to his long heavy duty work pants would be enough to send his instincts in uproar. Hopefully not. Those without sense of smell weren’t able to respond to much.

“Alpha … alpha …it ’s so hot. Need …”  

“No, no, not right now.” Iwaizumi pried Oikawa’s hands gently from his shirt, and when the omega whimpered, tightened his grip on them slightly, “I’m not letting go. I’m not leaving. I’m just going to move you okay? Sitting on my lap doesn’t look that comfortable, so I’m going to move you.”

His words were intended to sooth, and even with the distortion of the scent mask, they managed to do something in the omega’s brain, and make him slightly more compliant. Or, as Iwaizumi realised, as shift Oikawa’s legs from one side of his body to tip the omega’s lower half to the other side, effectively shoving the omega’s legs onto the bed – pliant, too malleable. Had Oikawa registered his murmurings as a command? Hopefully he hadn’t.

Oikawa sobbed again, curling up against Iwaizumi’s chest, not climbing back on, but not letting got either, hands coming back down to clutch at his shirt. His head buried into the alpha’s chest, directly over his heart, and Iwaizumi, tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder – because as much as the omega was calmed be just feeling another living, breathing creature in the same room as him, the alpha’s heart hurt at seeing the beautiful sassy, snarky, drop-dead gorgeous omega, sobbing and crying and hurting.

His hand, rough and calloused from years of work, fluttered softly over Oikawa’s sweaty arm, stroking him in a way that didn’t try and illicit anything sexual but just reminded the omega that he was here.

 “Alpha.” Oikawa tried again.

Just talk to him, Iwaizumi remembered.

“No, not alpha silly,” Iwaizumi fully leaned back against the cabinet, regrettably the only thing in the room that wasn’t padded and the only thing he’d chosen to lean against. His other hand pulled Oikawa’s matted hair from his forehead, lifting it up and running through it gently, carding it softly, “Iwaizumi.”

“Alpha.” Oikawa was pouting, and gods it was cute. The omega eyes had flicked up to meet his and they were clouded and searching, and wanting, and ringed in aged wisdom but adorable instinctual naivety – instincts that thought they could get Iwaizumi to fold.

“Try again.”

Oikawa squirmed and tried to get back on his lap, but Iwaizumi hummed softly, “Nuh-uh, I’m not listening if can’t say my name.”

Oikawa tilted his head, and laid his ear back against Iwaizumi’s thumping heart, crooning, all the while, “Alpha.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile softly behind the scent mask, at the gestured, at the omega’s tilted head and upward gaze – almost seductive, almost working, but Iwaizumi’s fingers stilled in their caresses. Oikawa stilled as well, confusion flickering across his face before he started to cry again, this time silently, as if he wasn’t allowed but then Iwaizumi pressed him to his chest again and realised that he was crying because he was confused, not knowing whether to press up towards the hand, or to nuzzle deeper into his chest. And Iwaizumi’s heart ached. He’d always had a love-hate relationship with this part of the job.

“Iwaizumi. Say it with me. I-wai-zu-mi.”

“Al –“

“Hush, you can do better than that, can’t you?” This wasn’t working, not with the sweet smiles, and the cloudy eyes and the whining. The only thing he’d managed to do was stop the squirming, but even then – not completely. Oikawa’s legs were twitching and moving and he was panting slightly, breath synchronising with Iwaizumi’s long measured breaths, but Iwaizumi knew it would only be a matter of time before another wave of heat hit the omega and his instincts doubled down in their efforts to find him a mate. If he didn’t get any contact in that time, then he could actually go unconscious, “Here, what about this. What’s your name?”

“Omega.” Oikawa didn’t hesitate, and fuck that hurt. The lack of a silence in between spoke volumes to how deeply anything the breeding circle had taught had impacted him.

“Did I ask what you were? I know you’re an omega, you’re in heat.” Iwaizumi rumbled a laugh, and Oikawa purred – only for a heartbeat, but he purred and Iwaizumi’s heart stuttered. He hoped the omega, head still pressed against his chest, shifting slightly in discomfort but an overall rather vacant, near content, near longing look on his face, hadn’t heard it. Iwaizumi carded his fingers through Oikawa’s hair again, break apart the clumps matted with sweat, pads of his fingers massaging the scalp gently. It had always worked on previous escapades with the Capital Investigative Team and tonight seemed no different, Oikawa immediately relaxing and tension, even some of the wanting longing tension, dissipate into the heavy humid air, “What do you call yourself? What does your pack call you? Can you tell me that? I think you can. I know you’re strong enough too.”

“Om–“ The omega shook his head, as if clearing away a bad thought and Iwaizumi held his breath, about to speak, but finding the words leaden and heavy. He waited and finally there was a, “Oikawa. Tooru.”

The way the ‘r’ rumbled into a purr only made the name seem more perfect. Tooru, Tooru, Tooru, Iwaizumi rolled the name over in his mouth, and it fit. It felt right. It was beautiful, powerful, utterly captivating.

“Is Tooru your first name?”

“I… alpha… please…” Oikawa’s – Tooru’s – body spasmed against his chest, and even through the scent mask Iwaizumi could nearly, very so nearly, smell the fresh wave of slick that had undoubtedly left the omegas body. Red tinge flushed its way from Oikawa’s neck to the roots of his hair, wholly unattractive and yet the most attractive thing he’d seen in years, and Iwaizumi sucked in a breath. Just talk to him.

“I know. It must hurt. It must be hot, is it hot?”

“So hot…” Oikawa murmured agreeing, eye sliding shut.

“Not right now,” Iwaizumi’s fingers found the omega chin, and he lifted it from his chest, and the eyes fluttered open again, “No sleeping right now.”

“Fuck me? ”

 “I.. uh… no, not right now.” Gods, his face was probably as hot as Oikawa’s body right now, and his voice wavered in his fluster, “I don’t want to fuck an omega I don’t know.”

Tears welled in Oikawa’s eyes, his body undoubtedly viewing that as a rejection. Iwaizumi pulled the omega closer, moving his head from the thumping of his chest to the crook of his neck, pulling him closer to the gauze covered scent gland. It was a dangerous venture, but it meant that Iwa could shift his position until he was leaning against a padded wall with cushions to his back and not the uncomfortable edge of the cabinet, and it meant that he could pull Oikawa’s lower half back over his body and cradle the tall omega.

“I’m still here. I’m not going to go anywhere, okay? Can’t I get to know you?”

Oikawa was inhaling deep inhales, probably able to smell some of his alpha scent as the scent patches wore off their effectiveness. Figures for not replacing supplies on time, of course they would have eroded. Iwaizumi could feel him sighing against his neck and quiet, “S’pose.”  

“Is Tooru your first name?”

“Mmm. ”

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

“No.. jus ’ tired. You smell nice. Like home. ”

Oh. He didn’t even want to stop and think about that now. Iwaizumi cleared his throat.  

“Can you say my name? Iwaiz–“

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s lips latched onto the border of the scent mask and his jaw, and for once his voice didn’t sound strained, or pained, or forced. Simply, breathy and wanting. Iwaizumi didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but he did know that his ears now felt hot, and his neck, forgoing the effects of Oikawa’s wandering lips, tingled.

“No not –“

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa hummed, seemingly content. His eyes were clearer than they had been in a while, and he seemed to be squirming less – so it must’ve been a lull between waves of heat. The next wave would be more intense, Iwaizumi knew that. One hand rubbed circles into Oikawa’s back, and the omega, stilled, then arched into the touch, another grumbling purr erupting for a split second before stopping. Was it a psychological block? Hopefully not, “Iwa-chan. Pretty.”

He frowned, broken from his thoughts, “Who’s pretty now?”

“Iwa-chan pretty.” There was less of a pause between his new nickname, he supposed, and the adjective. Oikawa was staring at him now, starting down at him, having used what little strength was still left in his body to push his face from Iwaizumi’s neck and look down. Trembling slightly, one sweaty finger traced the curve of Iwaizumi’s jaw, and then the curve of his brow and followed the bone’s curve, then the muscle of the jaw until it disappeared behind the scent mask. The alpha couldn’t help but release a small growl, not of warning, hopefully not of arousal, but definitely something instinctual and primal. Other than that he remained perfectly still as Oikawa’s finger tentatively traced out his face, around and around as the eyes focused and unfocused.

“So pretty. ”

 “Me?” It was barely a whisper, and he couldn’t be sure if Oikawa had heard it through the distortion of the mask.

“Yes. ”

And then the omega dipped down to nuzzle back to his chest, seemingly more comfortable as he whispered, “Warm.., safe.., Iwa-chan.”

But just as Iwaizumi smiled, and went to rub patterns onto the omega’s back, something shifted in the air, something shifted in the body lying on his chest, and the omega’s expression contorted from comfortable to anguish to agony. Oikawa writhed, whimpering, whining, “Hot, hurt.., it hurts. Make it stop!” It was the most he’d said all night in one sentence, just screaming, hands clasping at Iwaizumi’s shirt – unable to hurt himself, even in his own agony, unable to relieve his pain, “Make it stop. It’s hot. Burns. Burning. Stop. Stop...stop.”  

It was all Iwaizumi could do to stay there, patting Oikawa’s back, stroking his hair, trying to maintain a level of closeness that wouldn’t be mistaken for sexual misconduct by Hinata, that wouldn’t set of the omega’s extremely sensitive instincts.

And then, at the peak of it all, then the writhing had turned into thrashing, Oikawa’s sweaty slippery, slick-coated body froze and he opened his mouth wide to reveal small canines, opened in a silent scream. Except, with the zinging of every nerve in Iwaizumi’s body he knew that it wasn’t a normal silent scream, not one caused by hoarse voice. His inner alpha was telling him to get out of there, not in, but out.

“Oikawa, hey,” The omega had relaxed entirely, turning to putting in his hands. Iwaizumi set the omega’s head back by his heart, willing him to stay awake, “Do you reckon you can tell me what happened then?”

Oikawa smiled, eyes glossed over, “Mates.”

Oh.

“Called them. ”

Shit.

•••

In three different corners of the city, three different heads turned at the same time, same tingling sensation travelling through their body, same urge to hunt present in their veins, responding to the same call.

Sitting at his desk, alone, the CEO turned to his window of bulletproof glass that gazed out onto the swathes of warehouses below. It was one of the West Side’s tallest buildings and marred the stars in the night sky, a black looming wall, a reminder of who the West Side belonged to. The mighty eagle wouldn’t back down from a challenge, not when his mate had called.

One the shores of a private bay the snake pulled himself from the waters, enjoying the moon to himself, reflecting off the calm water. Maids dipped and bowed holding sparse pieces of fabric up daintily to show their reverence, but no indecently so. That was done on the snake’s own accord, all smirks and smiles and self-satisfaction. Finally, finally, he would be able to take back what was his, finally all would be right in the world. He only hoped he’d be able to hide them for long.

At the edges of the city, the alpha motioned for the driver to pull over, removing himself from the car with far more grace than one would expect of a man as large as he. Holding two fingers to his mouth the alpha called a silent whistle that had his silent friend join him, talons digging into the fabric of his shirt and the soft skin below. Yet the man didn’t even flinch, his irises deepening until their normally light gold seemed near copper, and his nose twitched. He’d finally arrived at the Port, and for the first time his mate had called. Silver tips of his hair catching the moonlight, both the horned owls took flight – only one of them metaphorically.

After all, their mate had called.

Chapter Text

Hinata didn’t know where he was being taken, the images blurry in front of him. Was it day, night or something artificial in between? He felt drained, the life sucked out of him and the touch, the touch burned. The small omega, dressed in loose but still flattering black heavy-duty clothes before him was smiling, but Hinata couldn’t keep his eyes open for long enough to catch his gaze. Soft whispers, his own whimpers at the burning touch. Harsh light, distant noises, and the movement from place to place.

Where was Oikawa?

There had always been a sense of clarity whenever he was with Oikawa, he’d always felt safe. Oikawa was the only one who knew the depth of his past, at least those two years that had changed his whole fucking life. He protected Hinata, and Hinata protected him. And yet he’d gone off with the Officer, his body trembling with heat and want and lust and Hinata had done nought to prevent that. What if he was being taken? What if he –

“Eat.”

A command, that came from an omega’s mouth, a motherly touch that made Hinata want to break down. Opening his eyes blearily, he couldn’t focus on the beige blob outstretched in the other omega’s hand, nor the face that lay beyond it. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted Suga.

He wanted to go home and nest.

Except every home he’d ever known had gone up in flames – or at least, disappeared.

Something hot burned in his eyes but he couldn’t cry, not now. He had to be strong, for Oikawa, for Suga, for all the little omegan pups that they’d saved over the years, for the gang’s fucking reputation and his alphan brother undoubtedly watching on anxiously. Exhausted. And the touch burned, but the material felt heavenly.

“There’s food for you when you wake up.”

Slipping off into the dark abyss that beckoned him lovingly. Hinata shut his eyes for good.

“I told you he’s exhausted.” Yaku sighed, closing the door softly behind him, and glared at Kuroo – daring him to try and enter. This particular holding cell was just a small room with a smaller bed (not even fit for nesting he’d thought disgustingly), bars for the headboard, cuffs clanging when he’d fixed them to it, but Hinata hadn’t moved. In fact, Yaku doubted he would even remember being transported there, nor the soft inquiring touch that Yaku had initiated, from which Hinata had first whimpered and leaned in then backed away, mumbling, “Su… Kawa… not the same.”

Instincts first, Yaku wouldn’t betray the omegas trust, nor Lev’s. He kept what seemed to be the first few inklings of some names to himself.

“And you look fucking dead yourself after your little outburst earlier.” The omega couldn’t help but fix him with a hard glare, and Kuroo glared right back.

“Sorry for having trouble fucking coping I –“

“Yeah we know Kuroo, we know okay? Stop blaming yourself for things that you can’t control.” Yaku looked beside him as Kuroo followed him down the hall, the alpha’s head turning every now and then to gaze longingly at the door. In those moments Yaku sought to appraise the man, and what he found settled his stomach into a pit of pity.

Kuroo looked beyond tired, his emotions writhing over every inch of his tense body, nearly hard to decipher despite their obvious presence – purely because of the sheer number of conflicting feelings. His bed hair was more ruffled than he’d seen it in years, any gel that had been pulled through in attempt to make it look purposeful had been washed out by the oils on his hands, raking through every few seconds in a desperate attempt to relieve tension. Tension in his shoulders, hiked to his years. Tension in his back and the fluctuations between rigidity and fluid – slumping over, haunching into himself as if wanted his skin and bones to cave in on the hollow sensations in his chest. Sensations that made themselves painfully obvious in his scent, a scent Yaku would’ve been unable to stand had he not been mated.

“Well, I can’t fucking help it can I? He’s just changed so much, and I don’t know yet if it’s for better or for worse. And –“

“Stop blaming yourself.” Yaku’s fist stopped right before Kuroo’s stomach, and the alpha halted before he walked right into it. Tired eyes met the challenging gaze, and Daichi who was just removing himself from the room where Iwaizumi had taken Oikawa – the alpha had on a scent mask and was currently bundling up the thin coat he’d put on to soak up the scent in the room – couldn’t help but overhear, and couldn’t help but wonder if Crow would take a liking to the fierce omega. He was curious to what his past was, and what Kuroo would’ve said if Lev hadn’t stopped him, with a grim, grimacing face. Yaku stepped in front of Kuroo and jabbed at him with his finger, hitting the alpha in the sternum, “Don’t you dare fucking fall down that same hole you did when you realised Lord Hinata was dead. There are people still alive out there depending on you to be a leader, to step up and pull your weight. We’ll grieve when we’re dead Tetsurou or when they’re dead. Shoyou is alive. So fucking step up.”

“It’s been –“

“I’m warning you now Kuroo Tetsurou. Don’t mess with me tonight. I’ve stabbed you once I’ll stab you again if that’s what it takes to make you wake up to yourself.” The omega was not backing down, his scent, so carefully concealed was puncturing the surrounding air delicately, sharp sweetness becoming tart, the cherry smell mixed with his alpha’s chestnut haze, growing unpleasant quickly, “You have a job to do. Even if you’ve broken your promise to the Lord, you still have time in your life to make it up. Got it?”

No alpha would like bending to an omega, their pride stupid and overeager to rise. Had it been any other time, any other people standing there, the alpha would’ve told the omega to fuck off, or used a command to shut him up – put him in his place, but Daichi knew better than to expect to see that. He’d seen a lot of surprising things over the past week or so, so when he saw Kuroo growl lowly, in more of a whine of reluctant acknowledgment, he wasn’t shocked, nor surprised.

“Fine. But you’re not going to stop me from seeing him in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.”

“Oh, shut up. Had it not been for the laws, I would’ve elected you as Captain.” Kuroo rolled his eyes, and shoved the omega playfully, whose glare dropped immediately to a wide wicked grin. For a moment Daichi could’ve sworn he saw the impending disaster, but then nothing blew up, or escalated, no walls caved in, no smoke bombs were let off – and the grins died down as Kuroo ran his hand through his hair again, “Thank you. I needed that.”

“No worries, ‘sides I’m better with the ‘how to’s’ rather than the ‘where to’s’.” The omega slapped a hand on Kuroo’s back and grinned again, “I’m going to find my stupid alpha, so try and find somewhere to sleep. Can’t have my Captain dozing off, can I?”

And Daichi decided to clear his throat, alerting the bickering – or not bickering, it was hard to tell with these sort of friendships – two to his presence. Kuroo stiffened instinctively, his inner alpha reacting to the other alphan male, one he recognised subconsciously as a rival. A faint stink of heat rose from the bundle of clothes he held, and only then did Kuroo realise Yaku had put a lid on his scent once more, and was staring oddly at the other alpha. Oddly as in a barely concealed concerned frown was tickling his lips, and his eyes held a heat Kuroo had had turned on him only moments earlier.

“I was checking in with Officer Iwaizumi and the Raven, whose name I’ve found out to be Tooru Oikawa.”

And Yaku spun on Kuroo, removing whatever heat Daichi had been immune to in his exhaustion (he just couldn’t be bothered to engage with another volatile omega at the moment) and fanning the flames towards him. Yaku had stayed as Kuroo’s weapons trainer for a number of years post-boat wreck, after Kuroo’s Father (a strong female alpha who took shit from no one, and had single-handedly dragged their name through every single tabloid ever created and had been knighted by King Kita himself (the line between infamy and fame was non-existent she’d argue over dinner, a scandalous black-out drunk), had acknowledged him. And so, the omega knew. His mouth pressed thin and some of his cherry scent seeped into the air.

“Is that.. who… gods, don’t tell me he’s a noble too?” Daichi clenched the thin white robe in his clothes, clenched the bundle of clothes, and carefully tried to school his expression. He could feel, not the annoyance per-say, but the exasperation seeped through him. Fuck, he needed another coffee.

“No,” Kuroo paused, contemplating whether he should say it.

But it was a case, Yaku was right – he had a job to do, he couldn’t withhold information, he couldn’t stay in the past. He had to remember his promises, to all the people he made them.

“He was a… Yaku how do I phrase –“

“He was Lord Nohebi’s whore.”

“Oh. Fucking shit, is that how Hinata and him know each other?” The genuine curiosity had the grace to soak through Daichi’s tone. His mind raced with the possibilities. Of all… of all ways that they could know each other… of all the relationships they could’ve chosen to had with each other… it wasn’t exactly common for the wife and the mistress to end up being packmates, siblings by choice. Daichi hadn’t been too cut off from high society by his middle class roots to not know that. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew that whores and wives were to be kept separate, and everyone was told it was because the alpha would be unable to take that many omegas at once – but really, and Daichi had found out on one particular case that haunted him to this day, it was because omegas were territorial. Omegas were just as possessive of their mates as alphas were, not so much in the way of scent, but in the way of proximity. A wife wouldn’t take well to finding another sitting on their alphas lap.

So, for Oikawa and Hinata… Lord Nohebi’s wife and whore, no wife and purebred. Fuck. No. Lord Nohebi’s ex-wife and mate, Daichi reprimanded himself for using the terms that had first come to mind. Lord Nohebi’s ex-wife and mate. Gods above.

“I need some caffeine.” He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Are you an actual idiot Daichi?” Tsukkishima looked up as they walked into the main office, where the blond-haired alpha, crutches resting upon the chair beside him, was surrounded by charred bits of paper, messaging system bright blue and white on the monitor, with photos pulled up beside it. Three dots jerked across the bottom of the screen and another photo popped up. It hurt Daichi’s eyes to look at, and he groaned. Tsukkishima turned the brightness down slightly, “Go the fuck to bed, stop trying to beat –“

“I need answers Kei.”

If Yaku using Kuroo’s first name earlier had been a wide scale intimidation tactic, Daichi using Tsukkishima’s first name was an arrow that flew across the room in the blink of an eye, lodging firmly into the alpha’s chest and disappearing before Yaku and Kuroo could understand what was going on.

Tsukkishima’s face had twisted into a scowl, and Kuroo couldn’t help but quirk his lips slightly at the unyielding expression it had. When Tsukkishima lifted an eyebrow, the bed-headed alpha could’ve laughed. But Yaku elbowed him, leaned out into the hallway and gestured towards the adjacent breakroom, it’s fluorescent light spilling into the softly lit corridor, “Let’s get out of here, have some food and crash for the night. There’s nothing more we can do now except wait for morning.”

They left the tense atmosphere to fester between Daichi and Kei, but as soon as they left, Daichi slumped into his desk chair and stared at the wall, covered in markings, the white board, covered in conjecture. If he had been standing, he would’ve been in the same position Iwaizumi found him in, less than what six days ago?

“What happened?”

“Pardon?” If his tone was short, Tsukkishima didn’t mention it, ruffling more papers. Both were exhausted.

“Daichi, please, remind me of why I’m here again.”

Daichi groaned, knowing what the other alpha wanted, but not wanting to give it to him that easily at all. Alphan pride and all that, but also his dignity. “To call me on my bullshit.” He tried weakly.

“That’s Hajime’s job.” Tsukkishima thought for a moment, “And cooking. But no, why did you employ me?”

“You’re my friend.”

“And?”

“Because you’re a friend who happens to have studied psychology, data analysis, information systems and politics.”

“Exactly. So please, before I get Iwaizumi to call you on your bullshit sleep schedule, indulge me. What did you find out?” Tsukkishima leaned forwards on his desk slightly, favouring his right side, thus leaning heavily on his left and appearing somewhat lopsided. Not quite getting the intense aura he was going for. But he pinned Daichi with a gaze that the other alpha steadily – reluctantly – returned. Noting the way that the bags under his eyes had darkened, and his mouth was set in a thin line, jaw clenched. Noting how the furrow in his brow hadn’t eased, noting how even though they had two of the Corvids in their custody – albeit under some extenuating circumstances, that the look of worry had withheld.

Daichi wasn’t a fidgeter. Daichi wasn’t someone who easily bowed down to those below him, even if he was a fair and relatively just (relatively, only seeing as he’d easily agreed to the deal with the Corvids) leader. Daichi was the unit’s head alpha. Though at this moment he wished he could duck his head and scurry away, away from his friend’s gaze, like a bird taking flight and refuge in the trees, away from its predators. But he didn’t.

“I checked in on Iwaizumi. Oikawa – Raven’s name – was sated at the time, maybe asleep, I’m not sure, but Iwaizumi was sitting there cradling him, and he told me that Oikawa had called for his mates.”

“Mates? As in plural?”

Ah, Daichi had forgotten that Tsukkishima didn’t know, “He has three, appare –“

“He must’ve keened.” Tsukkishima interrupted suddenly, his left arm jerkily traversing the keys of his computer, typing in the word to satiate Daichi’s confusion, “It’s a type of primal call that encourages specific alphas, usually mates, to hunt the omega down.”

“Like a rejoining?”

“Sort of. Well, it depends on what the call is – but most of the time it’s because the omega needs the alpha and can’t get to the alpha because they’re in heat.”

“Well either way, we’ve still got ourselves in a shit situation.”

Tsukkishima shot Daichi a look at the snap that echoed from his Captain’s mouth, but then that faded as Daichi stared back daring the man to challenge him. His inner alpha still hadn’t forgotten that afternoon’s squabble.

“Look, it’s nearing two thirty. I’m not planning to sleep until around four, but I’m also someone who hasn’t been awake already for over thirty-six hours Captain. Sleep, if his mates come in the next two hours I’ll wake you.”

Daichi, heard just what he needed to, his brain processing the words slowly and recognising them to be true. Tsukkishima was trustworthy, and by the looks of the messages pulled up on the screen – Asahi was still out at the – was it technically a crime scene? – scene taking photos. They were in a building full of alphan Officers. Iwaizumi was with Oikawa. Hinata was sleeping and secured. No one could get to them, and no one could escape.

Sleep came quick.

But the day came quicker.

No one had breakfast. Not a proper breakfast at least.

When Daichi awoke at seven to the sun peaking above the urban skyline, and the soft light streaming through the blinds, he realised why curtains were always preferable, and was reminded why that item was so high on his shopping list – a sharp ray of sunlight nearly blinding him. Beside him, laid out on the emergency futons (sleeping at the office was more common than he’d like to admit), Kuroo tossed and turned, Asahi snored and a few futons away Lev was sprawled across the width of two.

He sat up hurriedly when his eyes focused on the blond hair on a pillow on the other side of him, about to shout or yell, or do something, cause why the fuck was Tsukkishima asleep? Or more accurately, why hadn’t he been woken up? But before he could even make so much more than a strangled gasp, the Nekoma unit’s omegan Officer – Yaku, if he recalled correctly, shushed him.

“Have you slept?” He mouthed at the omega, trying to get up with as little sound as possible.

“No.” Yaku shook his head back, and they moved out into the breakroom and kitchen – their impromptu sleep quarters being a once ‘common’ room to relax, now just housing spare clothes and sleeping gear. The omega shrugged, grabbing some leftovers from the fridge and opening the container, “Well, I had a short nap between two and three thirty, and then at four when Tsukkishima came into the room to wake you up, I woke instead and offered to take over.”

The putrid smell of off mince permeated the room and Yaku immediately upended the container into the bin, threw the tainted plastic into the sink and went back to perusing breakfast options. Daichi opted to put on the kettle, open the jar of ground coffee and inhaled deeply, hoping that might stimulate some sort of life in him. He’d have to go for a triple shot this morning.

“Anything happen?”

“Nah.” Yaku tossed another container into the bin – this time the plastic with it too, not even bothering to open the lid. The glimpse that Daichi caught revealed a pale grey growth between the congealed globs of red. Chucking it was definitely for the best, “Though, actually – Officer Asahi came back, said he found where they kept the hostages. He was developing the photos when he fell asleep, so I lugged him over to the room and set him down. Boy, he snores like a fucking boar, I swear to god.”

Yaku only believing in one god was pleasantly surprising, and the comparison of the boar (Daichi had to remind himself that the omega was from Aoba, its climate more of a sweltering tropical heat) entirely accurate, but the fact that he could drag Asahi, of all people, didn’t gel well with Daichi’s pre-caffeine brain.

“I swear are all your leftovers off? What the fuck am I supposed to take to Hinata this morning?”

“Coffee?” Daichi supplied unhelpfully, basking in the wet warmth of the steam that rose from the water freshly poured into the plunger, and the accompanying smell. Oooh, that hits the spot. He dribbled a bit of milk into the bottom of his mug, and poured his drink, stupidly excited for his first sip. Stupidly, secretly – because it wasn’t just an addiction he faced, and it wasn’t just coincidence his primary scent was that of coffee.

“Um no, that’s not a breakfast food.”

“Is for me.”

“Is for him.”

Both heads snapped up to look at the dishevelled man in the doorway of the breakroom, purple bags under his eyes, hickeys blooming all over his neck and the junction of where the scent mask met his chin and jaw line. Iwaizumi looked like a wreck, but he didn’t smell – by the looks of his wet hair, he’d just showered. Daichi could faintly see the chafing of the scent mask, and wondered if it had retained its seal through the entire night.

“I can’t be out here long.” Iwaizumi grumbled, swiftly moving across the room to open the cabinets just shy of Daichi’s head, “Oikawa’s asleep, and I want to get back in there before he wakes up and calls for his mates again. I was able to stop it another two times last night, but who knows when another wave will start.”

He was mumbling now, preoccupied, and not really caring about the omega and the alpha in the room, Yaku with an undecipherable expression on his face, and Daichi with a look that said ‘I’m so done with this shit I just want my coffee’. Iwaizumi didn’t care, “His bloodline is disturbingly pure as well, doesn’t even want a toy. I’ve never rescued –“ He didn’t notice the way Yaku relaxed at the word rescued, the omega turning to continue his appraisal of the fridge – “a purebred that can’t relieve himself on a toy, even if it’s presented by an alpha. Gods, he might even be a descendent of the first purebred. Piece of shit breeders. Would – Dai, Daichi, are you even listening? – should I go protein bar or biscuits?”

“Hinata enjoyed the biscuits last night.” Yaku piped up, picking up something that was probably once green and was now intent on assimilating with the shelves. He discarded it quickly and slammed the fridge door shut, searching for soap after the weird combination of mush and mould (he wasn’t sure if it was celery or lettuce or sewerage that he’d just touched – which was concerning, because he’d seen actual sewerage, hell, he’d swum through it). Daichi hurriedly moved out of the way, though was lethargic and his hurry was more of a slow shuffle. Iwaizumi didn’t so much as flinch at the smell, scent mask still on, “Actually if there’s some left, I should take some to Hinata and move him to the interrogation room.”

“I’ll be fifteen minutes Yaku-san.” Kuroo’s early morning rasp entered the fray of buzzing sounds that bounced in Daichi’s pounding head. The Karasuno head alpha sat dumbly at the table and chugged his coffee, willing the caffeine to just bloody kick in already. Someone set another cup in front of him and he realised Iwaizumi had paused in his search for breakfast to pour both of them a mug, the scent mask now hanging around his neck as he sipped.

Daichi chugged down that too, ignoring the somewhat uncomfortable scalding heat of the liquid against his throat and slamming the mug back down on the table, catching everyone a little off guard – most of all himself, “I’ll need ten minutes and another coffee. Oh, and Kuroo? You should shower and get rid of your puffy eyes.”

Yaku laughed shortly and Kuroo curled his lip into a snarl before disappearing into the sleeping quarters again. Iwaizumi grabbed a clean container from the drying rack (how the fuck Tsukkishima have the energy and effort to do the dishes at three am, it was beyond him), ripped open a packet of semi-sweet biscuits (Arrowroots or some shit) and tipped them in. Yaku grabbed a handful and dropped them into his own bowl, then seeing the somewhat stale donuts decided he’d be capitalising on them before anyone else could and whisked them under his arm and out the room. Daichi didn’t blink at the chaos, just moved through it to put the kettle on again and rinse out the plunger. He still had T-minus eight minutes.

That was plenty of time for another cup.

•••

“Oikawa, I’m here now. I just went out to get some food for us okay?”

The omega was shivering, clutching the sheets with tears running down his face in near waterfall quantities. Iwaizumi’s worst fear had realised – he’d woken up while Iwaizumi was out, and his body had viewed the loss of the alpha as a rejection. Sweat poured down his face, red and flustered – and despite objectively looking like a tomato overripe and oozing, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but make a soft guttural growl of not approval, but of acceptance. Oikawa was beautiful no matter how he looked; Iwaizumi had come to realise that.

“Alpha… don’t go. Too far… please.” He was properly sobbing, nearly howling – loud wailing and ugly snot and large fat tears, not the daintier tears of pain that had squeezed out from the sheer heat yesterday. This wasn’t primal, wasn’t an instinctual drive to please the alpha by bending over backwards for them, this was… this was different.

Oikawa was shaking. Clothes stuck to his skin, and at the same time he pushed at them to get off, whimpering and sobbing and trying to be quiet but wailing at the same time. His eyes went from cloudy to clear in split seconds, and the emotions and confusion that danced entrapping dances… Iwaizumi dropped the container to the padded floor, and dropped to his knees a moment later.

“Stop.” He hated having to use a command.

But the hate was dissipated when he saw the muscles relax – forcibly – and the confusion plaster itself predominantly on Oikawa’s face. His brown eyes searched Iwaizumi’s, but they rolled back as more tears were forced forwards, quivering as another wave hit him. Yet the alpha had told him to ‘stop’ so he tried to stop moving, stop making sounds, stop worrying, stop everything.

“I came back didn’t I?”

The soft tone broke the effects of the command, and Oikawa scrambled onto Iwaizumi’s lap hurriedly, fists burying them into his shirt and trying to lift above the alpha’s head. Iwaizumi’s large calloused hands stopped him slowly, “Kawa,” He said warningly, but the omega whined and fell forwards, writhing. Iwaizumi sensing another attempt swiftly peeled Oikawa’s hands from his shirt and slung them around his neck instead, “Like this, Oikawa.”

“Alpha. ”

“Iwaizumi.”

“Iwa-chan.” This time it wasn’t Oikawa’s fingers that were tracing Iwaizumi’s face, but his lips, running along the chafing of the scent mask, along the ridges of the scent mask itself. The omega pulled back slightly, “Even when you take it off you’ll smell my heat.”

 A whole sentence? Iwaizumi stiffened, watching the haze in Oikawa’s eyes. It hadn’t shifted at all, nor had the high temperature of the body against his, nor had the hardness of the – pure thoughts Hajime, he reminded himself, pure thoughts. He took a deep breath, and then that was negated as he looked at a small smirk playing on Oikawa’s lips, and the lust clear in the gaze. And then a moan forced itself from the omegas throat and Iwaizumi felt hot lips begin to peruse the menu, tasting a bit of everywhere. Hot fingers trailed over his unmarked neck and the alpha moaned.

This was dangerous.

The second day was also worse than the first.

Oikawa hadn’t keened at all.

Iwaizumi could hardly catch a breath, what with the weight on his body and his vision filled all with Oikawa who was utterly breathtaking.

Had Oikawa decided he’d make do without his mates and settled for him instead? Iwaizumi understood logically, but couldn’t help the jealousy provided by every inch of his body.

Lips traced the curve of his ear and bit down slightly, and instinctively – reacting, he couldn’t help it really, he rutted upwards into the omega. The omega whose crotch was positioned directly above his dick, whose moan of pure pleasure eclipsed any music he’d heard.

This was dangerous.

And he couldn’t claim instincts, not with the scent mask so securely – too securely – on his face.

“Oikawa.” The omega didn’t stop at his name, too eager in wiggling the back of his shirt out of his belt, too eager in pressing hot hands to rigid muscle, too eager in exploring, and tasting, and touching, and pleasing. Iwaizumi growled then, low and slow – trying so hard to not be threatening, to not break the delicate trust that had, or he thought had, been built over the last twelve hours. Oikawa however went stiff at the sound, and immediately bared his marked neck. Almost like he was waiting for another bite. Or at least, punishment.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said softer, pulling the omega back down until his head met Iwaizumi’s chest, ear pressed to thumping, thudding heart. Comfort. Talk, “I’m not going to punish you. I’m not going to hurt you either. Okay? I know it must hurt, I know it’s hot, but you have to bear with me.”

The omega mewled, yawning then shifted his position in Iwaizumi’s lap, lining up his ass over Iwaizumi’s dick. The alpha noticed immediately and shifted him back to the previous position. Trying to be gentle.

“Aren’t you a little shit?”

“Slut.” Oikawa whispered back, hands trying to find the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt again, unaware of how tense Iwaizumi became against him. His head hurt, and his stomach was empty and everything just felt wrong, wrong, wrong. He wanted to be filled so badly. His ass fucking ached. His nose hurt. He wanted to be able to smell the alpha in front of him, to mix their scents together until it was only them and the heavy scent of heat and rut and sex, “Not shit…slut.”

“Is that what they called you?” Iwaizumi put his arms around Oikawa, hugging him soundly, rubbing the bottom of his chin over the omega’s head, even if he couldn’t properly scent right now. He’d heard about this part of the process before – when purebreds in the process of integration back into society, had to be coaxed from their previous trains of thought – heck, he’d played his role in this before. But to hear this, somehow his heart hurt just a slight bit more. Something burned in the back of his eyes.

“His.. favourite name.”

His.

Iwaizumi would kill Oikawa’s mates. One of them, all of them. Whoever instilled this fucking belief into the omegas brain.

“You’re not a slut. Never.”

“S’pose.”  Oikawa was sounding sleepy again, and he’d stopped fidgeting so much. Did talking really help that much? It had never had such a profound effect on other purebreds, was he just that starved for contact? How many heats had he gone without a partner?

“Mm. Never. I promise.”

“But…” Oikawa looked up, hair ruffling against Iwaizumi’s shirt and hooking his heart a bit harder from where the omega had already snagged, eyes forcing their way into his brain, carving out a place in Iwaizumi’s memories forever and ever. A reminder to never do anything to make the omega look this heartbroken. Oikawa’s lip wobbled, “I need… always… help. Everyone. Can’t…” He was gasping slightly, and Iwaizumi rubbed placating circles on the soft skin of the omega, hiking up the sweaty shirt slightly to caress the bare skin. Oikawa softened somewhat at the touch, but he still tried to speak through his heat-addled brain, “control…” 

“Oikawa, it’s biological. It’s perfectly okay to feel that way, your body just wants someone a bit more than everyone else. That doesn’t make you a slut. That doesn’t make you dirty. That doesn’t make you any more out of control than anyone else on their rut, or heat.” Iwaizumi continue rubbing the omega’s back, this time drawing comfort from the measured breaths as Oikawa quietened, chest rising just unevenly enough to tell that he wasn’t asleep, but wasn’t stressing or straining himself, “You’re not a slut, I promise you that. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

And the omega purred. Warmth swelled in Iwaizumi’s heart, against his best wishes to remain professional.

Then the omega shifted and fidgeted again and pressed down hard on Iwaizumi’s crotch, grinding softly in a way that looked nearly innocent, except for the slight smirk and heavily lidded eyes of Oikawa’s face. The alpha barely stopped a moan from leaving.

“Ohhhh, ah, uh-uh, you’re not a slut at all.” Iwaizumi shook his head and if he wasn’t wearing his scent mask, Oikawa would’ve seen the smirk adorning his face – instead all the omega saw was the laugh lines appear around his eyes as the narrowed down at him, “You’re just a little shit.”

His large hands stilled the omega’s movement, of which were beginning to grow frantic. Oikawa whined at the name, lips puckered and pouting, brow furrowed cutely.

“Beautiful Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi was leaning in, completely forgoing his professionalism, to embrace the omega, hands stopping their caresses of his sweaty back to hold Oikawa’s head to the crook of his neck, to move the omega until Iwaizumi was mirroring last night’s position and completely cradling the omega, “Don’t believe anything they told you, ok?”

Just talk to him.

“You’re so much more than what they say. You are beautiful and strong, and a little shit that near kicked my nose into my brain when we first met. Remember that? You were so happy about it too, smirking and shit. But I could tell you were worried about your pack. And I know they worry about you too. You have so many people out there who love you and want to stay with you forever, so don’t let the breeding circle’s teachings tell you that you’re alone. Otherwise, I might just have to track them down to, and have a good ol’ alpha heart to heart. Fist to fist.”

When Oikawa laughed at the last part, Iwaizumi could’ve died from embarrassment because he swore the omega had been lulled to sleep by the end of the second sentence with how still he’d become. So, when Oikawa’s stomach rumbled a second later, craving a different type of filling, and the face went redder than it already was, Iwaizumi laughed as well.

And breakfast, whilst late and strictly innutritious, wasn’t entirely forgotten.

•••

Yaku opened the door to Hinata’s room to see the omega curled up in the corner of the cot, back wedged against the bars in a way that looked almost painful, knees to his chest, and cuff clinking on the metal. Hair ruffled, eyes squeezed shut – he smelled strongly of distress and unease. And his body looked cold.

“Hinata?”

In a flash Hinata had jolted awake, leaping forward with a furious look in his eyes, before getting jerked back. His arm twisted, he let out a cry of pain. Yaku was stunned because, before his physical limitations had set in, the omega’s outstretched arm had nearly touched him. And Yaku, someone who had been dodging swords, firing guns, scavenging and stealing since he was fresh on his sea legs, hadn’t been able to react. The boy really was the son of the Lord, speed frightening. Inhumane.

“What the fuck do you want.”

Ah, same bluntness. It would be best to return the gesture so Yaku straightened, clutching the bowl in his hands, and glared down at the omega, “I brought you breakfast, and then we’ll be moving to the interrogation room.”

“Right.” Hinata eyed him warily, but couldn’t ignore the gnawing of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in a while, since lunchtime yesterday if he remembered correctly. Trust, he should trust the omega standing in front of him, he was his fellow in secondary gender and an officer of the law – but that badge was exactly why he didn’t want to trust. The law was not kind to omegas, the law could do whatever it wanted to him. He sniffed, eyes darting over Yaku’s face, daring him to try and do something, “What’s for breakfast?”

It was a big change from yesterday’s post-drop fatigue, and Yaku, knowing they could both take care of themselves, and Hinata would be an absolute idiot for trying to attack him, sat down beside the omega on the bed, showing him the bowl.

“The idiot alphas who run this precinct think they can live off mouldy leftovers, so all I have is semi-stale donuts and some biscuits.” Yaku shook his head at the pitiful amount he’d brought, and stilled when he heard the orange-haired male’s stomach rumble loudly, “I would’ve brought some lasagne, but that was growing, so I left it.”

Hinata chuckled, but it was short lived and he cut it off before his amusement at the omega’s dry comment could truly show. He couldn’t get too comfortable. Kenma would like this omega, he decided suddenly and he wondered if they knew each other. Could they be friends? With his one free hand – as the other was cuffed, and his shoulder aching from the horrible wrenching of earlier – he picked up one of the chocolate iced donuts. For a second he caught a faint whiff of scent, not the omegas, not any alpha in general but that one, Officer Kageyama, smelling oh so faintly like the ocean waves. His stomach rolled, but he stuffed his face regardless, hunger overcoming his unease.

Beside him Yaku picked a biscuit from the bowl and nibbled it, savouring the taste.

“How… um.” He didn’t know how to start this conversation, but Yaku’s curiosity had been bubbling corrosively inside of him, wearing down each layer of protection until he felt he just had to ask, “How much do you remember of your father, Hinata?”

The other’s face darkened, but Yaku didn’t move, nor say anything, just watched.

“Not much.” Hinata said carefully, slowly, as if he was trying to piece together the words he could say and omit the words his couldn’t. This wouldn’t be the full truth – it never was, “He was away a lot, and said it was dangerous for omegas to join him.”

Clenched jaw.

Both of them, simultaneously.

“But, I know that was for our protection. And I know he couldn’t help but want to protect Ma, but so did I. Loud, brazen, caring – he didn’t really give a fuck about anything except for his crew, and for us.” Hinata paused, shoving the rest of the donut in his mouth, “I remember him promising me that after I became regular he’d start training me to take over his ship. Appropriate or not.”

He swallowed, not for the food, but for the emotion that welled in his throat and his eyes. Hinata sighed, wiping them. Yaku watched as his face split for a second, grief shining through, before moulding over in an impassive mask, “And… well, you know what happened next.”

Yaku nodded, looking away, then glancing back. In a voice, neither soft nor harsh, but begetting of equals said, “What sort of things did he promise to teach you?”

“I can't tell you."

"And why can't you?"

Hinata stopped Yaku with a look, that halted the omega in his tracks – telling him to step down or expect things to get violent, “Because, you’re a cop. Because you’re mated, and I can’t compromise my family.”

Yaku wasn’t sure if he was referring to his pack, his blood family or his adoptive family, but he wasn’t about to ask, not with the small shivers that traversed his body in sharp, but thankfully invisible jolts, not with the eyes and the hair that reminded him of his former captor. Instead, he just nodded in acknowledgement (he wasn’t about to verbally accept his loss), and offered the bowl to Hinata once more, who took the second donut without hesitation. Maybe he just didn’t like biscuits.

Breakfast finished without much over trouble.

But Hinata wasn’t full.

He was never full.

He wanted to scream and curse, and fight and find Oikawa and get the fuck out of there to find Suga and collapse in his arms and his fresh, freeing scent that he couldn’t smell but knew would envelop him anyway. He wanted to see Ennoshita, to see the orange glow of the cigarette between quietly curling lips, as he chuckled at the antics of the group, a solid steady hand that they hadn’t realised they needed until eight months ago when the omega had joined. He wanted to see Tadashi, to run his fingers through soft hair and listen to the small but lyrical voice murmur over plans and visions for the future. He wanted to see Natsu – to just hold her, to nest, to smile with, to continue catching her up on lost time. Kenma too, the glinting eyes and the wry comments that had him laughing like nothing else, the skinship that reminded him so much of his home. And Nishinoya, despite him being a few days fresh to the pack – his enthusiasm and drive already rivalled Hinata’s own, infectious and enthralling.

He wanted his family, his new one, because the gods knew the memories of his old one hurt so much. It hurt, and it was confusing. And what he wouldn’t give to get rid of the confusion that had followed him for a decade and a half. Omega, alpha – why treat them differently? Noble, governor – why such a divide? Teaching, training – couldn’t he learn what his father intended? Was his body trying to protect him or hurt him, would he ever find out?

Hinata sighed.

Yaku watched him, curiously. Then after a minute of stagnant silence, he stood, placing the bowl on the bed, the biscuits untouched, and turned to the man, walking over to where the metal clinked against metal and unlocked the cuff.

“If you do anything dumb, Hinata, I’ll have no choice to restrain you further.” Yaku slipped the key back into a pocket Hinata hadn’t noticed until now. The omega rolled his shoulder gently, feeling the twinge of the muscles as they relaxed into a less painful position. Cradling his left wrist with his right, he flexed it as well, nodding absentmindedly. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, “But I think you’re not that much of a fucktard to do something so idiotic.”

Hinata chose to remain silent, chose to try and keep the boiling in his blood to a simmer, as an urge to claw Yaku’s eyes out overcame him. Of course, he wasn’t a fucking idiot, but he couldn’t help but want to run. Would Kuroo be there? In the interrogation? Would he ask about – his hands brushed over his scar. No, this would be about the omegas they’d been trafficking, not that. Never that. No one could ever know. Ever.

•••

Quiet. Kageyama watched the omega squirm and he wished he could be on the other side of the glass, the empty room he was standing in too quiet. All he could smell was his own scent, and while he didn’t dislike it (what sort of person would you be if you didn’t like your own fucking scent?), his body craved – his nose urged him to find – the sharpness of the ginger and the bitter sweetness of the sunflowers. His ears didn’t like the quiet.

Which is why he jumped when the door to the other room opened and Daichi stepped in, the slamming of it behind him following the static into the room. Kageyama knew he was on edge, but didn’t do anything to calm himself. How could he when the orange haired omega was glaring at his Captain, when the orange-haired omega was about to provide him with the connections he needed to complete his picture.

Hinata was a noble, he was gangster, he trafficked omegas for a living – he killed for his safety, for revenge, for fun. But Hinata was also loyal, protective, he was strong and Kageyama could see the mental strength and fortitude, the determination and endless drive to survive burn in those veins. He saw ruthlessness, he saw calculation and mania.

Kageyama didn’t know why he was so intrigued, so fascinated by the omega. He thought the military had killed that urge inside of him. Yet here he was, rooted to the ground, hanging on to every breath that was picked up by the mic inside the other room, every breath of the other man – waiting to finally know something about the other. Because something inside of him was scared.

Shit scared.

Scared shitless.

Because he had seen the other kill, watch him bathe himself in blood. He had seen him stand up to his boss and win. Seen him break through every expectation that had been set and blow minds with what he could do. Push the limits of his body to choke, to mutilate, to protect and get revenge – to grow. He had wrapped everyone around his fingers, almost unknowingly so, and had lit a fire beneath their feet to improve.

He was dangerous. He was a threat.

Hinata was an enemy and a rival.

And the desire, however twisted it was, in the omega’s heart – twisted something in Kageyama’s.

 Maybe Kageyama did know why he was intrigued, after all, now that he truly gave time to think about it, waiting for the interrogation to start. Maybe it was Hinata’s desire to survive, because Kageyama was all too familiar with the desire – in his subordinates in the military and the coursing, near-blinding feeling in his own veins – and he’d never seen something like this. Never experienced such an unstoppable force.

It was too bad he’d met the immovable object that was the Karasuno Unit, their steadfastness yet tenacious nature the main reason he’d joined. And Daichi, he was the most immovable of them all.

So Kageyama watched with curiosity, wondering how much information his Boss would be able to extract.

Daichi meanwhile, was watching the omega, turning on the audio recorder absentmindedly and waiting for Kuroo. He could feel Hinata watching him, hear the clinking of the cuffs against the loop that jutted from the table. Eyes never straying for the Captain’s face. Daichi cleared his throat just as the door was slammed open. And the eyes left him.

Kuroo and Hinata just looked at each other, before Hinata started to pant once more, tears unwillingly coming to his eyes. But not falling, never falling.

“Uh…” Daichi started, unsure of what to make of this development.

“No, I’ll be –” Hinata said thickly, leaning forward and pulling his hands back at the same time, jerking them on the metal. He rubbed his face harshly and pulled back with a much more sombre, slightly more composed expression – though his eyes still shone with emotion, “Ok.”

“Ok.” Kuroo echoed, almost subconsciously.

“Well then, let’s get this over with shall we?” Hinata tried to clap his hands together, but couldn’t, though an odd smile still crossed his face and stuck – looking almost resigned. The alphas didn’t know what to make of it, but Hinata knew, he fucking knew, that he needed to protect his family, that he needed to get out of there before he said something he shouldn’t. So many mistakes rested on his shoulders. So many pitfalls had been because of him. He didn’t want to add to the growing list of sins (not by law, by Suga) by fucking this up too.

“Right.” A pause by Daichi. Then a clearing of a throat, “Before we start, I’ll have you know that we are recording this conversation and whatever is said here may be used against you in a court of law, and will be kept for an undetermined amount of time.”

“Cool.” He shouldn’t let himself relax, not when Daichi watched him like this, not when Kuroo was standing by the door with an odd, strangled expression on his face that Hinata was trying so fucking desperately not to look at.

“Let’s start with your current occupation. Do you and subsequently the Corvid gang you are a part of traffic omegas?”

Hinata grit his teeth, but it wasn’t like he could deny anything just yet, after all – Kageyama had seen the beds yesterday, and the alpha was just too observant for his own good, “Yes.”

Kuroo closed his eyes and another strangled look passed over his face.

“Do you sell omegas into sexual slavery in other countries?”

Okay, okay. Sure, it was the second question, but that was too fucking far. All too fast he felt his rage spilling over the top of the boiling pot that was his body and he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his lips. He didn’t want to stop them. He didn’t give one flying shit if Suga berated him later – there was no way he’d let their information get that twisted. Bile rose to clog his throat as he spat, “As if. We’re fucking saving them from sexual slavery not the other way around. Don’t you fucking dare lump us in the same categories as those sick fucks who think it’s okay to treat omegas like fucking animals.”

“And who would you save them from?” Daichi didn’t bat an eyelid, Kuroo would’ve been impressed had he not been somewhat shocked at the sight of Hinata snarling at the other alpha. He remembered Hinata to be driven, but to see it so warped – well, he was torn between being proud and being, well, somewhat affronted.

“A lot of people.” Hinata had lost count of how many people he’d seen Suga threaten, how many alphas he’d seen Oikawa spit at, how many people he’d seen Tadashi shoot down. How many times he’d mixed blood with the pale porcelain, or beige of skin.

“Elaborate.” Maybe he wasn’t being specific enough, “Was your group the cause of the peace on the East Side?”

“Yes.” Was there any use lying anymore? Would he even be able to escape? Hinata’s eyed the glistening silver on Kuroo’s belt, the key taunting and temping. His legs jiggled under the table, but he forced them to still. Not just yet. He licked his lips, somewhat thirsty, “We cleaned it up quite nicely.”

In the other room, Kageyama shivered.

He remembered the baths of blood he’d seen on that very first night, the alpha struggle to breath with the red gurgling in his throat, stump of a tongue.

“What is the cause of conflict between the Corvids and the Central and West Side gangs?” Daichi glanced down at the small list of questions he had before him, before clenching them in his fist. There were only a few more set questions he had to ask before the alphas would switch and Kuroo would have his turn.

“Oh, that?” Hinata laughed, relaxing in his chair, trying to play off his nervous anticipation of being kept there. He wasn’t entirely sure what the go was, because the gang had never been in this sort of situation before, but fuck it – he’d go with his gut. So, he smirked, looking at his hands, picking at his cuticles absentmindedly before turning his burning gaze back to the Captain, “West Side… we were at a truce of sorts.”

“Truce? Are the Corvids a part of the Omega Trafficking Crime Syndicate?”

Hinata refused to answer that question, but that was answer enough to the three alphas observing. Daichi rubbed his face tiredly, but continued anyway.

“Were the Corvids ever a part of the OTCS.”

“You could say that, but I’m not saying anything more than that. The bastards touched one of ours, and you’re not going to fucking stop me from going after them, with the gang, with your permission or without it all. Put us in the same prison, I fucking dare you. I’ll sever each and every limb of theirs, and make them feel the same fear omegas feel every single fucking day.” Hinata’s eyes darkened, and Kuroo’s eyes lingered on the white clenched fists, wrapped around the metal loop on the table. The metal clinked ominously. Hinata’s expression may have well been painted with blood, with how much he lusted for it.

“Sit down Hinata.”

Hinata hadn’t realised he stood, but he sat.

“Now I understand that you’re upset, but we need to continue the questioning. Are you –“

“Just get it fucking over with.” Hinata snapped, before mumbling, “Fucking bastard.”

A vein popped in Daichi forehead, and he felt for Kageyama – having heard the recording of the first attempted interrogation with the orange-haired omega. Kuroo snickered silently, lip curling in mirth. His brother still had the same attitude, unwilling to give in easily, even to authorities higher than him.

“I’d watch what you say, Hinata. The charges you have could land you in prison for life, but if you were to cooperate and give us more information, than we can work with the law to try and lessen these,” He tried to stay calm, oh, he was fucking trying so hard. He could see where Hinata was coming from but at the same time, Daichi could see the implications of his actions and the ruthless, lawless society his actions implicitly promoted, “We all want to see justice and equality for all races, genders – be it primary or secondary, and I can understand that you think your way of achieving that is the most effective but what we need is an entire systematic change – something that can only occur by changing the cogs inside the machine not be denting the hull.”

“Your metaphor doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Hinata drove his finger into the table, jabbing the metal to punctuate each word, “How can I work in the system, if I’m the one the system is trying to get fucking rid of in the first place.”

“They’re not trying to get rid of you Shoyou.” It was the first thing Kuroo had said since entering, “You can work with other Nobles to change the ideals –“

“Yeah? Huh? Other fucking Nobles, who openly protested – no, shut down – the idea of having an omegan Head of House, who took purebreds and omegas as prostitutes to breed and knot, and abuse so the bruises wouldn’t fucking show on their wives shining porcelain skin? You mean those Nobles, Tetsurou?” He shouted; fists balled again, eyes shining again – not with tears, but with hard, cold rage. And then he turned towards Daichi, voice softening to a dangerous tone, “You mean those Nobles, Captain Sawamura?”  

“You know that’s not what I meant, but –“ He waved off Hinata’s reply, the cuffs clinking as omega growled, “– We have to stay on topic. I only have a few more questions for you –“

“Lies.”

“You can choose to believe that Hinata. Now can you tell me where the rest of the members of the Corvid gang are located?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, this is the first time I’m being completely honest here, so fucking believe me. I don’t know. You can ask me as many times as you’d fucking like but my answer won’t change. Crow knew we’d be taken, so why would he risk telling us?” That was a white lie, because Hinata could remember the subtle panic on Suga’s face, and he knew that Suga got in that van to drive off into the dark, purely to get away in time, not because he had a destination in mind. Hinata’s chest constricted and he felt his scent sour the room slightly, and he hoped so desperately that his family was safe – his true, found family.

“I believe you.” Daichi said placatingly, his mind not yet able to tick over the things that had been said, too focused on getting through the interrogation first. Kageyama, in the other room, however was given that liberty and his head throbbed from thinking so much. There was so much information and yet the picture remained blissfully blank – the knowledge, the truth just barely out of reach, get texture tantalizing on his fingers nonetheless. Kuroo wondered how much this Crow person meant to Hinata. Partner? Pack? He felt out of the loop to such a degree that it was dizzying.

“One last question before I hand the questioning over to Captain Kuroo over here. Who are the mates of Oikawa Tooru?”

Hinata should’ve known Oikawa didn’t have the finesse to hold his tongue in heat, that Iwaizumi would’ve somehow coaxed the information from him. Anger stroked his heart, whispering at him softly to strangle the alpha once Oikawa broke his heat.

“No comment. If you want to know, you’re going to have to wait ‘til Oikawa’s broken his heat, and he tells you himself. There’s no way I’d betray his fucking trust like this. You should know that by now.”

Daichi ignored the jab, ignored all the jabs and just took the main message from Hinata’s mouth – that he wouldn’t be getting any more information pertaining to his questions right now, as yet. Though hopefully his childhood friend and adoptive brother might be wise enough to use this reunion as a way to extract some information. The eight years spent on this case had hardened Daichi’s soft heart slightly, only slightly, because he still felt the twinges of guilt at the thought. He stood, Hinata flinching at the loud scraping sound, “Your turn Kuroo.”

And the alpha’s switched places, Kuroo with no list in front of him, no audio recorded in his hand. When he sat, he sat with care and grace, well-practiced. His uniform was ruffled from his haphazard sleeping arrangements, for the first time in years having slept without the quiet background hum of machines and the gently scent of lavender carolling through the air, but his position in the social hierarchy was still given away by the silver cufflinks he always wore. The type that was embossed and cost a pretty penny. Hinata didn’t realise how nostalgic fucking cufflinks could be. And this wasn’t even looking at his face.

Would he ever be able to look the alpha in the eye?

“Hey Sho.”

Oh gods.

“Hey Tetsu,” And Hinata looked up.

Kuroo had aged considerably. Well, but he looked older than his thirty-three years, even if the age had just coalesced into the sad, guilty look in his eyes tinged with fondness. His bed hair was the same – even if it looked more attempted and purposeful now than it had when it first became his calling-card, when he was seventeen and fighting off post-traumatic stress disorder and a haircut from a blunt blade abjectly horrible. His eyes were still narrowed, and he still had that shady cat-like quality which enabled him to be a suspicion of everyone, and yet protected him from scams left and right. And yet, the alphas hands trembled until his grip turned them unnaturally yellow and white, clasped together on the table.

“Fuck, I don’t even know what to say to you, you little bastard.” Hinata wasn’t even sure if Kuroo was joking, but he laughed dryly, shortly.

“Yeah me neither. Didn’t think we’d meet again. And if we did, didn’t imagine it to be like this.”

“How’d you imagine it then?” A somewhat easy smile had wormed its way onto Kuroo’s face.

“Kenma can hide secrets for a long time, but you’ve always been a human lie detector. Especially with him.”

The mood grew sombre immediately. And Hinata’s odd grin turned into a grimace, “Sorry Tetsu. I – believe me, I really am.”

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” Kuroo tilted his head, resting it on his hands, narrowing his eyes and peering down at Hinata in a gesture the younger so fondly remembered, one that he used to squirm under uncomfortably, but now just made him sad, “I thought you’d at least trust me you know?”  

Did Daichi even dare to breath? He couldn’t turn off the audio recorder because of his duty to the force, but it felt so wrong recording a scene so emotionally heavy, so delicate. Surely the sound of the recorded flicking off would break the tension in the room – a wire so close to winding its noose around the brother’s relationship and pulling taut.

“Is it because I’m an alpha?”

Who would’ve thought that the roles would reverse and an alpha of all genders would be the one excluded for that very fact? Hinata shook his head, “No, I wish it was as simple as that Tetsu, it – it happened too fast.”

“And you didn’t think – no, wait. I’m not – let’s start at the beginning shall we?” Kuroo pinched the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his hair, “Why did you fake your death.”

“Wow, the first question you could’ve asked – why am I not fucking surprised,” Hinata gave a derisive laugh, to which Kuroo countered with a sly grin. Daichi wondered why nothing had gone up in flames earlier. And then Hinata’s laugh faltered, and his expression froze slightly as his eyes went unfocused and his voice went smaller – not small, just smaller, “It’s not a pretty story.”

“I’m not looking for pretty.” Kuroo reached across the table and grabbed Hinata’s cuffed hands. He couldn’t even fight – even if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to fight, so it was ok. Hinata met Kuroo’s eyes and searched them, would he betray his trust? Would he be like every other fucking alpha he knew? All he saw was longing, guilt, and – “I just want to know the truth. I’ve missed out on eight fucking years of your life Sho, I thought you were fucking dead, pretty is the last thing I’m looking for.”

“You’re –“

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t feel. I think I’ve gone through every emotion known to man in the past twenty-four hours, so I know very well what I can fucking feel, thanks Sho.”

“Right.” He seemed resigned, but Hinata was just trying to hold his tongue in front of the other Captain. He didn’t know how much he was allowed to give out, and as much as he wanted to spill his heart and reconcile with Kuroo and apologise and tell him everything and apologise for coming in between him and Kenma, unknowingly so, but still – for so many years,  as much as he wanted to, he was distinctly aware that he hadn’t heard the audio recorder turning off. Though it seemed he wasn’t getting out of this until he did give something of use.

“What do you want to know?”

Their eyes were the same Daichi noted; Hinata’s hardened with determination, tinctured with curiosity and Kuroo’s shining with curiosity and hardened with traces of determination. They held themselves in similar, though different ways. The way they talked, while not comfortable at first, had settled into something he could only describe as a house on fire, entertaining, amusing and with the distinct possibility for chaos.

“Did you start the fire yourself? The night you.. the night you died?” Kuroo couldn’t help but trip over the words, and Hinata twisted his hands to squeeze Kuroo’s hands back, no matter how much his arms protested at the movement.

“Yeah. I requested to go to the kitchen, and started the fire down there. Not on purpose, I’m fucking shit at cooking, but I definitely fanned it, and encouraged it along. Natural is as natural does.”

“Oh, fucking balls, Shoyou.” Kuroo lifted his hands to drop his head into them, his shoulders shook, and Hinata was unable to smell the subtle shifts that Daichi was able to smell – the latter covering his nose as the scent grew undeniably stronger – so couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. But then, he lifted his head and it turned out he was doing both, “Fucking hell. Did ya know how guilty I felt over that? Looking through the ashes searching for your body only able to find bones. I thought I got there too late. Like the accident had taken your life.”

Hinata paled.

“I… I didn’t think about that.”

“No,” Kuroo’s smile was uncharacteristically sad, “Survival mode right?”

“Yeah.”

Survival mode was something they’d dubbed that freaky ability of their bodies in shock, the ability that allowed Kuroo to travel for months on a charred boat surrounded by the dead crew and not vomit everywhere all the time, not shed a single tear for anyone but the Lord. The uncanny ability of Kenma to close his ears to the world, removing himself from any and all social interaction as soon as he felt threatened. A way of protecting themselves, and another reminder of a childhood Hinata couldn’t return too.

“Why did you want the fire?”

“Well…”

“Did Lord Nohebi threaten you in any way, shape or form?”

“He’s your friend Kuroo, I don’t want –“

“You’re my fucking brother.”

Hinata wanted to cry. Did Kuroo not hate him? His scent slipped from his control and the anxiety made itself known to the air. Kuroo’s eyes watered, and his tears slipped down his face, reflecting everything that Hinata wanted to do. Did he not blame him? Surely he’d heard of all the horrible things he’d done, not horrible perhaps – but necessary. Surely he’d heard of the killings, and the torture, and his fucking hormonal problems, or at least his mood swings. To hear the validation, spoken plainly and truthfully in such a situation, under such stress, he just wanted to sob into the alpha’s arms.

“Did he hurt you, Sho?” Kuroo wasn’t soft. He didn’t ask questions like this, tentative, as if the air could break with the weight of his words. And yet, Hinata’s lungs were crushed regardless.

“I…” For a few seconds he floundered, struggling to pull himself together. Stitching an obvious fake smirk onto his face, “Depends on what you mean.”

“Stop dodging.”

“Fuck. Yes. Okay? Happy?” What did they want him to fucking say? It wasn’t like he was a fucking dam, letting water through periodically, able to do so. No, it’d be like a tidal wave – he didn’t want everything to come crashing down. Hinata squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t look the alpha in the eye, “Stop pitying me.”

“I’ll break his fucking neck.”

And just like before, Hinata looked up. But this time, it wasn’t slow, the room wasn’t tense and silent, no, it was buzzing with the force of both their gazes, their scents intertwining. Kuroo looked livid. Daichi was also looking mildly alarmed, thought Hinata couldn’t care less to what person the alarm was directed at.

“How dare he fucking touch you. I can’t believe I talked to him just a few days ago.” Kuroo clenched his jaw and Hinata could see the exact moment his anger turned inwards, “I should’ve noticed the signs, I shouldn’t’ve let you go –“

“No, you shouldn’t’ve.”

The alphas froze.

“But you didn’t know any better, and you already were looking after Kenma. And I was happy, at first.”

“What changed?”

“Oikawa.” It was the first time that day that Hinata had let himself cry, and he couldn’t stop the cascade. He leaned forward to wipe the tears from his eyes with his cuffed hands, but Kuroo’s calloused fingers stopped him, taking care of the job for him, “He changed everything.”

“Can you tell us –“

“It’s not my place to –“

“Shoyou.” Kuroo’s hand stopped in its wiping of his tears, and Hinata realised that in this position, his shirt had fallen forwards enough from his body to reveal his pale (but objectively – not just subjectively – well-muscled) chest and abdomen, and he realised that Kuroo could see this. Looking up to Kuroo’s paling face, feeling panic bloom in his own chest, raising his hackles and twisting his stomach in knots – he also realised, that Kuroo could see his scar.

His scar.

No. No one can know. No one ’s supposed to know. Only Suga, only Oikawa. Only the pack.

“Shoyou,” Kuroo’s voice sounded as strangled as Hinata felt, “What happened to –“

No.

He swallowed and it was the only sound in the room except for the blood throbbing in Hinata’s ears.

Don ’t fucking say it.

“What happened to your pregnancy?”

And the room plunged into ginger acridity, the two alpha’s scents eclipsed immediately by the stench of rotting, too strong, too sharp ginger, tasting the bitterness of sunflower seeds against their tongues and invading their lungs and blanching. It was worse than the first raid, when Kageyama had shown him that room, and it was stronger and more potent. Daichi clapped a hand to nose to try and stop it, but he felt blood trickle down. Kuroo was similarly affected – except his face had done deathly white, and his eyes were fixed on Hinata who against all odds and his cuffed hands had attempted to lunge at the alpha.

His eyes were alight with tears; shouting, screaming, “SHUT UP. Shut up, shut up. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault. I had to escape. Just SHUT UP.”

It was desperation, his body was trembling, Hinata could feel every inch of air against his skin, cold and poking, prodding, prying. He couldn’t think, he could only cry and rattle his cuffs against the table in a desperate attempt to bring them close to himself, to curl in on his scar and his stomach and the pup that used to be there.

Kuroo looked stricken, tears quickly breaching the boundaries of his own eyes, lungs heaving in an attempt to suck in the heavily scented air. Daichi was having trouble as well, his instincts screaming at him to do something – anything, get out, comfort, protect? His blood hurt in the veins it resided in. They had to do something. Hinata was spiralling.

But it wasn’t them who did anything, no.  How could they? They were rooted to the spot, and not even their own distressed scents could reach Hinata – because as Daichi realised with muted horror, he had no sense of –

The stench grew stronger.

“How the –“

“I didn’t want to – It wasn’t my fault; I didn’t mean to.” Words, phrases, disjointed and staggered, a horrible mantra that raked its talons on chalkboards against their ears.

In the other room, Kageyama could hardly believe his eyes, or his ears. Except he had to, because the scent had seeped out of the interrogation room, the room that was supposed to be air-tight, and had pervaded his own. He could taste the ginger against his tongue, and his eyes were watering at the smell. The anguish it carried soaked through to his bones.

And before he knew it, his feet were moving.

It was instinctual, he’d felt something like this on the battlefield. But never this strong.

His feet were moving, and he knew where he was going, but he could make no move to stop himself – his brain completely disconnected from the proceedings, driven by instinct and instinct alone. Where was that sweet and soft, but spicy ginger carefully complimented by the bittersweet touches of the secondary scent of sunflowers and their seeds? How could he calm Hinata? How could he comfort the small omega that enticed him so? How could he ease the hurt in his heart, in his scent?

The door slammed open.

His eyes had clouded over, pupils expanding to eat up the iris, black. Everything black.

Kageyama crossed the room in two quick strides, uncaring of the alphas’ eyes against his back, uncaring of the trembling of his own hands the closer he got to the source of the utter anguish and distress and heart-wrenching guilt and grief that had made itself very known in the scent he breathed lungfuls of. Hinata’s eyes were on him, and they were filled with tears, and the other alphan scents were pissing him off, but he had the omega to focus on.

The first thing he did was unlock the loop, pulling Hinata’s hands from it, still restrained but now free for them to hold to his stomach and weep.

The second thing he did surprised them all. Including his now passive rationality.

Kageyama wrapped his arms around Hinata and pulled him close. Very close.

Daichi’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight, but they didn’t. Instead, they caught Kageyama’s subtle head nod to the door and he grabbed Kuroo’s arm. The latter hadn’t moved. His face looked sickly, screwed up, grimacing, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, puffy, complexion too pale. Daichi hauled Kuroo to his feet and pushed him out the open door.

“Remember your place Kageyama, and his.” It wasn’t meant to be unkind, just serve as a warning. Cop and criminal – even though in reality, life was so much murkier than those black and white lines. Daichi couldn’t help but cringe at his own words as he left the room, all too aware of his hypocrisy and the beating feelings within his heart, growing stronger with each passing second.

Kageyama didn’t give a single fuck what Daichi said, all he could feel where the tremors against him and smell the ginger in whatever confused emotions it presented itself to him now.

“Shut up. Shut up. Stop talking!” Hinata’s hands grasped at his head, clawing at his hair, his eyes wide and fearful. Pain bloomed short and sweet on Kageyama’s skin as the omega fought the alpha’s hold and fought what seemed to be the thoughts in his own head.

Was this why he had always seemed so unstable? Was this why he felt the need to protect so strongly? Because he couldn’t do so before?

The questions that whirled around Kageyama’s head were of no benefit to the situation right now, except to provide him with a headache, so he banished them to the back of his mind – focusing solely on the pain in Hinata’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t fucking mean to. Shut up. Shut up –“ The honeyed eyes wide and fearful weren’t focused on him, they weren’t focused on anything – not even the air thick with rotting stench between them. It stung his eyes, stung his heart, what was he referring to? Why were his hands shaking so? Kageyama clasped his hands over Hinata’s small ones and pulled them from his hair, pushing his scent – trying to dominate the pervading anxiety.

At first it was a soft oceanic mist, settling gently on Hinata’s burning skin. The hoarseness of his voice – not yet finished his crying protests – diminished slightly, the pain on the back of his throat easing. And then it surged, coming in soft sweeping waves, and the salty briny scent wrapped around him. The lump in this throat diminished, and a sense of quiet fell over his mind.

Kageyama heard the shouting stop, but didn’t let go. Still able to feel the distress in the air. He continued to release his scent, controlling wrapping firmly around his instincts to stop his own confused emotions from seeping into it. He was trying to calm Hinata, not act as a sounding board for the other’s panic.

It felt like he was floating, held in warm arms only now he became fully conscious of, scent making him feel like he was drifting on open ocean – reminding him of sunny days and nights full of sleep rocked into him by the swaying of the boat. Reminding him of the small trips his father would take him on, getting his sea legs, increasing his affinity with oceanic creatures; he tried to curl in on himself and sob. He didn’t want to think about his parents at the same time as his sins, how disappointed would they be?

“I didn’t mean to.” Hinata whispered. More to himself than anyone else.

Kageyama didn’t trust his voice enough to answer. Didn’t trust his tone. He’d never had to comfort before – not like this, not with an omega, the comfort he knew limited only to picking up his troops morale by a joke caused by his bluntness and observative nature rather than conscious decision. He was floundering.

Hinata drifted on that ocean, no longer drowning in his own panic, no longer drowning in his thoughts, just taking deep lungfuls of the alpha’s scent. He didn’t even question why he could smell it, what it meant for his biology, his hormones, his body – just allowed it to wash over him and settle the grief that had risen.

Behind the oceanic scent, he could small Kageyama’s secondary scent. Like a bakery in the early morning, the smell sweet, yeasty, mouth-watering and yet satiating at the same time. Hinata left the ocean to walk into the past, walk into the kitchens at a time unknown to the gods, imagining his mother, elbows deep in dough kneading it, flour smeared over her smiling face, apron done up, light streaming through the windows. His father stood behind her, gently running his fingers through her hair, hair tie stretched over his knuckles, looking at her with all the love in the world. The smell reminded him of the home he had.

And yet, there was also a probing curiosity deeply hidden within it, like a boy looking out at all the options of the world and wondering how everything was created, how the flavours blended together, how –

“Hinata.” The alphas low rumbling timbre jolted him from his thoughts, and he fell out of the alphas embrace swiftly, hands coming up to push at the alpha’s broad chest.

What the fuck did he just do?

Red blossomed over Hinata’s cheeks.

He’d just done the one thing he’d promised himself to never do, he’d had a full-on hysterical breakdown over something that he’d promised to never share. Emotions running far deeper than anyone knew, the depth only just in view of Suga and Oikawa, who had helped him through the process every step of the way.

He held his breath in fear of what the alpha was going to say next, but despite the sudden light-headedness he scrambled to his feet. Remain as close as you can to eye level, Suga’s voice reminded him.

“Are you okay?”

Um… are you fucking serious? He didn’t say that, but the words were close to tripping off his tongue. Did the officer actually mean that, what he said? Hinata recalled how awkward he’d been when Oikawa had received a call from his mate on the night of the raid, and suddenly it seemed like less of a joke. Probably as emotionally constipated as Hinata was explosive.

“I will be.” He hated how his voice trembled.

“What did you mean when you said ‘I didn’t mean to’?” Kageyama’s expression didn’t falter, his tone didn’t waver and Hinata could’ve died. Oh gods, he was serious.

His tongue felt fat in his mouth, “I’m not going into that. Not now, not ever. No one’s looking at my stomach, or my womb, and everyone’s going to stop asking me fucking questions about it or I swear to god I’ll stab everyone hard than I stabbed my ex –“

Maybe it was a bit of an overreaction. Maybe he shouldn’t’ve responded that harshly. Maybe it would be wise to ask for a doctor, to ask why his mood swings were horrible, why every time his body tried to go into heat it felt like a hundred thousand needles pierced his skin and felt like his old wound was being reopened again and again and again until one day his body just gave up trying, at all. Maybe it would be wise to ask why he could smell Officer Kageyama’s scent and only Officer Kageyama’s scent.

Though maybe he wouldn’t have a chance to say that at all.

Because as soon as stopped himself from saying the name that had tormented him for years, the lights shut off.

Abrupt.

As if he’d timed it to the word. But this was no flashing of Kenma’s hacking, no signal of Suga’s. White replaced by flashing orange and sudden darkness.

And all he could hear, besides the breathing of the man beside him, was the clacking of dress shoes on linoleum floor.

A demon growing ever closer.

He could smell it in the air.

Cracked pepper.

Cold sweat trickled ominously down his back, cold reality setting in.

•••

Suga stumbled out into the living area, trying to ignore the chill in his bones and the burning of his bare feet on cold floor. His lungs hurt with the effort of trying to sleep through the night, scent glands slightly swollen in his attempts last night to calm the anxious scents of the pack, staving off any more panic attacks that could’ve happened. It wasn’t their fault for being anxious, but he knew his heart wouldn’t be able to take another omega falling to the ground, either unconscious, dropped or simply asleep.

He walked with no destination in mind, unfamiliar surroundings making it harder to orientate himself having just awoken. Faintly he could smell the curdling smell of bleach, wrapping itself protectively around what he assumed to be the kitchen. Suga’s nose twitched. The scent wasn’t exactly an inviting scent, but he’d been around Ennoshita’s savoury tinctures of black ink and near vinegary wafting scent of heroin to know that not all omegan scents were necessarily floral, fruity or sweet.

The omega found Sakusa there.

Blue gloves clothed the omegas hands, a black medical mask was fixed over his mouth and nose, two elastic straps stretching back to loop his ears, pulling taut in such a way that he had to have made the masks – or at least ordered them himself. Suga highly doubted Sakusa’s face was the model they modelled the ‘one size fits all’ off. In those gloved hands, however Suga found the real point of interest, a spray bottle of sodium hydroxide clutched tight and in the other a blue dishcloth. Sakusa was wiping the counter furiously, after each wipe of sodium hydroxide – it would dissolve all bodily fluids, including blood, to be wiped up with ease, even clearing their traces under UV light – taking another bottle of bleach (go figure, Suga thought), and wiping the counter down with that.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry for falling asleep on you last night, I meant to come out but –“

Sakusa didn’t answer, and Suga peered closer, stumbling forwards and taking a seat at the bar counter. He watched Sakusa eyebrows pinch and the narrowing of the eyes, seeing a pale sheen of sweat cover the omega’s forehead.

“Are you okay after last night?”

Now that he was closer, Suga’s sensitive nose was picking up another scent, one he wasn’t sure of the origin. Sakusa’s eyes snapped towards him, Suga unknowingly crossing a very clear line in his personal space boundaries.

“Mm. Yeah. All the scents set me off. Not exactly the most pleasant memories.” Sakusa didn’t divulge much more, eyes going from the counter to Suga – watching him warily, as if he wasn’t sure what he’d say. The silver-haired omega found it odd, but the whole situation was odd – so he didn’t really think much of it. He didn’t really know Tadashi to have been to any doctors in his time in the Corvids, and he was looking malnourished enough when Suga rescued him, bones nearly cracking under his grip, “If the other omegas find my scent repulsive as well, I have extra masks.”

As well? Did Sakusa find his own scent… no, that was impossible. Omega’s scents were formed based on the scents they associated with happiness, safety or comfort. From the most momentous occasions of their pasts, their childhoods.

“Tadashi might appreciate that. He’s never been –“

“I know.”

Sakusa was defensive of Tadashi, that was clear as day. And so was Suga, but the latter didn’t want to upset Tadashi by starting a fight over him. No matter how much every nerve cell in his body urged him to lunge across the counter and demand for him spill each and every bit of information the man had about Tadashi, to reveal every intention. Tadashi was part of Suga’s pack, and while having a general connotation of protectiveness against alphas, Suga had never felt such a thought regarding a fellow omega. Before his body could act on the electricity coursing through it, he squashed the urge. Settled on watching the other man scrub down the cabinet handles Tadashi had touched last night.

“Well,” He had to swallow his pride, grit his teeth and smile. It came easier to him than he thought, “Thank you. I know housing a gang of six omegas wasn’t exactly on your agenda, so thanks.”

Sakusa shrugged, “I couldn’t say no to Tadashi.”

I owe him too much. He banished the thought.

“If there’s anything you want us – me,” Suga corrected, he wouldn’t drag the others into any form of repayment. He’d much rather shoulder the burden alone, “to do, let me know. I wouldn’t want to do your helping hand a disservice by not helping back.”

“Helping?” Sakusa set down the sodium hydroxide, peeling off the blue gloves, folding them and then dropped them into a silver bin. With clammy fingers – which Suga saw with grim realisation were covered in long, hair thin scars – Sakusa dusted his hands with talcum powder that appeared from seemingly nowhere and slipped his hands into  new pair of clear gloves. He replaced his mask as well, and Suga caught a glimpse of thinly pressed lips. The omega shook his head, “I don’t think hiding is helping anybody, don’t you?”

And Suga frowned, “So you do know who I am.”

The tension last night hadn’t just been his imagination then.

“I thought that much was obvious, m –“

“The name’s dead to me, as far as I’m concerned.” Suga tapped his gloveless hands on the bench, stopping after he noticed Sakusa grimacing, “And I’d appreciate it if you kept what you know of my past secret.”

“Oh?”

“Only Kenma –“

“Wait, Kenma as in the hacker, Department of Justice’s son, Lord Kuroo’s partner. That Kenma?” A vein ticked above Sakusa’s right eyebrow, faintly pulsing on his pale forehead. Had he not been wearing a mask, Suga would’ve bet money that his mouth would’ve been catching flies. Kenma wasn’t a well-known public figure, but among the educated, who couldn’t avoid the Kuroo name if they tried, Kenma’s was known by proxy.

“Well, not technically his partner, but the very same. Only he knows.” Suga put his hands up and gestured for the gloves. He wanted to tap, well he wanted to chew his nails in nervousness, but that particular habit had been beaten out of him, and he didn’t want to trigger the other, “And…”

“Who else? Are there more of you?” Sakusa was trying to supress his curiosity, but failing miserably. All he could be arsed to maintain was his dignity, back ramrod straight, jerkily sliding the box of black gloves and the box of clear gloves over to Suga. He digressed, “Clear is cooking, black is general. Blue is cleaning. I change mine with every new task I do, or otherwise just every four hours.”

Suga nodded and pulled out a pair of black plastic gloves. He didn’t think his stomach could take any food at this point.

“Thanks, and yes. Two more,” On second thought maybe his stomach couldn’t take anything at this point, and he stilled for a moment, holding back the nausea from realising itself in his oesophagus, mouth and surroundings. His control of his grip slipped somewhat and overly sweet honeysuckle trickled languidly out, fearful, anxious. Sakusa inhaled sharply and wrenched open a drawer, then a lid from a bottle that he held to his own nose and then to Suga’s. His hands were steady, even if the rest of his body was not.

Eucalyptus flooded Suga’s senses, and he felt himself calm immediately. It was sharp, intense and strung out the knotted spirals in his mind to thoughts neatly spooled. His stomach protested, but he ignored it.

“Hinata and Oikawa, my Ravens.” Bile rose. He swallowed it back down.

“Why am I surprised. I shouldn’t be.” Sakusa remarked dryly, “You really like diversity across socioeconomic groups, don’t you? Planning a revolution?”

“Gods no. The military is too strong, even with the war in the North.”

“Did you run because you were planning a revolution?” The tension was palpable, pooling on Suga’s heavy tongue as he struggled to find words in response to Sakusa. The latter didn’t lift his gaze.

“No.” He finally settled on, answer oddly short, “I… no, though maybe we should have.”

The room fell quiet. Sakusa seemed to be considering his next words, hands folding over each other and Suga’s eyes narrowed at the near-compulsive scratching. The omega’s stared at each other. Suga’s now encased, gloved fingers tapped the counter. Sakusa’s fingers picked at each other languidly through the plastic. The latter leaned forward, finally opening his mouth, then closed it, leaning back.

He lifted the bottle of eucalyptus oil from the counter and wafted it in front of his mask, breathing deeply. Sakusa could feel the tension leaving his body, and somehow the only smell he could ever tolerate was creating space in his head and carving a clear path from thoughts to tongue.

A deep breath.

“Does…” Pause. No, that wasn’t quite right. Sakusa adjusted his mask absentmindedly, then resuming raking his nails over the back of his hands. Echoes of pain once, rather than current pain tingled outwards, “Did it have something to do with your secondary gender?”

Suga dropped eye contact first, laughing a laugh that shouldn’t have been, not with how mirthless it was, “Yeah, something like that.”

And Sakusa understood.

It clicked into place.

“Ah, that’s how it always is, isn’t it?” Sakusa set his jaw, feeling his teeth clench together nearly painfully. Suga just looked exhausted, somewhat resigned for having let another person into his secret, “I can understand why Kenma might hate you right now, he stayed behind and stuck it through and thought you could as well. Don’t lie, I could see the tension when you tried to talk him into nesting last night.”

“He can’t see my point of view, and I respect his opinion. Sometimes I feel –“ Suga glanced back at the hallway he had stumbled from, hoping that no one was standing in the empty air listening in to him voicing his true feelings. He was a leader for the pack, he could be vulnerable yes, but he had to be strong when they were weak, because that’s what leaders do, “Sometimes I feel like a fucking coward for running. But I don’t regret it. I think I’ve done more good by our people where I am now, then where I was before.”

A beat.

“Besides, no alpha would dare touch me now.”

Sakusa laughed at that, with Suga – not at him. For a good minute of two they were laughing, Suga near hysteric, Sakusa laughing at the absurdity of the statement – because fuck, weren’t they both so broken and abused and done over by society that no one would even want them now? But after that, they quietened as Sakusa cleared his throat to shake the laugh from his chest and replace it with words.

“Just be careful though m – Suga.”

The scent of bleach sharpened in Suga’s nostrils. Sakusa’s face trapped in a grimace.

“Alphas will latch their claws into an omega and use them how they see fit. No matter the purpose. No matter where you are. If an alpha wants you, they’ll find you, and they won’t let go.”

•••

Time felt fluid, sitting there with the panting omega in his arms, sweat coating him – both his and the others, feeling the slick that had completely soaked through the others pants now damp against his own thighs as Oikawa clung to him. His eyes hadn’t lost their cloudy, glossy quality, and his feverish heat hadn’t diminished in the slightest, and even the skin-to-skin contact Iwaizumi could give him, the reassurance of another person in the room no longer seemed to ease his pain.

“Please, smell… touch… fuckkkkk… Alpha.” He was whining. He was crying. He was hurting Iwaizumi’s heart, no matter how many times he tried to still the pain with the thoughts it was only natural. Nature fucking hurt, and it was hurting Oikawa greatly. Tears slipped from his eyes and they wet the patch of Iwaizumi’s shirt that had already been soaked in the hormone heavy salty liquid – that is, directly above his pounding heart.

“Please.” He begged.

Fists hit Iwaizumi’s chest weakly. Unable to travel further south and relieve himself, Oikawa simply sobbed. Breaths were ripped from his chest in between shudders of arousal, heat, and the gut wrenching cries that left him.

“Iwa-chan. ”

“Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi felt like crying in his helplessness. But he didn’t, instead resorting to carding his fingers gently through Oikawa’s hair, his other hand rubbing Oikawa’s lower back – no doubt sore, his hips going through minute contractions in order to prepare his body for eventual birth. Sometimes he’d switch, running his hand up and down Oikawa’s spine, hand on hot skin, gently tracing the path of his spine and his other rubbing the omega’s scalp, “Look at you, you’re so strong. I can’t believe you’ve made it through so many heats, I don’t think half the alphas I know could put up with this pain. I wish I could help you more, believe me I really do. But I don’t think you want me to –“

“Al – Iwa-chan, no … please.. baby. Hurt so bad, stop … pain. ”

“Baby? That’s a new one. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the ‘sweetheart’ from last night Shittykawa. And I’m not talking about your instincts here, I’m talking about the you who is an absolute badass. This is going to be pretty embarrassing for you when you break your heat, but I don’t want to cause you any more distress. Just hold on, okay?” He hummed softly, trying to purr, trying to calm his heart so that it would help calm Oikawa’s, but it was hard when he was fighting against the growing instinct to take the omega. The omega that looked up at him with teary eyes, red-faced, pouting – who looked adorable, “We’re going to get you through this one. Just like all the other ones you’ve gone through. No matter how many times I have to tell you, you’re strong and beautiful, and you have full control over your body, don’t let any alpha tell you otherwise. Only you control your future. Okay, you little shit? Only you.”

And just as a purr was about to rumble forth from Oikawa’s lips, just as he was about to reply, moan back something semi-coherent –

– the lights went out.

Warm comforting white fell from grace to the warning flashes of orange – something had happened. And Oikawa started to scream. Hands for the first time flying from their hold on Iwaizumi’s shirt to clutch at his nose, claw at his own face. Falling to an insane hysteria that rose from the depths of his soul.

Screaming. Flashing.

The door banged open.

Iwaizumi’s grip tightened on the omega and growl ripped itself from his throat while he simultaneously ripped the mask from his face. Immediately Oikawa’s heat smell washed over him, threatening to put him under, and it was all he could do to keep his head in the waves of woodsmoke and rain – the fear mixed with the smell of heat having it smell like a typhoon, rough and raging full of life but full of putrid stinking plant matter uprooted far too soon and drowning in the rain. Iwaizumi was drowning.

But his inner alpha didn’t care about that. His inner alpha pulled Oikawa tighter than before, arms pulling the omega’s hands from inflicting harm upon himself, tugging him closer and closer – until Oikawa was drowning in the heavy musk that poured from the red and raised scent glands – the gauze drifting to the floor. Growled at the approaching silhouette, the mocking laugh. Scented the terrified, screaming omega. Eyes hurting – black silhouetted by orange, black, silhouetted by orange and then black again. For a moment he squeezed them shut and –

Bang.

His ears started to ring.

His arm stung.

Cool liquid trickled down his forearm.

He could see the glinting silver of a dart buried into his flesh. Purple bruising. Woozy lights – everything swung. The orange faded from his vision, and the heat from the omega became more and more distant. All he could hear was screaming. And he wasn’t sure if it was Oikawa or himself.

Blackness swept him up and cradled him, and the pitch he swam in set – trapped in tar, eyes struggling to remain open as the silhouette – was it really a silhouette? – reached forward. Screaming. Ringing. Flashing. Darkness.

And then, nothing. Just a small and quiet whimper.

A mocking laugh in response, “Slut. Did you really think you could ignore me for all these years? I’m going to have to punish you, aren’t I?”

He felt his shirt tug forward and then slack. Heard the cries, felt the wet tears, “No.. no… alpha please no… not –“ 

“Oh?”

A squeal of pain. Another laugh. His head spun, his arm throbbed, yet he clung to the precipice of consciousness. 

“Don’t you want to see me push another pup into my wife?”

And then everything vanished. And finally, Iwaizumi’s ears closed over, not even registering Oikawa’s blood curdling scream as the omega was dragged from the room, loud enough to echo through the entire building.

 “IWA-CHAN! SAVE US!”

Chapter Text

The air was stale in the city. The midday sun blared down invasively, clouds nowhere to be seen. Bright blue, but tinged in a pale grey smog that curled around the corners of the skyline, slunk through the gaps between buildings. It was something slimy. Perhaps it was the briny smell of fish and salt that assaulted his lungs after so many years of living deep in the forests, snuggled between the peaks of the mountains that isolated Inarizaki from Fukurodani and the small crevice of a mountain pass that enabled contact on occasion. Perhaps it was just the newness of it all, filling less like a shiny new experience and more an overwhelming unfamiliarity.

He was used to the thin air, unable to carry much to him in the way of scent, only chills and a frost nipped nose. He wasn’t used to the thick and heavy mould of the city, the industrialisation clogging the air nearly as much as the swathes of people unable to fully control their potent, rather putrid scents. Nor the looks that the people gave him, tall suited alphas – with barely any meat on their bones – glaring up at his taller, much bulkier frame, only to catch his wandering golden gaze and quickly look away.

But they didn’t matter.

Not today.

Not any day… really.

The alpha continued his hunt along the too small sidewalks, humming jovially to himself. His eyes had remained in the darkened near-copper like golden state, and his nostrils had been flared ever since he had started the hunt. Whereas normally every scent should’ve been enhanced to him, they all dulled, and he instead focused in on the whiffs of woodsmoke he caught every now and then, and the barest hints of rain he knew did not come from the sky.

Alphas were meant to by design be able to track down their prey. Whoever they so choose, alphas were in theory meant to be able to sniff out their prey’s scent trail, even if it had been years since they’d been in that place. In theory. In the past. Now all that remained was the alpha’s ability to sniff out their mates, only a rare few able to ‘track’ as well as ‘hunt’ –  both terms ill fitted for their reasons (in reality it should be the other way round, but everyone, including the few beta scientists who had studied these actions, knew that alphas were prideful by nature and decided that the reduction in instinctual ability should be treated as a growth instead).

It slowly grew stronger, the scent forming more of a path than random whiffs of pleasure that shot through the alphas system at the smell. And despite the thick, muggy, midday itch in his lungs, fish filling his lungs as his lunch did his stomach, he continued to hunt.

Only to end up in front of a police station.

Odd.

Of the few lucid moments, he’d had with his mate, he hadn’t seemed like much of a criminal.

But who was to say? A lot had happened in the fourteen years since he’d seen his mate, who would be less of a pup (as they both were at the time) and more of a man. The alpha wondered what he would look like, if his fluffy brown hair was still as soft as it was when it tangled around his fingers, if his eyes still held the lingering horror they did when the omega fled with his torn collar in hand, if his body was still lithe and malnourished. He hoped not. He hoped the years had been kind.

So, he walked inside.

“G-good morning, Sir,” The receptionist looked flustered, hair slightly messy, eyes wide, “Is there anything we can do for you this morning? The complaints box is over there –“ She pointed, he didn’t look, –“but, uh.. if you wish to speak to anyone directly, you’ll have to wait.”

“Oh no worries,” He laughed and it echoed. It sounded weird in the closed-in space, bouncing back to him off a concrete wall rather than a distant mountain peak, “I got a call from my mate and it tracked from here. Can I see him?”

“Um..” Now the receptionist looked less flustered and more apprehensive, and the alpha noticed the way her hand hovered over the phone on her desk, “Can I get a name for your mate and yourself please Sir?”

“They call me Koutarou Bokuto, and my mate Tooru Oikawa.” His words were slightly stilted, the k’s and t’s harsher and louder than intended, vowels elongated where they shouldn’t be.

And the receptionist paled and her hands trembled when she picked up the phone. Bokuto didn’t bother listening in to the conversation, silently observing the world around him, until he heard the tell-tale click of the phone being set back in place and the hitching of the receptionist’s breath.

“Do I have to wait?” He grinned at her.

“N-no, Bokuto Sir, Captain Sawamura will see you now. Second floor. Stairs are this way.”

He smiled, giving her a brilliant grin, and followed her up the stairs, only for her to quickly point out the door he needed to turn through and scurry back down to her position. Only then did he notice the slight bruising on her arm, and the unnatural way she held herself, back too tense, ready to prepare against an attack. He pursed his lips, but thought nothing more of it.

Instead, he focused on the signals his nose was giving him. The scent he’d clocked in on the minute he arrived in The Port, heavy heady scent of woodsmoke that smelt like the forest up in flames, and a crashing downpour upon the mountain slopes, but one doused with the fear of villages and animals alike, a springtime storm gone wrong. He could smell the naturally cloying scent of heat, intensifying his mate’s aroma, smelling like some sweet woody smoke rising from a small campfire, intimate and inviting. Bokuto would’ve lost his head, and control if he hadn’t also picked up the smell of alphan cops, and the sound of a door opening adjacent to where he stood.

“Are you Bokuto?”

The man in front of him was short, omegan and smelt strongly of an alpha. Chestnut? Cherry? It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. Nor was the glint in the omega’s eye daring him to try and do something, a challenge he might have taken him up on had it not been for their surroundings.

“Yeah.” He said, the officer ushering into the room before the word had even properly left his mouth. It was an office of sorts, desks set up in communal quartets, though given some semblance of privacy by short partitions jutting up. Windows let in the midday light, though someone had had the forethought to close the blinds and turn on a much more regulated artificiality. Another door, from what he could see led to a sort of break room, the strong scent of coffee conflicting with its sameness radiating off another alpha in the room. Which now that he looked around was packed with people.

Officers with orange-accented black uniforms sat at their desks, a few looking more worse for wear . The blond one especially, rubbing his eyes every few seconds as he frowned at his computer screen. Three of them – in the orange uniforms – stared at him, and the other officers, who were wearing red-accented black uniforms (of which there were also fewer), were busying themselves with handing out food and further staring.

Everyone was staring as Yaku came back with an alpha that looked too big to actually fit inside, with glaring golden eyes and a smile on his face that was far from what they expected. Daichi eyed the man, taking in his large frame and obvious muscles as well as the garb he wore, all soft greys and whites, with a fur lined woollen coat to top it off. How far had he travelled? No seaside city goer would dare wear such things. The weather was far too mild, far too temperamental.

“So…” The alpha smiled brighter, “Is he here? Can I see my mate?”

“You just missed him.” The blond-haired alpha said dryly, looking up from his screen, and fixing him with a glare. Odd. Had Bokuto done something wrong? Had his mate done something wrong? Bokuto couldn’t recall doing anything illegal in the past few years, unless hunting had suddenly become an illicit activity.

“What the fuck do you want with him.” Another stepped forward menacingly.

“Shut up Iwaizumi.” One of the three in orange-accented black that were standing straightened, putting a hand on the arm of the one who had moved, and Bokuto knew instinctively that he was the boss of these alphas. It wasn’t so much as a potent scent, or a narrowing of the eyes, or even the size of the man – but rather the way he held himself, and the burning in his eyes that spoke of an undisturbed waters’ surface concealing a never-ending well of strength to be drawn from. Bokuto could already sense the respect the other alphas held for this man, and in turn felt respect grow within him, “Sorry about the Vice-Captain, he’s a bit on edge. I’m Captain Sawamura. Just to reiterate, you’re one of Tooru Oikawa’s mates?”

“Uh… the only one. Wait… what?” He tilted his head, confused, and one of the other alphan officers shivered. Bokuto’s body had stayed completely still, and his head had tilted nearly too far, eyes maintaining that gleaming gaze and Kageyama could hear nothing but danger screaming in his head. Bokuto had the look of a fighter, of someone hardened by the environment, in a different way than he himself had, one much more in touch with their alphan instincts. Yaku eyed him carefully, one hand rubbing the inside of his right wrist. Iwaizumi growled. Bokuto shifted his attention from the growling officer (Iwaizumi?) to the Captain again, “Are you saying he took more than one mate?”

“Yes, he has three.” Captain Sawamura didn’t smile, and as Bokuto looked around he could see cold stares and hard glares in every direction. Bar two, a tall silver haired man and another black-haired alpha with messy, scruffy hair looking at him oddly as if he were a puzzle for them to figure out. The man the captain called Iwaizumi glowered, “So when you mated him, he was unmarked?”

“Yeah…” What was going on? Why did his alphan instincts tell him to release his scent and dominate the room? Why did they tell him that something was afoot, that his mate wasn’t here and they were at fault? “Where is he? When can I go see him? He’s in heat, I can smell it. Has been for two and a half days.” He sniffed the air, the scent of his mate incredibly strong to his sensitive nose, it’s nuances – even after fourteen years making themselves known and threading meaning to every change in its trail, “Has two and a half left. Does –“

There was no stopping Iwaizumi.

Before the majority of people could even blink, before Daichi could reprimand and Tsukkishima could sigh, the alpha had crossed the room in three long strides, and had grasped the other by the collar. Pushed him back into the door Yaku had closed. Right fist clenched tight around the fabric, glaring up.

He ignored the stabbing pains in his useless left arm – hung limp at his side from the residue of the drugs he’d been shot with. He ignored the shouts behind him, for him to stop and put the man down, that it was bloody well against the law to harm a civilian in this state. Ignored Kageyama’s soft grumble of approval before the blue-eyed officer could stop himself. He ignored the cold that had tingled in his body ever since the warmth of the omega’s heavy pressure against his chest had left, ignored the cool breeze against his neck so different from the wandering lips.

“And what the fuck are you going to do about it huh? What the fuck do you want with him?”  

Who the fuck do you think you are messing around with him? Claim him again? Add to the appalling amount of trauma he ’s experienced?

He ’s mine to protect.

  I will protect him.

Iwaizumi hoped his thoughts were made clear in his iron grip, mouth taken with the task of baring his now extended fangs, growls tearing the air around them both. His canines – his fangs – were impressive, long, razor sharp and white, glistening with saliva. Poised a few centimetres away from breaking Bokuto’s weathered skin, or at least the fur (faux or not, nobody could tell) that covered his neck.

The other alpha hadn’t reacted when Iwaizumi had lunged, nor when the words had been spat in his face, but then he nearly sunk his own neck into those fangs – his body nearly falling forwards as the smell he’d been tracking tripled in intensity. He could smell the heat. He could practically feel it. But what’s more, it was mixed with the slight edges of this alpha’s own scent – carrying musk with the rain, speaking of cedarwood in the smoke of his mate. They had been intimate, or at least – this alpha, this fucking alpha, had spent time with his mate while his mate was in heat.

Bokuto’s control on his inner alpha slipped at the revelation.

The shift was palpable.

Yaku hissed, the only omega in the office, putting his hand to his nose and darted into the break room. Unable to stop the visceral instinctual reaction. Lev followed him, not before throwing a puzzled look over his shoulder at the tall, muscled alpha that had joined them.

Every other alpha stiffened.

Bokuto straightened and his eyes descended from the near copper to a deep dark molten something bordering on the edge of a golden brown – but no one could dare look him in the eye long enough to place it. His scent barrelled outwards in a challenge of the other alpha, the distinct woody overwhelmingly rich scent of sandalwood clogging and mixing with the other alphan scents, clashing with the cedarwood of Iwaizumi’s own enraged territorial scent. It was as if all the alphas had been pulled from the office and been thrust into the deepest darkest forest the Inarizaki Kingdom could boast of. And the fangs on this alpha, as he bared his teeth, were nothing to laugh at. Large, near silver with the way the light glinted off the dripping saliva. Sharp. And Kuroo noticed with stunning clarity (he and the other Nekoma Officers had the side angle view) one of Bokuto’s fangs was chipped.

Which meant this alpha used his fangs. That their purpose went beyond territorial disputes and mating bites.

That he’d used them to tear through flesh, not just pierce it. Rip apart substances firmer than human flesh. Chip bone not just scrap it. Fight.

Iwaizumi however, also noting this – seeing as his face was by far the closest to the view, didn’t care, and didn’t move back. He didn’t give two flying shits what the other alpha did in his fucking down time, how much experience Bokuto had over him. He needed to know what this man’s angle was on the omega. He needed to protect Oikawa. And he needed to get –

“Both of you. Stand down.”

Daichi’s scent of coffee then flooded the room, threatening to overwhelm anyone who wasn’t actively leaking their own scent, threatening in every way. His scent was powerful, both as a pack leader and in the item it imitated – as imitating the drug of caffeine in and of itself had interesting effects on other people. In particular, an uncanny ability to draw people out of a spiralling instinctual state. And yet, Bokuto’s scent bit back, still overpowering in every way, still claiming the major flavour of the air. Sandalwood and caffeine, with an outraged musk  attempting to come between the two – Daichi realised that the alpha must also be a natural pack leader.

Iwaizumi shook Bokuto again, bringing the alpha’s attention back to him, “I said, what the –“

And then Bokuto’s eyes widened, and immediately the atmosphere shifted again, control wrestled down and his scent immediately changed, going from oppressive to an attempt at calming, retracting. This time it also had hints of his secondary, a mellow lemon myrtle that shocked Iwaizumi out of his stupor. And Tsukkishima. And Asahi.  

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. Honest mistake guys. Just a bit of a slip-up, didn’t mean to go under.” Bokuto’s eyes had returned to a lighter bright gold, one that everyone else could meet without feeling the need to immediately look away. One hand came up and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “I don’t want to hurt him, really. It’s the first time in years I’ve got a direct call from him, and I thought that because he was willingly keening and broadcasting his position I could track him – hey, hey that’s starting to hurt, could you let go of my shirt?”

Iwaizumi let go, took a step back, crossed his arms and glared at him impatiently. As much as his pride hated to do so he had to let the alpha talk. It would keep Daichi off his back later if he complied now.

Bokuto scratched his neck again, pulling the coat further around his body and glancing around the room, “I want to apologise to him.”

“Accidental bonding?” Kageyama asked, genuinely curious. Cases were not as uncommon as one supposed, especially in areas where education was scarce. Or, at least, shelters for omegas, were scarce. At the thought of omegas, his brain naturally drifted to the thought of Hinata, how he’d felt in his arms, how his body had shaken against his and his screams had echoed when the door was flung open. Kageyama’s shoulder ached from where he’d been hit by a dart, from where he’d been too weak to fight its effects and protect the omega from what he guessed to be the very alpha who had wed him eight years ago. He forced his thoughts back to reality.

“Yeah.” Sadness tinged the edges of his scent, shoulders drooping slightly, “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just got a bit –“ Iwaizumi frowned at the blush spreading across Bokuto’s cheeks, as the other shifted and looked even more uncomfortable than before, –“like just a bit carried away.”

Bokuto lifted his hands in defence as Iwaizumi stepped forward again, rage clouding his features, “I don’t want to hurt him okay? I want to apologise. Make things right by him. We were young and foolish and we both had no idea what was going on. I was an idiot who had never come into contact with an omega in heat before and I bonded with him. He didn’t bond me back, but I want to see where he’s at now and if I can do my duty as an alpha.”

“Fuck your duty as an alpha –“

“Let him speak Iwaizumi.” Daichi’s reprimanding tone was the only voice that could so easily rise over the angered man.

“I want to do my duty as an alpha, and walk through the legal and medical steps to break the bond.” Bokuto finished, gaze dropping from Iwaizumi to the people situated around him. They all stared back at him with similar shocked faces, until the silence was broken by the bed-headed alpha barking a laugh.

“Is that even medically possible?”

Oh. Shit. Is Inarizaki this technologically advanced and yet still this stagnant? Bokuto froze, he’d been isolated for too long. Asahi peered at him curiously, the large alpha that contested with his own size piquing his interest at the mention of the possibility of breaking bonds. It wasn’t unheard of perse – but that happened in death, or in the extreme one in one hundred million sort of cases with a complete incompatibility of blood. It hadn’t been researched enough. It hadn’t been cared about enough

“Uh well that’s how they do it in Fukur – I mean, Johzenji.” He lied. He’d never been to the Southern Continent of Johzenji, a land beyond the Aoba Islands, one that boasted bush larger and wilder than Aoba’s tropical rainforests, harsher scents, drier innards of desert and stone sculptures that rose hundreds of metres above the ground. Canyons, crevices, an unpredictable landscape with the best and worst experiences a hair width apart – Bokuto had only heard of it, in rumours, in passing, “That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”

Asahi narrowed his eyes. They didn’t have extensive contact on Johzenji, let alone extensive medical data.

Kageyama narrowed his eyes as well, noticing the slip in name and couldn’t help but ponder the possible benefits Bokuto would gain from saying Johzenji and not Fukurodani. Feud? Home country? Fugitive? Criminal? But thinking of criminals, made him think of Hinata, and his attention snapped back to the present.

Kuroo had also followed a similar train of thought – at least in the beginning, and possibly in the end, it was hard to tell from the thoughtful expression painted delicately across his features, and unlike Kageyama, decided to act on it. Calculatedly.

“So, pray tell, what is it exactly that you do?”

Bokuto looked somewhat thrown off by the question, but he didn’t hesitate long enough to be deemed necessarily suspicious – toeing the line almost too perfectly though Tsukki tiredly, ears listening in to the conversation as his itchy eyes glared at the screen in front of him. Daichi sipped from his coffee cup as he waited for the response. Iwaizumi stood, stiff and unyielding, having not moved one step closer nor one step back – ready to pounce, but also to fly. It was painfully telling to how he felt about the omega, fear and trepidation lacing his figure, nearly as obvious as the dark hickeys that lined his neck and jawline. Kageyama’s fingers curled around the edges of the desk as he tried to listen in to Bokuto – because every new thing he learnt could lead him closer to Hinata and it was in his best interests to be patient, it was in his best interests to be fully prepared to tear apart the fucking alpha that had caused the omega such pain, reduced his rival to that state.

Each caught up in their own tensions, they barely noticed the tension in Bokuto.

“I uh… well, it’s sorta embarrassing, but I uh… I rear owls.”

“Come again?” Daichi was supposed to be trained for the unexpected, he was supposed to be unsurprised, but it took too much energy to maintain the perfectly composed cop façade. He took another sip of his coffee and met Kuroo’s smirk. The other man looked somewhat amused, even if his expression shuddered with anguish every other second.

“I run an owl sanctuary.”  Bokuto clarified, excitement blooming in his eyes, past the apprehension and hiding the latter effectively, “Raise them, train them, look after them. I teach them to search the forests for lost hikers and I provide them shelter from snowstorms and predators, even though they’re practically the apex predator of the skies. Beautiful creatures and insanely smart, dead silent fliers as well.”

“And that’s how you… make money?” Daichi had deadpanned, Kuroo had sounded curious and slightly mocking, and Lev just sounded excited. Everyone else watched, Tsukkishima sighed and began to file the crime scene photos.

“Yup, every now and then I’ll go to the villages at the bases of the mountain. The ones that border on Fukurodani? The, um.. the Kitsune ones.. ah what’s their names… YES of course, The Mountains Where the Kitsune Lays. And I’ll pick up Missing posters, ‘Losts’ –“

The entire Karasuno police department flinched. The tattoos…

“– or whatever, and I’ll just go into the forests and search until I find them.” Bokuto shrugged.

Daichi frowned. Iwaizumi did as well. So did the majority of the room.

The Mountains Where the Kitsune Lays – as they were formally known as, were not a typical holiday venture. There was a reason why there hadn’t been much contact with Fukurodani over the years, and the mountains that twisted their way around that side of the continent were the main reason. Tall, imposing peaks of white wasteland, filled with wild animals and dark depths, spiralling flurries of hell on earth. Like a supernatural being – the Kitsune – back to the world, protecting Inarizaki from all of what lay beyond, watching down on them all.

And from what Daichi knew of his time helping the Northern Villages – in the villages of the West that lay at the base of the mountains, all the locals steered clear of the incline, the steeples the scarred the sky. Though he did remember them talking fondly of a foreigner who would come from a place closer to the clouds and provide them all with meat and pellets for the winter. Of whom would help them barricade against bears and moose and wolves. It had been a good ten years since he’d been up that way – the description of the foreigner escaped him. But could it be…?

Iwaizumi was suspicious. The forests Bokuto was referring to were most likely The Devils’ Forest, the ones that hugged Kitsune Mountains (a faster and more informal way of saying The Mountain Where the Kitsune Lays), and the south-western most corners of the country nearly spilling over the cliffs that rose over one hundred metres high, before creeping out until spindly tendrils only just reached the Capital’s outer walls of suburbia. It wasn’t the forest themselves Iwaizumi was suspicious of perse; it was the acts he knew took place in them. It was the acts he’d seen take place over his time in the Capital Investigative team, the smuggling, the breeding, the erection of the centres and the circles, hidden under dense foliage and rumours of ghosts and spirits.

Kitsune Mountains were dangerous in the sheer boldness of height and weather, The Devils’ Forest dangerous in the shady dealings, and never ending, never changing landscape so easy to lose oneself in. And yet this man… by the looks of it… lived and traversed both.

How mother-fucking suspicious.

“You guys trying to think is so loud it’s giving me a headache.”

Tsukkishima’s bored, exhausted voice broke them from their thoughts. And before either of them could think to retaliate, the blond-haired alpha had already turned his barbed tongue (metaphorically of course) to the only man in the room who hadn’t gotten a chance to become acquainted with it.

“Bokuto, I have a preposition for you.”

Daichi shut his open mouth. Despite the fight yesterday (damn, it really seemed like so much longer ago), he still had the utmost faith in his subordinate and friend. He trusted the head on that man’s shoulders, knowing undoubtedly that in the moment his brain was processing things differently to Daichi – seeing more of the information as Daichi was busy seeing the people involved. They had different skills after all, different jobs, different brains.

“Prepo – … Like a deal?”

“Yeah,” Tsukkishima held the bridge of his nose for a second, closing his eyes then opened them – a steely expression settling over his face. Iwaizumi relaxed slightly as he caught sight of this in his peripheries, he could trust Kei to get shit done. This look he wore meant business, “Take a seat, any seat.”

Bokuto did, looking wary. Lev offered him a cup of coffee and Bokuto sent the alpha and the omega still standing in the doorway of the break room looking slightly disgruntled, a smile. The omega raised an eyebrow. Bokuto took a sip. It tasted like crap. He set it on the desk he sat beside.

“You came here for your mate, right?”

He nodded. Of course, who else?

“Tooru Oikawa isn’t here currently. Approximately four hours ago he was taken by his third mate, forcibly so. We were subdued by darts filled with a substance that caused paralysis and loss of consciousness as well as a surge in instinctual state. We believe the man that took him is a part of a drug dealing business and smuggling operation, and is currently on the move to harm –“

“Who.”

“Hm?”

“Who is he.” Bokuto’s fists clenched tight and Daichi was grateful he wasn’t about to be cleaning broken porcelain, coffee and blood of the linoleum floor – the cup safe on the desk, “If you want my help I’ll help. I can easily track down my mate, now that I’ve caught his trail. I’ll do whatever you want.”

They could see that, the eagerness. Kageyama was reminded of Hinata – the similar swirling lust for revenge, for blood, determination swimming in dark pupils of their eyes.

“I just want –“

“Don’t even ask.” Iwaizumi cut him off suddenly, and Bokuto nearly lost himself to his instincts again. But Iwaizumi beat him to it, eyes darkening to a near black, “I’m killing that man myself. And if it means I have to kill you first I’ll do that to. Law be fucking damned.”

Bold statement to say in a police station.

Kuroo stood immediately, shoving food off his lap and spilling it over into Inuoka’s (the man had been oddly quiet since arriving, though he’d made himself indispensable in the clean-up), “If we’re talking about fucking blood, it’s going to be my hands that spill it. I’ll kill Daishou for even landing a fucking hand on my brother.”

“Tooru’s your brother?”

“What?” The tension faded out slightly at Kuroo’s incredulity, but thickened as he said, “No, Shoyou Hinata. He was also kidnapped by that bastard.”

“Well then we’ll kill him three times.” Bokuto just smiled darkly and Kuroo shook his head amused. Iwaizumi’s lips quirked up at the thought, even as he felt Daichi glare at the back of his head.

“You’re forgetting that Shoyou will probably have the man gutted by the time we even get there.” Kageyama butted in, just as Kuroo slapped Bokuto’s back in approval. In the background Yaku noted how the new tall buff alpha (Lev was a bit jealous of the attention he was giving Bokuto, Yaku could tell) had managed to pull his friend from his thought spiral, and also gave his own gesture of approval, a short barely noticeable nod. It didn’t take much for Kuroo to get weighed down by his thoughts, and for someone to easily ease that tension, perhaps in another lifetime they would’ve been friends. Or could be. Yaku wasn’t sure.

Iwaizumi frowned, and shook his head, eyes clearing of the haze of instincts and instead clouding over as they focused on something beyond the physical, “Oikawa’s there with him. You didn’t see the way they acted when I tried to separate them. It’s more likely they’re being used as hostages against each other. That’s often how the breeding circles did it with the purebreds. They couldn’t stop the instinctual omega packs from forming, so they’d use threats –“

“He’s right.” Kuroo said directing his gaze to Kageyama, “Kenma and Sho have always had this strangely close connection.”

The other inclined his head, but then spun at the snort that came from Tsukkishima’s desk. The blond alpha ran his hands through his hair and glared at the group – Kuroo, Bokuto, Iwaizumi and Kageyama all with eyes darkening with instincts, all fired up and – idiots, fucking stupid ass idiots who didn’t realise time was of the essence.

“Captain,” Having got the attention of the group, though minimally, he turned to Daichi, who had wiped the whiteboard on wheels free of previous tasks and had uncapped the marker Asahi had handed him, now staring thoughtfully at the board.

“Lieutenant,” Daichi used Tsukkishima’s proper title, and the alpha stiffened at the tone of the head alpha, “I am aware. Thank you.”

Yaku and Lev exited the breakroom carefully, vying for a position where they could see the board. If anyone noticed the way Yaku’s hand was gripping Lev’s in the presence of the overbearing alphan scents, no one mentioned it, the glare on both their faces speaking more than a thousand words could.

Asahi sat back down at his desk beside Tsukkishima, twirling his pen in his hand, racking his brain for information on what could happen in these types of situations. Fingers typing softly on the keyboard, he forwent Daichi’s quiet commanding presence to anxiously key his thoughts, bringing up forums of omegan experts he was involved in (they were by and large illegal – socially speaking, but necessary to Asahi’s job as an omegan medical specialist first and foremost). 

Tsukkishima watched the group out of the corner of his eye, the whole of them lovesick fucking idiots, one way or another. It was clear to him, and probably the rest of his colleagues, that Iwaizumi was in deep. The hickeys that were raging on his neck, deep reds and shallow purples, kissed into his hairline, were more severe than any love bites Tsukkishima had ever seen, and the way Iwaizumi had reacted when the sedative had worn off. It could’ve been a substance that rises the insistence of a primal state, or it could’ve been Iwaizumi unaffected by anything except panic.

And what a fucking panic it had been.

The growls and snarls that had burst forth from Iwaizumi’s mouth, the fangs that extended immediately, as he lost control fully. It had taken Daichi, Kuroo and Asahi to hold him back. And there would’ve been more people to dogpile his thrashing body, if it hadn’t been for Tsukkishima, Yaku, Kyoutani, and Inuoka having to restrain a struggling Kageyama. Objectively, in Tsukkishima’s definitely unbiased opinion, a much harder feat. The latter had military training after all, and it seemed something had snapped after Hinata’s scent had been released in such unrestraint that even Tsukkishima awoke from his dead sleep a few hallways down.

Distantly, trying to removed himself from the emotion that pounded at his heart, he wondered if he would ever react that way. If he would ever find an omega that he could react that way over. There had never been anyone there, really. It wasn’t as if he had a younger sibling that he would fall apart for. Only a shitty older brother who had left the minute he realised the country just wasn’t cutting it for him, the beta wanting to travel the world. Tsukkishima wondered where he was now, and in the wondering his mind wandered, and he thought of Yamaguchi.

He had to find him.

They had to find him. He wanted to know how exactly the omega had learnt to shoot so well. And he wanted to see him shoot. That quiet but somehow screaming change in demeanour didn’t come from convention. The movements, the clutching of his gun – because it was fucking obvious – that brought him calm, how could something so dangerous bring the omega a sense of peace?

Tsukkishima shook himself from his thoughts. Not here, not now. Emotions came later, action came now. Knowledge is power, power is knowledge, to know was to listen and to listen was to hear. He had to stay present.

“Ok, I know I may not be the boss of all of you, but our – Karasuno’s case, your case and the kidnapping are all related. I regret not informing you all earlier, but simply speaking, we’re dealing with a fucking shitshow.” Daichi growled out, tapping the still empty white board. Kuroo, having seen the shocking recording where he guessed the majority of Karasuno’s information came from, shrugged, taking a seat next to Bokuto mouthing ‘congrats you’re an honorary member’ as if he wasn’t keyed up and ready to run the minute he heard news of Hinata’s location. Kageyama and Iwaizumi had also both stiffly taken a seat, along with the rest of the Nekoma officers, some of whom remained seated on the floor. Fukunaga stood at the back, watching. And Daichi began to write, “First things first, the kidnapping. Iwaizumi, Kageyama, Kuroo and myself will help Bokuto track down his Oikawa’s scent. We don’t where they are, or how far they will be taken, so we’ll take some of the emergency supplies with us. Effective as soon as this conversation is over.”

He wrote ‘Rescue’ and their names underneath.

“Next, for those remaining here, Yaku and Tsukkishima, I think both Kuroo and I agree that you’ll be left in charge of all operations while we’re out on the field. As for jobs, I don’t care how or who gets them done but they need to get done.” He levelled the room with a hard glare, and wrote ‘1.’ on the white board, beginning to scrawl down instructions, dictating them as he went. The room held its collective breath.

“1. Find out who the alphas are that were shot dead last night, kept as hostages. Asahi has photos. 2. Find out who Hiroshi is and his connection to the Duke. Currently we’re under the impression that he runs rut-houses in the downtown Central districts. 3. Link the time of the Eagles imports and exports to the time of known trafficking, see if you can find anything on their CEO – how deep the roots run. 4. Investigate any claims made against Lord Nohebi –“

“That fucking bastard noble.” Kuroo gritted out through clenched teeth, clenched jaw and clenched fists.

“– and see if we have any basis to properly incarcerate him, or execute him. 5. Find any either government omegas or omegan nobility that have gone missing over the past eight years. If we find out Crow’s identity, we might be able to clear up the whole thing.”

Daichi glanced around the room, taking in the determined stares and set expressions, none of them defiant, but all of them ready to go.

“And finally, 6, if one of you could contact the military – I know you didn’t speak to your sister Kageyama – and ask them to up their security. Our Officers know this, yours don’t Kuroo, so I’ll say this once…”

He took a deep breath.

“… we have information that the omegan Prince, on his annual trip next month, is going to be targeted by traffickers and attacked with scent weapons. We have a month to uncover the plot and stop these extremists. The Crown Prince needs to be informed, and we need to stay on top of the game. Even if it…”

Iwaizumi tensed, and he fought a smirk that bit at his lips. He knew exactly where this was going. Thank fuck Daichi knew how to prioritise.

“Even if it means that we have to overlook the Corvid Gang and work with them again to stop a kidnapping of the Prince. Any objections?” He bit out, ready for the onslaught of yells calling him out on his bullshit. Daichi was so fucking compromised, but so was – he was quickly finding out – the whole fucking system, and Crow needed their help, the omegas needed their help, and if they didn’t manage to stop this upcoming travesty, then it would be their heads on stakes, not the other way around. The Crown Prince, after the death of his father a few years ago had not allowed anyone to take him lightly, his judgement fair but when called for punishment ruthless. No noble or government official, indiscriminate of age or status ever wanted to get on his bad side.

And no one thought differently to Daichi’s plan, as they all remained still and quiet, nodding in agreement.

“Well, I was ready to kill anyone who laid hands on my mate, so I guess that makes it easier for all of us then.” Bokuto smiled bright and wide and dangerous.

“You can take Shoyou to jail once you pry him out of my cold dead hands, Kozume too.” Kuroo growled.

The two alphas shared a look of bright-eyed determination.

“Kuroo you ass, you’re meant to be on this side of the fucking law.” Yaku snapped, but he also rolled his eyes in amusement, glad to see you out of your pity party, moron.

“Well, in that case, I’m glad no one has any objections. The last task, 7, is to track down the remaining members of the Corvid gang, some of which we have files on.” Daichi glanced at his watch, “Dismissed.”

And everyone split.

Immediately, the five alphas that were in the rescue team bolted towards the door, Kuroo motioning Bokuto to follow the three in front – those who knew the way. Once in the hall, they followed a jogging Iwaizumi to a room comfortably filled with clothes and packs and equipment. Raid stuff, Bokuto mused, proper gear, proper clean shining guns that were black and small and looked positively lethal, different from the muskets he was used to. Someone shook their head about him when he reached, instead –  as the policemen stripped down to their boxers, instincts fading any potential embarrassment, Daichi threw him an olive drab shirt, a bulletproof vest and a pair of black trousers that looked to have an astounding number of pockets.

Bokuto swallowed and laughed, “Really, you think I can’t handle a gun?”

“You’re a civilian, it’s against the law– ” Daichi’s voice was muffled as he wrestled a skin tight long sleeve shirt over his head, “– actually forget it, you can probably handle it, but erring on the side of caution, and all the fucking paperwork I’d have to do justifying my giving you a gun just doesn’t cut it.”

From beside him Iwaizumi slipped a switchblade into one of his many pants pockets, “Take a knife instead. We can say you had it on your person already.”

“Iwaizumi.” Daichi chided, as Bokuto slipped off his coat and began to lift his shirt from his head.

“Sawamura.” Iwaizumi bit back, scowling, “Don’t get all hypocritical on me. This is just about you getting to finish your case and seeing your crush again.”

Kuroo attempted not to laugh, and so did Kageyama. They both knew better to encroach right now, time really being of the essence and them being too knee deep in finding which weapons they could easily hide on their person. Bokuto was confused, but that didn’t matter to him, as he stripped himself of the singlet he wore under his shirt, revealing to the four other men a sight they wished they could unsee.

Scars travelled up and down his body, large and broken, distorting skin, slightly raised but all perfectly treated. Some snaked around from his stomach to his back, where there more. Claw marks, bite marks, pock marks larger than anything a disease could leave – impaled at one point, without a doubt. Tan skin punctured by pale scar tissue. Lined. Ridged. Criss-crossing, never alone. And, his muscles, with no material to scrunch around them, and help hide their definition, stood out under the harsh light. Toned. Neither wiry, nor simply defined, Bokuto probably didn’t have an ounce of body fat on him.

Before the other alphas could say something to try and hide their obvious insecurities – being bested by someone physically, for an alpha wasn’t the most pleasant experience – Bokuto wrenched the olive drab shirt over his head, the vest following with slightly more struggle.

Kageyama sighed, head spinning. Those marks weren’t from fucking owls. Nor humans. What sort of beasts had he been fighting? He handed the alpha a knife and watched him handle it cautiously, give it a few swipes and then shrug, seemingly satisfied. And then he took his own, and a handgun and a taser, just in case.

And he hoped – as they left the station, he hoped. As Daichi’s police truck rumbled to life and pulled out onto the road, his hand clenched around the handle of his door, he hoped. As the car window of the passenger seat rolled down and Bokuto put his nose to the air, golden eyes descending to that dark molten copper again, Kageyama hoped.

He hoped Hinata was ok.

•••

It was soft. Dark. Warm. Always so, so warm.

He shifted his legs, something silken gliding between them, around them, over them. Oh? Oh, that felt nice. And it was soft. His head hurt, but his body was warm, comfortable. Melting into something that smelled –

Hinata’s eyes flew open. His fingers clenched around sheets. His body stiffened as a blinding ray of sunlight drifted lazily through fluttering curtains. Ten fingers, ten toes – all accounted for. There was no pressure around his neck; nothing cold, nothing warm that could suggest being chained – not his neck, nor his ankles, nor his wrists. Carefully, oh-so carefully, he lifted his head from the mountain of pillows he rested upon.

And all he could smell was that of pepper. Pepper cracked over a savoury dish in the evening, a smell he knew his body would always remember, always smell no matter how fucked up his hormones got. Pepper, and… apparently Kageyama’s scent… so different and yet so familiar to home… but that was gone and all he could smell was pepper and spices and horrible, horrible fear that was dredged from the bottom of his soul.

White lace.

His body was wrapped in white lace.

Like a bride.

Or a sacrifice patiently awaiting death. Someone who had died valiantly in battle and was waiting for the afterlife to take them to Valhalla, because that’s the afterlife his Father had believed in the most in his travels, and so Hinata knew, now that he wasn’t dead, because his Father would be here right now.

Bile rose in his throat, as the room grew clearer in his vision, eyes cleared of the afterimage the sun had left him –  ironic that. Everything was white and pristine, except for the pile of rocks that sat on the bedside table, black obsidian, sharp and deadly, and the vile green of the snake that slithered in its large tank in the far side of the room, wall to wall, ceiling to floor, thick glass and warm lights.

He shivered.

The eyes flickered to him, and the snake’s body uncurled, tongue flicking in and out. Menacing.

White lace.

Like a sacrifice.

Sharp fangs.

Hinata had spent enough time with his ex-husband to know that the snake was an anaconda, imported from the slightly hotter climate of Shiratorizawa, a constrictor. But even that had his heart stuttering in his chest, already feeling the cool, slim muscle squeezing around his neck, a living noose growing tighter, even if he didn’t fight. He would’ve died if he’d stayed a moment longer, and now he was back.

His scent soured the room that smelt so strongly of alpha. Ginger and pepper so acrid and rancid and strong that his stomach heaved pitifully, wanting to empty nothing but acid and a few stale donuts.

This wasn’t his old room.

This was Daishou’s room.

He wasn’t restrained. He was dressed in white lace. He was being watched by the heaviest and longest living snakes of the planet. A constrictor. His constrictor. Owned by Hinata’s constrictor. Living a life with wings permanently clipped, permanently constricted. This was a warning, and a threat, and a taunt. Hinata’s breath shortened, as his chest squeezed – constricted, just as the anaconda did in its tank, beady eyes watching him unfalteringly.

He wasn’t restrained. But he felt tied up in place.

When the door opened he nearly flew off the bed, hand going for the knife always hidden in his left boot, but finding himself quite shoeless, hand grabbing around nothing at all. So, he slipped from the too soft bed and stood bare feet on cold floor, white lace dress floating ethereally in morning light. Hands up at the ready. Clenched into weak fists. His head throbbed dangerously.

“Good morning Mrs Suguru,” It was a maid, silver chains wrapping around her wrists, outfit black, with a toxic electric green collar around her neck. She shifted uncomfortably and he shivered at the name, “Master wants to see you in the drawing room, if you’d please follow me.”

“What if I say no?” His voice cracked with disuse, wary, unforthcoming. How long had he been out? Surely it was later in the day than this when he had been – his head throbbed painfully and he forced himself to stop thinking. Stop trying to force his brain to remember when it was struggling to keep his fear, his anxiety supressed. His inner omega clawed to be let out.

“Master told me, that if you refuse, he’ll breed –“

Hinata immediately started walking towards the door, instinct driven, thought driven, feeling driven. He couldn’t let that happen. Not to Oikawa. It was his fault that Oikawa had gotten caught up in this. He hadn’t been able to satisfy his courtmate. He hadn’t been able to stop Daishou from bonding with him, he hadn’t been –

 Stop. What would Suga think of this?

At the thought of Suga, Hinata nearly broke down. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how panicked the other omega was. They hadn’t gone two days without seeing each other for eight fucking years. Yet.., even from afar, the thought of Suga – safe – somewhere, managed to calm him.

Closing the door behind them, closing it to the anaconda slithering over itself, watching them go, the maid directed him down the hallway. The ruffles of her petticoat, short and bouncing, despite the lack of spring to her step, drew Hinata’s eyes as they walked.  He didn’t want to stare at the dead surrounds – not really dead, his brain reasoned, justifying, but his heart hammered dead, trapped, diseased, dangerous, dead, dead, dead, you’re done for, you’re finished, you’re dead, dead, dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them, deciding to focus his sight on the one stray black thread that hung limply from the maid’s skirt, focus his mind on each breath that he forced in, out, in, out…  in, out, you’re dead, dead, in, out, in, dead, hold it, feel the need to breathe, out, dead, dead, you’re dead, your heart needs air that’s why it’s thumping, hold it, feel it, out, in, out. We need to be calm to save Oikawa, Sho. Your panicked ass won’t help for shit. C’mon. In, out. We’re going to be okay. Suga will find us. We’ll kick his ass, together. Like a team. Like we promised we would. Suga will come. He promised.

They reached the end of the hall, and he looked back, once – would he see it again? Would he ever come back from whatever hell – Stop it, Shoyou. You have to fight. Fight for Oikawa, for Suga, for every single fucking pup you’ve ever rescued.

It was a long white hall, long and stretching, green vines – tropical in a country that wasn’t tropical, so out of place, over windows, walls, tanks and doors leading to more rooms, more death traps. Seemingly normal rooms, with sneaking, slinking traps that sucked him up – mistakes that were waiting to be made, events waiting to incur punishment. Hinata shivered, and the maid cleared her throat, “Mrs Suguru.”

It took all his effort not to snap back. Hinata not Suguru. His name should only be changed once they were bonded, but of course the bastard would enforce the change… of course… at least here… at not his home.

“Mrs Suguru, Master insists.”

The door didn’t creak when it opened, but it was still as menacing. The room wasn’t dark, but it was still ominous. Minimalistic furniture, natural light and wide unbarred windows leading to the world outside – it should’ve been comforting, but instead it felt suffocating. He felt too small, dwarfed by the view of the white and black cliffs stretching for kilometres, so far from the city, from home, from everyone and everything. Hinata stepped forward into the room with hesitation in his breath, his chest, thrumming in each muscle that tensed as he moved. His eyes darted to survey the space inside.

He remembered this place.

White couch, sharp corners to bruise on. Glass table, fogged with the heat of his breath, wet with the sweat and slick of his body, any body his husband would use to entertain certain guests. Tanks, denoting more of his husband’s obsession, filled with slithering slimy creatures, green and yellow – toxic. Even now, he stared and they stared back, tongues flicking out, tasting the air that stunk of his own fear and mixed with the scent of an aroused alpha, and most likely other fearful omegan scents. And in between the tanks where the shelves stacked with books and other trinkets that remained untouched – until he was made to brace against them, hands tight or back bruised in straight lines, forced against the wall.

When the maid closed the door behind him he jumped, and tore his nails from his upper arm – where they had been scratching incessantly. Hinata’s heart pounded and his eyes widened in attempt to stop the tears from falling. He couldn’t be weak – but the memories…

… he wanted to tear his heart out to stop it.

Stop pounding. Stop fucking throbbing – just, he felt so ashamed.

“Nice of you to join us Shoyou.”

Us. You. Shoyou. The tone crawled up his spine and settled on his shoulders, pressing down, until his knees wanted to buckle and his head wanted to tilt – to expose his unmarked neck to the world. An alphan command.

“Come here.” Another one.

His head turned, and his feet moved – and he shouldn’t have done it, because the alpha hadn’t told him to, but he gasped at the sight of Daishou in front of him. In a corner of the room, he hadn’t had the chance to look at yet, seated on a light grey couch with neither cushion nor pilled sat his hus – ex, fucking, he’s your ex-husband Shoyou, keep it together. Remember what Suga taught you. Three steps ahead to make up for the biological step behind. Mind over matter. He was seated comfortably, one leg slung over the other, hand petting – as Hinata’s feet stumbled closer, his eyes tore from slanted narrowed eyes to the body that lay beside him.

Oikawa.

Safe.

Asleep, head rested on Daishou’s thigh, one hand pressed tight to his leg the other clutched around his stomach – probably in attempt to offset the emptiness. Though it had been a while for Hinata, he would never be able to forget the aching feelings that accompanied his heats, the pain undoubtedly magnified for his purebred brother.

There was no blood.

But he was naked. And there was slick coating and trailing and still fucking dripping down his thighs, pooling and wetting the couch.

“Beautiful isn’t he? I’d fuck him again right now, but alas –” Daishou mused, his eyes on Hinata, “– we have some things we need to discuss after your little stunt. Please take a seat.”

Hinata didn’t sit. The alpha’s stare grew hard, and he growled.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit down wife.”

Hinata sat, folding his hands in his lap from old, old muscle memory. Though his muscle memory was also screaming at him to tackle the alpha and throttle him to death, to force his thumbs into Daishou’s fucking slit-for-eyes and press down until they popped like the lid of a soda can, until he could feel the ridges of the brain beneath his fingers, a textured portrait of death. But he didn’t, because Oikawa was lying there asleep. He had to protect Oikawa. He wouldn’t let him get hurt.

So, he sat, in the adjacent one-man couch, knee nearly touching Daishou’s, heart hammering, dead, dead, dead in his chest.

“How long was I –“

“Three days.”

Hinata’s mouth went dry, and his voice cracked, “… And Oi –“

“His lasted only four hours. As soon as we got home –” Gods, Hinata hated that word, this house could never be his home, not anymore, –“I sedated you properly. Didn’t want to have you whining and crying as I fucked him through his heat. Had to reteach some things.” Daishou smirked down at Oikawa, petting his hair, one hand twirling a few stray sweaty locks, the other stroking further and further down his back with each passing word. Hinata heard a wet shluck as one finger disappeared, no questions as to where, not when Oikawa shifted and curled, spasming slightly before nuzzling deeper into the scent of pepper. Hinata reminded himself that it was just instinct and he’d have his friend back as soon as he broke his heat. There was a soft, nearly fond chuckle, “Begging for it too.”

Hinata couldn’t speak, just felt the tears well to his eyes, rage boiling, but guilt outstripping everything.

“So much better than you ever were. Even though he’s used, he’s still the perfect toy. I can’t imagine how painful it was for him to go through his heats without me.” Daishou gazed down, down at Hinata, knowing all his insecurities and weaknesses, they spent years together in their youth, when Hinata was still impressionable, didn’t know how to hold his tongue, trusted unconditionally, “Don’t you know the pain you caused him? He was thanking me for taking him away from you. He told me how much he hated you. How much he loved me. The slut’s been in so much pain, Shoyou, your heats don’t even compare. Tell me, why don’t you –  Do your heats compare?”

Of course, the verbal abuse would come before the physical, it had always been a whittling down of his willpower, of his self-esteem before a punch to his gut – whether physical or metaphorical, neither of them cared – it hurt him either way. Hinata couldn’t fight the alphan command. While normally omegas wouldn’t be so easily influenced by alphan commands from those they didn’t know – Hinata had been intimate with Daishou, in nearly every way outside of bonding, and his tongue loosened against his control.

“No. They don’t.” Staccato, he tried to hold it in, hold in his breath, stop the words from tumbling out into stale scented air, “I, uh… I don’t get heats anymore.”

Tongue fat in his mouth, anxiety eating up the moisture in his body, in his dry, dry mouth, as sweat poured from his body. The scent of sharp ginger filled the air.

“Oh?” Daishou smiled. Shoyou shivered again, “Stand up and come here.”

He did. He couldn’t fight. Every inch of power that he had gained in the last eight years had drained out of his body at the simple command. It turned inwards on his conscience, on his heart – berating his body and his instincts for his weakness. If only he wasn’t a fucking omega. Every single self-doubt he’d ever had crept back, once kept at bay by gentle reassurances in the dead of night, by Suga, by Oikawa… they all stumbled back as he stumbled to a halt in front of the alpha. His husband.

Daishou’s cold fingers – figured, with the number of cold-blooded creatures he housed – wrapped around the hem of his shirt and his breath hitched as hot breath hit exposed skin. Hinata wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself, to stop the prying eyes, the wandering fingers. Shuddered. Shivered. Cold, cold fingers caressing cicatrices, ugly motley skin tied in knots around his abdomen. A nail digging into one of the bigger, larger mounds that had taken months to heal, reopened by each breath he took. Hinata remembered opening that one over and over again, screaming in pain as some faceless alpha landed a hit, screaming in desperation as he urged himself to be faster, better than his opponents. Until the fear of pain, became instinct and instinct became carefully calculated thrill of destroying the people that destroyed him.

“So, this is what you did.” The nail bit down at his scarred skin, and Hinata bit down at his lip to stop the cry from escaping him. It had always felt weird, as if the scar tissue was constantly pulling at his navel, or somewhere in his back, somewhere deep, deep inside of him. His whole spine was set alight, tingling near ominously. Any harder and the pain would explode – Hinata knew his limits, very clearly. The alpha smirked as the omega tried not to squirm, but his face soon turned to a dark scowl, and though his slimy voice still held an air of politeness, Hinata’s nose froze at the cold anger that sat in the air. Nearly as bad as the cracked black pepper watering his eyes, “Just for some sweet temporary freedom.”

Oikawa shifted on Daishou’s lap, but didn’t wake.

Hinata did not look away from his sleeping brother. Though his body thrummed and hummed in all manner of feeling, emotion, instinct and pure muscle memory, his mind remained perfectly clear, with only two thoughts echoing in its expanse – Protect Oikawa and Stay Alive. He did not so much as deepen his breath to satisfy the alpha or himself when the fingers left his scarred abdomen.

“This is what you did to our pup huh?” And the fingers were back, and the eyes were on his face daring at him, commanding him to meet their gaze. Yet Hinata kept staring at Oikawa, “Look at me Shoyou. This –“ Daishou dug his fingers into the omegas sides, sharp nails creating divots in the scar tissue. White turning whiter then red as the alpha moved his hands along his torso, fingerprints, handprints, “Is what you did to our pup. How fucking selfish. How disgusting. How long will I have to punish you and the slut for you to realise how big of a fucking mistake you made?”

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.” He whispered, tears coming unwillingly and all-too-quickly. And Hinata felt them fall, saw them wet his hands as they reached up to stop the alpha from hurting him. His omegan brain tried to stop him, tell him that going against this alpha was wrong, but it wasn’t him, Daishou was wrong! It couldn’t’ve been him; it couldn’t have been him, “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Do what Shoyou?” Sharp and commanding but not a command. For the first time Hinata truly gazed into those eyes, and he saw no mercy. He wouldn’t give the omega a command – the sick bastard wanted Hinata to say it on his own terms. Daishou gave a mocking laugh, “What didn’t you mean to do, wife?”

He sobbed.

Oikawa didn’t wake from his heat-induced slumber.

Daishou didn’t have the patience to wait, pressing down into the omega’s stomach, the womb that he would’ve had to take the baby – the foetus – from, that was scarred and marred and destroyed beyond recognition. And he did until Hinata gave a strangled scream, hands tiredly – as he’d woken up from a drugged sleep and there was no way Daishou would be feeding him any energy-giving substance until he earned it – weakly scraping at his arms, trying to get him to stop.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO! It wasn’t my fault!” Hinata was crying, screaming. He tried to be quiet for Oikawa’s sake, but the pain that expanded and radiated from the alphas hands was different to muscle pain, different to headache pain and the pain he felt when his moods swung out of control too fast and too many times. This was not a burning, not an ache, nor a white-hot flash that a stabbing, or a shooting would give him, this was a thousand pins and needles sinking deeper and deeper into his skin, this was true agony, “I wanted to keep her, I want to. I swear. I loved her. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to!”

“You killed her Shoyou. You tried to run away and you killed her. Just like you killed your father, just like how you killed your mother.” And the pain was gone and the alpha’s hand were rubbing the spots he’d just handled, sliding over the skin smoothly. It was pleasant, and not painful – but Hinata remained scared, fucking shit scared, of the alpha that held him in the palm of his hand. Tears ran down his face. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t kill his father. His mother went missing. It wasn’t his fault.

“It’s not my fault. They didn’t –“ The sentence broke off and ended as he sobbed.

“Shhh, it’s ok Shoyou, I won’t let you kill anyone else. All this darkness in your heart, I’ll help you heal it. Everything will be alright. You won’t have to do anything, or go anywhere you don’t want to go. Not until I beat these last eight years out of you and turn you into that cute subservient omega you were when we got married.” Daishou took one hand off his chest – yes, they were rising higher not lower, but Hinata was all too aware of this man’s tactics and he held his breath in quiet apprehension, and trailed it softly until it was stroking the strands of orange hair, moving back down to trace sweet and supple lips. The omega knew better than to bite, especially with the other vulnerable omega sleeping on the couch, “Did you like the touch of white lace? It reminded me so much of our wedding day, I just had to see you in it again. Like an angel. Something to be ravaged. I wonder how long it will take until you learn to be submissive again. Hm?”

Another derisive laugh. Another body quaking tremor, as one hand gripped him by his nape, pressed into the back of his neck and forced him down into a kneeling position. No longer was he looking slightly down at Daishou – now he was at the level he most feared, eyeing Daishou’s crotch directly. Hinata didn’t dare speak. If he opened his mouth, surely he –

“I can’t decide who I want to punish first.”

Something small shattered inside Hinata’s chest. Why couldn’t Oikawa be spared?

“My pitiful broken wife? Or the purebred slut?”

“Don’t hurt him.” Hinata’s voice was strained, and he felt the pull on his nape move to become a pull on his hair and his world tilted up until all he could see was Daishou. He wanted to kill him, more than that – he wanted to run far, far, far away, “Please, p-please. Daishou. Punish me first. Don’t hurt him, please, I can’t – I can’t watch him get hurt again. Do whatever you want with me, just don’t –“ He broke off into another sob, one that clutched at his throat and burned his lungs at the odd angle his head was being held at. A trickle of snot slowly dribbled down his face, sluggishly moving, mixing with the wet surface of tears.

“Ha. Do you know what I want to do to you?” Daishou pulled him closer, until Hinata’s chest was pushing the alpha’s thighs outwards, until he could practically feel the man’s arousal tickling his chin, hand heavy on his head, “I want to watch you scream. Beg. I’m going to fuck this slutty mate of mine and you’re going to watch every fucking second of it.”

The alpha pulled Hinata closer, a small pop disrupting the sniffles of the omega as his back cracked, Daishou’s smirk dancing, perverse pleasure glazing over his sharp eyes. Keep Oikawa safe, Hinata reminded himself. He couldn’t do anything while Oikawa was here. Because as much as they both hated to acknowledge it, Oikawa couldn’t fight against the bond mark, against his alphan mate’s decrees. They had tried that before, when fighting still appeared to be an option, before flight doused every sense. Daishou’s tongue darted out over the shell of his ear, hot breath, hotter words burning his eardrums as the alpha hissed, “It’s all your fault wife. You made me do this. If you had just given me what I wanted, I wouldn’t have had to buy a slut off the Duke’s brother, I wouldn’t have had to lock you up. You could have been perfect, if you’d just handed over the Hinata name to someone who’s actually worthy of it, wanted to start afresh with me. Beared my pups, raised them, I would have made you a happy omega. So, don’t put the blame on me for what I’m about to do, okay Shoyou? This is what you get for being such an ungrateful omega.”

The stench of cracked pepper grew stronger, the alpha’s scent expanding and encompassing every square centimetre of the room, to the point where Hinata’s eyes were watering. He cursed the fact that he could only smell his husband’s scent, even as his body tried to push back, retaliate.

“Stay still.” Something cold wrapped around his wrists, a clicking and a clacking that he associated from his trip to the police station, but he didn’t even bother take the stimuli in, another pair of eyes joining the couple.

Oikawa sat up.

And Hinata began to sob harder, writhing as the alpha let him go – drop to the floor, locking a chain into a hidden compartment of the glass coffee table – inconspicuous white frame hiding all manner of compartments. Hinata jerked against it, hands rubbing painfully on the metal. Oikawa, heat hazy and deep walnut-coloured eyes glazed over with primal instinct, began to tear up as well, nose heightened, able to smell the pure terror that emanated from the orange-haired man.

“Please, no! Daishou don’t do this. Don’t hurt him. Please. Take me instead, take me. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, just don’t touch him.”

“Alpha…?” Oikawa’s voice was raspy. Hinata didn’t question what from. Daishou ignored Hinata’s cries to turn fully to Oikawa capturing his lips in a kiss that stole the breath from both omega’s lungs. The latter purred at the contact, finally feeling some relief, the few tears he’d cried drying, so deep in his instinct,  “Mate?”

“That’s right, slut.”

“Alpha.” He crooned.

And Hinata cried.

He screamed when Daishou undid his belt, pulled out his hard leaking cock. He sobbed when Oikawa took it without hesitation, crooning and sighing – and moaning hard. He yelled when Daishou’s demeanour shifted from soft and gentle to hard, punishing and brutal, and even the purebred omega, whose body had been specially crafted to take and to give, screamed in pain.

Hinata could only watch, could only feel the burn in his arms and shoulders as he threw his weight towards the two, begging for them to stop, pushing his scent out as far as possible trying to push back against the imposing alpha’s to somehow reach his friend. He could only feel the blood oozing from his wrists rubbed raw against the metal chains that bound him. He deserved every bit of pain. And Daishou would deserve every bit of pain that Hinata dished back.

It burned into his eyes.

It reopened every single repressed memory he had.

Oikawa’s body limp, his eyes glassy in delirium, his tongue, currently unoccupied, loosened to the point of incoherent moans and whimpers. Like a doll. Like a toy. Different to the bride, the lamb to the slaughter that Hinata was meant to be, but with the same collars around their necks –  as Daishou chased his own pleasure and gave nothing to the omegas.

The Raven’s wings had been well and truly clipped.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard! I’ll fucking murder you, castrate you, rip your fangs out.” Hinata howled, seeing blood trickle from the place that no fluid should be trickling from – definitely not the alpha’s cum, “Don’t hurt him! Get off him!”

“He.. fucking – ahh – he fucking wants this, Shoyou – oh, yeah, keep doing that – Don’t you baby. Do you like this slut?”

“Alpha.” Oikawa gagged on his words as two fingers prodded at his open mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Hinata watched Oikawa’s eyes roll into his head as his body spasmed, but another large probing hand stopped the impending release. Punishment. Hinata pushed further forward, trying to pull the table along with him, spinning and twisting the chains, yanking on the metal, clattering, screeching. He felt his muscles burn; ligaments stretch. Punishment.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Just, take me, take me instead. I swear Daishou. Please I’ll be a good omega. I’ll do anything. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It was my fault, let me make it up to you. Please, please, just don’t hurt him. Let him go. I promise I won’t run away again. I’ll be the perfect wife.” Hinata’s heart was breaking. It hurt even more than his wounds, than his scar did. Oikawa’s face, while screwed up in ecstasy right now, would be clawed at later when the omega came back to himself, when he began to fall to his shame and self-hatred. It happened every heat, no matter what – and now, because of Daishou, it would happen ten times worse. Oikawa had remained strong all these years, because they believed in escape, because they had Suga by their side keeping them strong, because they made a family and he found a purpose, but they were back. Back where the nightmares truly began. Hinata sobbed.

“It’s too fucking late.” Daishou threw his head back and thrust hard, erratically into the omega – and Hinata, horror in his eyes, heavy on his heart, could see the alpha’s knot inflating.

“NO DON’T DO THIS. DON’T! DAISHOU PLEASE. PLEASE! DON’T KNOT HIM.”

But the alpha just pushed his knot fully in the omega, both of the spasming, as Oikawa screamed in pain and pleasure and fervent instinctual lust, Daishou in a growl and snarl of victory – leaning down to renew his bond mark, the whimpers and grunts that Oikawa made as the fangs broke skin. He pulled back satisfied and shifted the omega on his lap, still connected at the hips, giving access to his neck, the purebred lapping at his scent glands – humming softly, contentedly, rough tongue licking up pepper-scented sweat.

“You did this.”

“No, you bastard it’s all your fault.”

“No, actually it’s not.” Daishou glared down at him, “You made me do this to him. Didn’t I tell you, what, eight years ago? I’ve always wanted my omega to be full of pups at all times, and if I can’t have your pups, I’ll just have my whore’s pups. And when they’re born, we’ll keep the alphas and give the rest to the Duke, so they can be raised as sex slaves as well. Just like their Momma.”

“You’re sick.” Hinata spat, anger bubbling, mood swinging.

“Mmm, and you should actually have thought of the consequences when you ran off.” Daishou raked his nails down Oikawa’s bare back, the omega shivering underneath him. Red trailed in the alpha’s wake; tracks pressed into pale skin. Hinata squirmed on the floor, white lace beginning to itch as he sweated, feeling unbidden feelings rise. They weren’t his, he knew that, they weren’t true, they were just implanted and twisted by the emotional manipulation and intimidation bullshit that Daishou was trying to pull.

“You can’t escape me Shoyou.”

Daishou’s foot stepped down on the chain that trailed to the coffee table, wrenching Hinata’s head to the floor, the omega stopping himself before he ended up with a concussion. He growled, lowly, but the alpha merely smirked, “I’ll have what’s rightfully mine one way or another. If you run and try to escape, I’ll break your legs. If you try to talk and scream, I’ll gag you. Don’t forget that the world thinks you’re dead. There’s no one out there that’s going to come looking. There’s no one out there that cares enough about you – you killed them all yourself.”

Hinata whimpered. That hurt. More than he wanted to admit.

“And when I present my poor psychologically addled bonded wife back to the world, to announce that you live once more,  I’ll take your title, your inheritance, your ships and company, I’ll take your everything. And when I have everything, I’ll torture you, slowly and painfully, and give you the death your father and your disgusting Aoban mother truly deserved.”

A pause. A singular heartbeat. A singular thudding, pounding, wretched heartbeat.

“Just because you escape from me once, doesn’t mean you can escape me again. You’re mine.”

•••

Slapping of waves. Swaying. Sweet lullabies, sugar coated promises. Slap. Slap. Slap.

The water was beautiful. Freeing. It was so untamed, it was so blue and deep, and from beyond the thin rod and chubby hands that clutched it, fish flapped their wings and flew, skating among the surface. Gulls cawed. Caw. Slap. Slap. Slap.

It felt safe. But he couldn ’t shake the sense of unease.

Sparkling blue, glinting sun off every reflective surface. Glassy ocean, glossy guns, pointed and poised, not outwards, inwards. They didn ’t shoot. Not now. It was safe.

It was safe. Because there was blood.

Fish against the deck. Flapping, slapping, red blood growing larger, pooling. Wet hands grabbing, at it, fine flesh dipped in white, grabbing at the flapping, slapping fish. Sparkling scales, gills flexing, dying. His hands brought the fish to one of the adults, eyes crinkling over black balaclava, hand directing him to below the deck.

Something shifted.

And everything stunk of honey.

Hands grabbing his face, forcing white plastic down, the sweet taste hitting the back of his throat, hitting his tongue, he didn ’t want to swallow, but the hands following the plastic and they weren ’t slathered with the substance, so he swallowed. It was sweet. Right now, it was still safe. Guns, but no bullet holes. Big men, but no beatings. His stomach didn ’t hurt. It was safe.

They gave him smoked fish for his dinner.

Safe.

Still useful. Still safe.

Something shifted again.

And he was stumbling. The world was white. Too white. Too bright. Clinical. Stumbling along dark, dank corridors to a room that stunk of mildew and cleaning products, and beneath that – blood. Writhing. Screaming. They had to take it out. But he didn ’t want to see the metal. Scalpel pressing down, anaesthetic in quantities too pitiful. Beady eyes, imprecise hands, scarring, scarring, scarring. And he was screaming, screaming, screaming. Louder. Heart pounding faster. Writhing.

It hurt. Burning in his navel, in his chest, up and down his stomach. Bruising where they were cutting, bruising when they healed. Another trip across the sea, on a different fishing boat.

And then chanting, bodies against bodies, some warm, some cold, some dying as bruising bruised purple and black. Soft chanting, warmth gained from the strain of unused vocal cords.

“Slather it with honey, stick it down their throat, send them off across the seas, on a fishing boat. ” Again. Again. Again. Burning in his mind, in his thigh, carved into flesh and memory alike.

Healing. “Slather it with honey. ” Bleeding. Honey. “Stick it down their throat. ” Travelling. Fish. “Send them off across the seas. ” Darkness. Pain. Cycle to repeat. Never-ending, spinning in his mind. “On a fishing boat. ” Never to escape. Spinning, spiralling. Healing, bleeding, “Slather it – honey, safe, travelling – pain, “Fishing –“ darkness, too bright “Send –“ Vessel. Tool. Burden. Spiralling.

And there he was on the operation table, staring up into blank eyes, a set face, whispered words, “Hush now pup. ”  

“Hush now. ” The voices chanted, louder and louder, “Be quiet. Be still. Vessel. VESSEL. BE QUIET BE STILL. BURDEN. ALL YOU ARE IS A NO GOOD, GOD FORSAKEN TOOL TO BE USED. NOTHING YOU SAY WLL EVER MATTER. SLATHER IT WITH HONEY. TOOL. STICK IT DOWN THEIR THROAT. YOUR PARENTS SOLD YOU. SEND THEM OFF ACROSS THE SEAS. PATHETIC. YOU ’RE THE FISHING BOAT –“

Tadashi woke up screaming.

The world crashed down around him, visions of flashing white and sparkling blue melting from the air he breathed, inhabiting his lungs as his scent flared outwards in a plea for help. Smoking fish, and the dripping tantalizing scent of crystallised fear in the folds of crystallising honey, coating his airways, coating the air around him. Forcing his eyes from screwed up to open, he found the world not too bright, but a comfortable warmth, sunlight soft in the air.

And the chanting gave way to worried voices.

“Tadashi. Tadashi. Come on, come ‘ere, hush now. It’s ok. It’s ok.” Warm hands, cold clothes, too warm, too cold, too different. The sheets weren’t he same soft ones at home, where his nest was, the sensations were different to the piles of blankets and pillows that Oikawa had given him, saying that every omega needed his own throne, even if it was made out of cushions. Too thin, too exposed. Even the soft light that his unseeing eyes took in was too bright. He shivered and curled in on himself once more, squeezing every shut, shutting everything out.

“Did you get another nightmare? I get them all the time.” The voice was soothing, soft, girlish. Natsu had wormed her way into his cocoon, her hands warm. She too had woken up to screaming, his, not her own, “Do you know what Shoyou told me about them? He said that the past is the past, and the future is the future, but don’t let the present get stuck between the two. I have no fucking clue what it means, but I think he was trying to say that it’s ok to get scared, we just can’t let fear consume us.”

Tadashi listened to the way the words sounded. Listened to her hushed tone and the syllabic rhythm of her voice, the way her mouth moulded the words. She sounded like an aristocrat, but there was an edge – the same wildness that Hinata had in his voice. You could tell a lot about a person from what they sounded like.

Slowly and surely his fear subsided, thought his scent remained the same scared, fearful, wanting for comfort. Natsu continued to talk, but his mind got stuck on the phrase “we can’t let fear consume us.”. Hadn’t he been doing that? For years?

Another pair of arms, another warmth settled around his middle, and he turned his head, opening his eyes to see a brown head of hair and shock of blond, Nishinoya spooning him, seemingly subconsciously. But then the omega, opened his eyes, and frowned sleepily, “I don’t know what you went through, and I know you’re years older, but… anyone who hurts you will have to go through me now. And whatever happened in the past, I don’t think anyone judges you –“

“No one blames you, Tadashi.” Kenma popped his head from behind Natsu’s form, and Tadashi turned his head carefully back to face the other, careful not to bump his chin on Natsu’ curled form. The omega had a glint in his eye – and Tadashi knew that Kenma knew what happened. He’d always known, Tadashi supposed, after all, he’d wiped the very files that held the information, “It wasn’t your fault. Never was, never will be.”

“They can’t take you back.” Natsu rubbed the bottom of her chin along Tadashi’s side, trying to align herself with any bit of the man’s body. Her soft fragrant scent slowly overtook the panicked one, bursts of sweet jasmine and soft trickles of sunflower permeating. And the textures of the other omega’s were soon added to the air as well, all calming, the jasmine encouraged by lavender overtones and fresh salty undertones – courtesy of Kenma, and Noya his own melted sugar and pear, smelling of a fair in the springtime, somewhere foreign, “Your ours now, remember?”

“I…” His voice was hoarse from the screaming, from the tangling constriction of crippling fear against his windpipe, “Th..thank you. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for something you can’t control. Isn’t that what you all told me a week ago?” Noya was quick to admonish, the barely-adult’s tone harsh and direct, yet still kind, “It’s life. It’s shitty, but still life. A nightmare will come, a nightmare will go… we just keep walking, and one day we’ll find a palace of dreams to sell our wares and buy their shares.”

There was a pause, Natsu recalling the talk Nishinoya had had with Takeda before the elder’s departure, Tadashi not trusting his voice entirely, and Kenma confused but mostly uncaring. It was quiet for a few seconds, a natural lull, before Noya bit his lip, hugged Tadashi a bit tighter and whispered, “That was something my Oma taught me. It’s a Travellers thing.”

“Fukurodani?” Kenma asked, interest piqued. Tadashi let the voices wash over him, stress free, fear free. Calming, soothing. Natsu continued to scent, and Noya on his other side – hugging his back aggressively, began to rub his nose along Tadashi’s spine. Pleasant shivers tingled up his spine.

“Yeah.” Noya breathed, letting the fresh yet heady pear scent excrete from his scent glands, washing over Tadashi.

A door opened. Ennoshita stepped out from the ensuite and was bombarded with the sweet delicate scents of his packmates, Tadashi curled up in the middle, eyes red-rimmed, face blotchy and pale, and he knew – even though he didn’t hear the screaming in the middle of his shower – that there had been yet another nightmare. He knew nothing of the omega’s past, but he’d been there to comfort him time and time again, and oh, how it warmed his heart to see Tadashi surrounded, nesting with the rest of the pack. And at the scent in the air, he was calming down well.

“Are you okay Tadashi?” He asked, straight to the point, not wanting to sugar coat anything more than the room already was. Ennoshita kept his scent close to his heart, and restrained against his natural omegan instincts to release it, not wanting such a savoury scent to sour the delicate mix of flowers and fruits in the air. Kenma’s brow furrowed, “Do you want me to get Suga?”

“NO!” Immediately, hands thrust out, scrambling to sit up and stop Ennoshita lest he rush to get their boss. Tadashi shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes, “Please, he’s already so worried about Hinata and Oikawa, I don’t want him to overwork. He’s so stressed.”

Ennoshita sighed, running a hand through his wet, slicked back hair. His fingers fumbled for his cigarette packet in his pocket, “Can you imagine just how much more stressed he’d be, if he found out that you were keeping things from him?”

Wasn’t worded the best way, but by the paling of Tadashi’s already pale face, the omega understood exactly what Ennoshita was trying to say. The latter finally grabbed hold of his cigarettes, and pulled them out of his pockets, “I didn’t – just.” Tadashi grabbed for words, Nishinoya dropping his head on the other’s shoulder and looking up at Ennoshita. He seemed less averse to touch than a week ago, Ennoshita noted quietly. Both of them did.

He sighed again.

“I’ll let him know. He worries for all of you. Whether you like it or not. You’re also included in that Kenma.” Ennoshita managed to fix the shifting eyes with a stare, “Though I could tell things were tense last night.”

“I mean, so are you.” Kenma turned his nose slightly in the air, fingers scrunching bedsheets, uncomfortable. And the other omegas laughed a little bit, and then a little bit more at the rosé his cheeks tinged.

“Of course.” Ennoshita didn’t blink.

He found Suga in the kitchen, hunched over Kenma’s computer. They’d been here for three days. It had been three days. Three fucking days. And everyone could tell Suga was getting restless. He and Sakusa had come to an uneasy truce the first night, that somehow ended in an uneasy friendship – something Kenma told them to brush off, because it was Suga and he wasn’t being refreshing he was a downright nuisance. Though, Ennoshita thought, walking towards the silver-haired omega, Kenma brought his own biases to the table. They all did. Everyone was restless without the Ravens. It was as if they felt the need to become more chaotic, compensating for the loss of their brethren.

Though was it a loss? Missing for sure, but lost?

Kenma had opened the digital files for the security cameras, the morning after arriving, where they found the House empty – Oikawa’s room ravaged, pile of folders and photos half burnt, police tape outlining each major piece of furniture, creating a perimeter around a map of the city. They had been taken, against all their prayers and wishes to the many deities.

Suga hadn’t stopped searching.

No one had bothered stopping him.

Because Natsu had started crying. Tadashi nearly dropped again. Ennoshita had to add another tattoo, in the crook of his wrist, something similar to the Shiratorizawa omegas, to remind himself, to never let himself forget his origins, his brothers, his struggles, the pain. And Kenma, Kenma hadn’t done anything, sat statue still, his hands poised above the keypad of his computer, videos of the security cameras flickering, numbers ticking, rewinding, watching, rewinding, watching – the fifteen minutes it took for the police to first arrive, and his best friend to be carted away. One tear. One perfect tear, as his heart broke, watching the uniforms he knew so well, manhandle the omega he loved so much. Watching both the men he devoted his life to on opposite sides of the law. And he watched his world implode, his supernova and his blackhole, tearing apart the fabric of his universe.

Ennoshita hadn’t bothered trying to stop Suga.

Kenma hadn’t bothered to sleep until his calloused fingers were smarting, creaking, and aching from typing, breaking into the police cameras – which he had noted with grim determination two nights ago, had been updated with code that specifically defended against hacking. Yet he hadn’t allowed himself to be bested.

And when he cracked the code, in one cold early morning, Sakusa disapproving of his insomniac tendencies but providing him with mint flavoured snacks, and a warm drink when he most needed it, Kenma had found nothing. An empty interrogation room, near-empty offices, Karasuno and Nekoma units together yes – but void of Kuroo, void of the Captain’s and any main member of the team. And they had feared the worst.

So here, Ennoshita found Suga, who was currently climbing back through the records, and judging by the way Sakusa rolled his eyes when Ennoshita gestured towards the hunched man, had been sitting there for a while. He had gotten to evening, three days ago – their first day spent at Sakusa’s, Ennoshita could see the ticking numbers on the screen.

“Morning.” He greeted stiffly.

Suga mumbled something back, and Sakusa nodded.

“Um… Suga-san,” Ennoshita added the honorific for emphasis, and it did its job well, the other omega unsticking his eyes from the computer screen and turned, revealing them to be as red-rimmed as Tadashi’s. Ennoshita neither wavered not stuttered at the sight, maintaining his composure, soldiering on, “Tadashi had another nightmare. He’s calmed down from it now but –“

“I’ll go check.” Suga’s brow had furrowed, and before Ennoshita was finished speaking, the omega was hurrying across the room. The screen flickered as the video reset.

“I’ll get some masks ready for you all.” Sakusa said after the omega, not raising his voice, but it carrying nonetheless. It had become very clear after the first night that some scents were particularly… triggering for some members of the household.

Ennoshita inclined his head at stovetop, the electric appliance glowing orange, “Do you need help with breakfast? Also, do you mind if I…”

“No, you’re not going to smoke in my house, or in fifty metres of me, thank you very much.” Sakusa narrowed his eyes, pointing insistently. Ennoshita would’ve bet money that his mouth was turned down in a frown behind that mask of his. So, he slipped the cigarette from his lips and smiled.

“Fair enough, though I might have to ask for a pressing of the keys, because late night smokes are where I want to be right now. Stress, ya know?”

“There are different ways of coping with it.” Sakusa did not mince his words, but he wasn’t unkind – not entirely, “Cooking for one thing.”

“I’m going to choose to ignore that pointed jab, and take you up on the offer for helping with breakfast.” Ennoshita didn’t mince words either, “Are there gloves –“

Sakusa tapped the box of clear plastic gloves on the counter, from which the other removed two, deftly snapping them on, making sure they hadn’t curled under, or over, stretching them out properly, He was all too familiar with the uncomfortable stretch that could occur if he didn’t put the gloves on properly, having to use many over his career. Sakusa appreciated the deftness, how readily he accepted them. He didn’t feel like more of a freak from Ennoshita’s actions, and for that he was grateful. Though he would never admit that.

Carefully, Sakusa directed Ennoshita to chopping some vegetables – saying that if Tadashi wanted the wound on his back to heal properly, they would have to eat some hearty meals. None of the convenience store junk. The other omega laughed, and began to chop, the carrots falling in near perfect intervals. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to let someone in his kitchen, Sakusa thought, if that person could cut as neatly as this man did.

“Say, what do you do for a living? Or are you a full-time gang member?” He kept his tone probing, but kept the curiosity from it. It came out slightly scathing, something he’d have to work on in the future, if he ever wanted to get closer to Tadashi’s friends. Pack as well, he supposed, “You didn’t even blink when I asked you to wear gloves in the kitchen.”   

“I’m not a mortician if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks for the image while I’m preparing food.”

“I’m sure you have a strong enough stomach to handle it,” Ennoshita smirked, scraping his knife along the chopping board to add the carrots to the pan where Sakusa was frying garlic and onions, tipping various sauces in, exact quantities spilling from the pan. The omega had his mask on, so he must have been very well versed at the quantities needed for specific tastes.

“You’re avoiding my question. Does it make you that uncomfortable?”

“Ah, not really. I’m used to working with gloves, my brothers run Tiger’s Tattoos a suburb up from here, and I’m a trained tattooist. It’s a stable job, and steady income, even if some people at the university I went to think it’s a bit of an ‘unclean’ profession.” Ennoshita huffed a dry, bitter laugh, shaking his head at the middle-class assumptions. If only they knew what circles he involved himself with now, far more dangerous than the ‘dark’ academics some claimed themselves to be.

“Oh, whatever lets you live, and I’ve heard that that place is reputable.” Sakusa tossed the pan, the carrots flipping over themselves and coating each other in a honey-brown syrup, accentuating by the orange of the carrots. Ennoshita began to chop the celery, knife coming down sharply on the board. For a minute all that could be heard were the muffled voices in the next room, as Suga talked, comforted and whatnot, and the sizzling of breakfast on the stove, “Is that why you’re so steady with your hands?”

Plastic crinkled as Ennoshita moved from celery to mushroom, the creak of a door swinging on its hinges adding to the background noise as the smell – a real tantalizing food smell – began to draw some of his pack out of the nesting room Sakusa had graciously given them for the past few nights. Nishinoya sat at a bar stool first, pulling on some black gloves, somewhat sleepily, resting his head on his hands and gazing longingly at the black pan where Sakusa had resumed tossing the vegetables.

“Yeah, but only with needles and tattoos and all that, I can’t apply it that easily to guns though. Call it the brawler in me, but I prefer punching. I want whoever I’m fighting to smell me, and know that they got taken down by an omega.” He scraped the knife across the board and listened to the sizzle of the pan, “Do you want me to start working on the meat?”

“Can you get some eggs out of the fridge? We’ll be having omelettes today.”

Ennoshita did so.

And Nishinoya’s gaze went from the pan to Ennoshita’s back as he turned to open the white fridge, and finally settled on the computer, it’s video still flickering and moving and resetting. Caught in a perpetual loop of an hour, his fingers hovered over the keypad. He didn’t really know what he was doing with this piece of technology or any piece of technology really, but if there was one thing that Kenma had taught him over the past few days, it was how to fast forward and do the opposite – rewinding? – yeah, he knew how to rewind security footage. His fingers moved the mouse to the double arrows pointing left and clicked… and clicked… and clicked…

“Oh, my fucking gods.” He swore in his home language, and both the omegas who were preparing breakfast turned to him, his shock scenting the air immediately. Nishinoya looked up at Ennoshita, his own fear reflecting in the near-black irises, “I’ve found them, oh shit, we’ve got them!”

His voice carried, and that summoned a tired, determined Suga to his side. Kenma too. Natsu and Tadashi following, the latter looking worse for wear. Sakusa immediately turned the stove-top off and offered Tadashi a eucalyptus scented mask, something neutral for both of them, then drew him close to his side, in a way that was supposed to be comforting. It was. Though anxiety still stunk in the air.  

For twenty minutes the stood like that. Nishinoya sandwiched between Kenma and Suga, as they watched the screen, watched video flicker. Watched the kidnapping. And Natsu, Ennoshita, Sakusa and Tadashi watched their reactions, though at one point plating breakfast and forcing those who didn’t have direct accessed the computer to eat. Tense, rancid silence, air filled with fervent anticipation, oppressive muggy scents, like a flower garden swept by harsh salty winds, centred in the middle of a downtown district, the savoury scents mixing murkily with the other floral ones.

“Shit.”

“SHIT.”

Both Suga and Kenma swore, Suga’s swear noticeably louder. Immediately he became frantic, “Shit, fucking –“

He was met with questioning eyes, questioning stares and glares and a cold omelette in front of him. The omega ignored breakfast to explain, “They were kidnapped from the police – taken. Fuck, I should’ve been there. I told…” He shook his head, “One of Oikawa’s mates took him back. Hinata too.”

He didn’t want to reveal anything more than necessary, it was Hinata’s story. It was the omega’s alone to tell.

“They need help. We – no, I –“ A plan was already formulating in his head, leaving everyone else confused.

“How do we find them?”

“They’re at Lord Nohebi’s residence.” Kenma interjected, and Suga hissed at the admittance.

“Wait,” Sakusa’s voice was now alarmed at the notion of another Noble, pressed by his own past that he wanted to hide, “What does that have to do with anything? Is the Lord of House Nohebi, Oikawa’s mate?”

“Keep your goddamn mouth shut Kenma, it’s Oikawa’s –“

“They need to know if they’re to help!” Hands thrown up, Kenma countered Suga with ease.

“We don’t know where they are!”

“We have tabs on them!”

“Our tabs weren’t updated! That’s what we were meant to be doing the night where everything turned to shit.” Suga pressed insistently, gloved hand coming down on the counter hard. Everyone flinched. He reached down to pick up his bag, one he’d kept by the door – nearly inconspicuously, but one that everyone had noticed – ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He stood. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, “They need help. Now.”

He couldn’t tell them why, couldn’t betray his brother’s trust. They knew that, he knew that – everyone felt the wide aching chasm stretched out in front of them, a crevice filled with devastating secrets. No one said anything to acknowledge it, but it joined the heaviness of the air, oppressive, crushing chest and lungs alike. Suga merely stood there, on the other side of the chasm, hands up in frustration, scent harsh, heart aching in tandem with the clock on the wall.

Ennoshita was the first to speak, unlit cigarette – respecting Sakusa’s wishes – now perched between lips. He crossed his arms, Natsu leaning on one propped bicep, “Suga, what are you planning?”

“No, I can’t – you can’t come with me. I won’t allow you to get hurt.”

Tadashi stared, burden, his thoughts reminded him, tool, they throbbed, “Let us help!” His voice cracked, his body untrusting of his mind, “Please, they’re our brothers too.”

“No, you don’t understand –“

“HE’S MY BROTHER! You know where he is, let me –“

“Natsu, Natsu, baby –”

“I’m not a fucking baby Suga.”

“I know that, I know, I –“ His breath hitched, as he gathered his bag in his arms, but not tears fell. Though they glistened, they didn’t fall, “Please all of you, believe me, trust me, I’m going to be ok, they’re going to be ok. I – I’m going to be calling in a favour.” A lie, a necessary lie, “It’s dangerous, and I can’t, I can’t see you getting hurt again.”

“But –“

Suga bared his fangs, instinctively, then realising what he had done, gasped. Stumbled backwards, as the others – shocked – stepped back. Suga had never bared his fangs at anyone before, never let his instincts control him that much, never let anyone so much as see them. Tears spilled, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I have to. I can’t see my people getting hurt like this. I –“

Kenma, the only omega who didn’t move back, took a step forward, fangs bared slightly at the sight of Suga’s own ones, “You can’t go alone, that’s idiotic. You’ll just be repeating your past fucking mistakes. And you’re going to get hurt, again. We can figure something out from here, something that will keep us all safe.”

“I have to. It’s non-negotiable Kenma.” The cold hard edge grated everyone the wrong way, but they heard the desperation in his voice.

“They can take care of themselves, it’s not your job!” Kenma’s voice rose to a shout, hushing anxious titters around the room. His jaw was set, “You’re just running from the truth! Like you always fucking do.”

“I’m not running from it. I promise. I’m not running from you all, I don’t think you’re weak. I think you all are strong beautiful people and I love you all so, so much. More than anything. I’ve killed for you guys –“ He looked around at the group, tears dripping down each members face, Kenma’s twisted into a harsh grimace, Tadashi outright sobbing into Ennoshita’s side, Natsu clutching onto his other side as if it were her last lifeline. Sakusa stood stoically, observing everything, –“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It –“

His eyes dried.

“–I have to go. “

Someone took a step towards him.

“No, don’t try and stop me. Don’t you dare."

Suga’s eyes burned with a determination that no one could stand against, a fire that raged in and out of his heart, burning everyone that stood around him. No one dared get close, not when Suga’s eyes were hanging on the precipice of inky blackness, when his scent spoiled so harshly a sewer might as well have burst. Not when his small omegan fangs, canines more than anything, glinted dangerously sharp. Glinted so harshly that Tadashi could see the intricate carving in the enamel, something set in silver. Something he’d only seen in – his watering eyes widened in realisation.

“I – I promised them.” Suga gasped out. Regret. Rage. Unbridled instinct. At himself, more than anyone else. All he could feel was the guilt, the pain, the promise, “I promised that I’d keep them safe. I promised I would stand by their side, on their side. WE MADE A FUCKING BLOOD OATH IN ALL THE GODS WE KNOW, in every fucking language that we know.” His voice dropped to barely a quiver, but somehow remained steely, determined, “I promised them. And I know I promised you too but I can’t let you guys suffer more than you already have.”

Suga would get them back. He would. Only he knew what Hinata and Oikawa went through, only he was privy to each horrifying detail.

“I love all of you more than you could ever know.” He gathered the group in his arms, straps of his bag pressing against heads, shoulders, arms. Ennoshita – who had stepped forward the first time – was the first to embrace and the first to let go, his expression hard but eyes watering and he nodded abruptly, leaving traces of his savoury scent on Suga. Tadashi hugged tight and hugged hard, not wanting to let go, and Suga’s heart broke even further when the man turned his head to Suga’s ear and whispered.

“Swear to me you’ll come back alive.”

Suga nodded, head whipping up and down and pulling Tadashi’s  face back, wiped his eyes free of tears and kissed him, just once, a long kiss that pulled the man from his thoughts, a long kiss that hopefully showed all of Suga’s undying love, all of his feelings and emotions, his trust. And Tadashi felt it, and Tadashi cried some more.

Natsu wrapped her arms around his middle and glared up at him, “I’ll kill you if you die. I swear –“ She hiccupped –“I promise Suga, I…” She dissolved into loud cries, wetting his shoulder, scenting him incessantly.

Noya didn’t know Suga well enough to sob, even cry made him a bit too uncomfortable, but he hugged him nonetheless, allowing Suga to relax on him rather than the other way around, rubbing his shoulder blades with a soft but calloused hand.

Kenma settled for a handshake, eyes defiant. Sakusa gave him an almost imperceptible nod. And satisfied, he turned to say his last goodbyes –

“Look after them Sakusa, Ennoshita.”

For which he didn’t stay to watch their reactions.

Suga had promised them. And he would follow through. Even if he had to make a deal with the devil himself. Even if he had to put his life on the line. Even if it came down to the ultimatum – his life or theirs.

Into the inky blackness he walked, away from the stares, his friend’s quiet cries and silent pleas to take them with him, and into the devil’s lair, out into the cold darker world.

“Forgive me for leaving. Again.” Suga whispered to no one but the night and all her lonesome stars.

Chapter Text

Sunday. 11:46 am. The bright screen just wasn’t bright enough to make out any notifications, but it didn’t stop the white numbers on the darker background from attempting to glare at Kageyama. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back in the midday sun, the heat reminding him that summer was rolling around the corner, and the time that was passing, was passing fast.

Four days. Four days since he had woken up to a throbbing, bruised left arm – one which had remained useless for around eight hours, but then quickly regained strength. Merely a sedative for that bastard to rip Hinata – Should he say Shoyou? Raven? – from his arms and cart him off to fuck knows where. Four days that they’d been following the one alpha that could find him, having to trust his nose. Four days for Bokuto to prove what a natural born hunter he was, and how little interaction he’d had with cities, laws and technology.

Four days for them to end up half way to the Capital.

Trekking behind his co-workers and superiors and the man who rears fucking owls for a living, he conserved his breath, taking a swig of his water and tried not to be envious of the people also trekking the streets, those dressed in light coloured, breathy clothing that actually moved when the wind did and didn’t stick to their skin when sweat dripped down their foreheads, and shoulders, and backs, and armpits, and ass-cracks. Gods above he hated hot weather. Kageyama was a hot-blooded man, not hot-headed (though his old military unit and his older sister would think quite differently), preferring colder climates over hot, or at least somewhere with some good fucking wind to soothe the hot prickles of adrenalin beneath his skin, and the blood within his veins. And the bulletproof vest hidden beneath a jacket wasn’t really helping the situation.

The streets here were open, paved with asphalt all the way to the capital and all the way around the winding, climbing roads that tongued the tail ends of the mountains. The Kitsune Mountains, whilst keeping Fukurodani from Inarizaki, also split their country in two North from South, petering out where this town started, a half-way place that had blossomed for the rich and indulgent, caught between no purpose and too much money. And of course, the whole country was cordoned off by the cliffs that wound and ran their way down the entire East Side. The Cliffs of Tomorrow, having survived many sea sieges from the pirates of Shiratorizawa, many storms and sleepless nights. Battles were carved into the stone, and if Kageyama were to take another five steps to his right and vault the railing he would become one of those battles – blood a splatter on the side of the cliff, another thing the world would have to remember, and people would have to forget.

But he wouldn’t. Because this cliff-side town – a town literally built on a cliff, trailing paths etched into stone, roads so steep that they weren’t even roads, funiculars travelling up and down the rock face, just to get to the ‘lower end’ and ‘richer suburbs’ – this cliff-side town, was where Hinata and Oikawa undoubtedly were, the latter’s scent coming to Bokuto in a primal rush.

He hoped they were safe.

Scratch that, they weren’t safe. He knew they weren’t. He could feel it in his gut, in every nerve ending. But Kageyama hoped that they were still alive. That their suffering had eased just a bit.

…

That Oikawa hadn’t been taken advantage of in his heat state. That Hinata’s pale, unmarked neck hadn’t been marked, and his life hadn’t been tied to the filthy rotting scum of Lord Nohebi.

Drinking in the deep blue sky, the Officers continued their trek, coming to a crest in the landscape. Bokuto stopped here, his gaze turning outwards from the asphalt road to the wide expanse of sea stretching out beside them. Wind whipped their clothes, so fierce that even the alpha’s hair – with its careful twisting horned style, deflated and fell subject to the elements. Kageyama was grateful for the biting coolness, but it hurt, like sharpened knives, darts or arrows grazing every part of exposed skin, and even worming its way past the heavy-duty fabric of their trouser. Daichi lifted a water bottle to his lips, and passed around the paper bags of sweets they’d snagged off a street vendor early on.

“The wind’s interfering with the tracking.” Bokuto said simply, his eyes losing their darkened quality briefly as he too lifted a canteen to his lips. The strong smell had Kageyama thinking some sort of liquor. Yet there was only clarity in those eyes. Kuroo held his hand out for the canteen next, Iwaizumi drinking afterwards.

“You can still track them, yeah?” Daichi ripped his eyes from the blues of the sea and the sky to stare at Bokuto.

“Mm.” The alpha hummed, his nostrils flaring, “’Course, but we’re going to have to take one of those weird tram things further down, the scent’s coming up not across.”

“Can you at least pinpoint what direction they might be? We’ve been wandering for a day in this shitty town and haven’t gotten anywhere.” Kageyama didn’t mean to be harsh, but he couldn’t help but feel angry. They were being too slow. Didn’t everyone else feel this sense of urgency that he did?

“Ha… have you hunted before?” Bokuto shed his bag and led them off the asphalt, avoiding a group of betas that were huffing and puffing and panting as they climbed the hill, carrying carts full of wares to get to the other side of the town. If they were to let go… alas, there were many reasons why you weren’t allowed cars in town, unless of course you were passing through the highway, the asphalt roads for ease of travelling, but with divots to ensure that if one were to let go of their cart, it wouldn’t roll too far, for too long. Kageyama wasn’t one to question roads generally, but the amount of sweat that had gathered on his back alone was nearly inhumane. He nearly longed for the cooler weather of the North, even if he was facing imminent death nearly constantly.

Daichi put his bag down as well, on the stone of the lookout, ignoring the bronze plaque to sit down at a seagull-shit covered bench, sighing. Iwaizumi followed suit, except he merely stared out at the horizon, frown creating creases in wrinkles. Kageyama would’ve pulled his jacket off if he hadn’t caught his superiors glare, so he sighed and tried to move to some position where the wind was cool and not biting. Kuroo stood closest to Bokuto, turning his back to the view and watching the street carefully, having seen this view before. Bokuto hadn’t, so he stared, drunken on new experience, scoping out the houses below the cliff-line, the funiculars grinding, the people maintaining them mere specks. This town stretch from the end of the Kitsune Mountains to the down below the cliffs to the very shorelines of the country, the houses on the shore looking heavily barricaded and guarded against attack – whether by nature or by their fellow man.

“So have you?” He asked again, “Have any of you ever hunted before?”

“Omegas?” Daichi said, disgust only just peeking through his tone. He tried to hide it. To the others it became obvious that their head alpha had never hunted before.

“Yeah! Well, not just them, but like actual hunting. Boars, bears, wolves, caribou, eagles, snakes, foxes.” Bokuto ticked them off his fingers easily, pulling names from seemingly nowhere. There were too many memories to pull names from somewhere specific.

“Us Nobles hunt, but we don’t usually let our instincts take over.” Kuroo supplied genially to the conversation, smirking slightly as if finding the idea of letting his instincts take over slightly repulsive. He didn’t, but he was proud of the control he had over them, every alphan Noble had been taught to exert control over themselves and over others using their instincts, “And it’s normally in a group.”

“I’ve had to hunt when rations ran out in skirmishes. But that was usually rats and roaches and whatever we had on hand. Slight starvation doesn’t meant shit in the face of guerrilla warfare.” Kageyama shrugged. Daichi raised his eyebrows at this, everyone knew of Kageyama’s transfer and his past, his ‘King of the Battlefield’ status, his achievements at the young age of eighteen, but no one really asked about the specifics. The rest of the people – those that didn’t really know his past stared.

“Northern?” Kuroo was curious. He didn’t know.

Kageyama nodded, slightly disconcerted at the attention, wanting the spotlight off him and his past – which no one should really care about. It was the past. No one else needed the memories, “What about you Vice?”

“Yeah, I’ve hunted.” Iwaizumi didn’t off up any more information, still content with staring off into the distance.

It was quiet for a moment before Bokuto clapped his hands together and laughed, “Well, y’all are shit hunters then –“ It took all their pride to not launch themselves at the larger alpha –“Hunting is all about the thrill and the instinct and the chase. You pour all your soul into each hunt. It’s about finding the scent, finding the path and then losing it, and then having to fight with the skin of your teeth just to find it again. You have to ‘lose’ yourself to the alpha inside, become one. You do not have instinct; you are the instinct. It’s exhilarating.”

“So, you become a feral?” 

“Well to stop a feral, I have to become one, don’t I?” Bokuto tilted his head, staring at Kageyama. Everyone shivered, ferals were people who lost everything to their instincts – the true reason behind the name of ‘The Devils Forest’ – every feral who couldn’t be disposed of, were sent there to die.

“How do you stop yourself from losing your identity?”

“Haven’t I told you?” Bokuto looked confused, “How can I lose myself; I am becoming what I truly am? I am an alpha, and this is what alphas do. They hunt, they protect, they find what has been lost. We grow strong to protect those that are weak, we provide for the pack and make sure everyone is safe.”

Kuroo this time, was the one to laugh, his smirk growing ever wider, “You’re batshit insane.”

“So are you, hunting in a group.” Bokuto snorted, “Don’t they get in your way?”

“It’s ceremonial stuff.”

“One day we’re all going hunting, properly. The –“ He stopped himself, shaking his head, and the Officers, trained to noticed, took note. Bokuto quietened for a minute, then grinned, tapping his nose, “Your society wasn’t built for this. Cars confuse scents, perfumes do to, the only natural enemy of the nose should be wind and a particularly large shit. Your houses don’t even allow ventilation. How are you meant to release your scent fully if it gets stuck between four walls? It would never get out!”

“It’s not meant to.” Kageyama tilted his head, your society? Sure Bokuto seemed isolated, but label Inarizaki’s way of doing things as ‘your’ that was just a little far. Had he really come from Johzenji? That place was as hot as the climate could get, and yet Bokuto seemed to prefer his furs and wraps and colder-climate animals. Maybe that was why he moved. But he also hadn’t heard Johzenji to be that primitive, isolated for sure, but leading the way on cooling units (air conditioning they branded it). The only place that could make sense in this jigsaw puzzle (a much simpler one than the Corvid’s, that was for sure), was Fukurodani. But where was the shame in coming from there? Why did he want to hide? Kageyama’s head spun, and he chose to focus back on the main goal – Hinata.

“How else are we going to mark our territory?” Kuroo had a strange near predatory glint to his eyes (perhaps not strange, given his gender, but no one had been privy to it before).

“Um… by living there?” Bokuto was digging himself a deep, deep hole. But none of this made sense! Nothing about Inarizaki and its technological advances and its backward ways made sense.

“Going back to the main topic, what point were you trying to make about our society and hunting?”

“It’s not fit for hunting. My effectiveness –“

He stopped. Stilled. And stood ramrod straight, eyes darkening immediately. The only thing that moved was the wind the tugged his hair and his clothes and the flaring of his nostrils. And then he growled, low and guttural and causing the same group of betas who trying to bring their cart to the crest of the hill tumbling backwards.

Daichi stood and pulled his bag on. The rest of the Officers followed, carefully, slowly, not wanting to interrupt or disrupt whatever was going on inside Bokuto’s head. After the talk they just had, they knew the alpha was deep, deep inside his primal urges – where law and rational reasoning did not exist. Another growl spilled from the alpha’s lips.

Bokuto had been hunting for well over fifteen years. And he knew things. Lots of things.

He knew every tree by its scent.

Every animal by their musk. Their footfalls. Their cries.

He knew which way the wind blew when, and where it had come from. He made his enemy his friend.

He could look at his fellow and know how strong their control was over their alpha, or omega.

He could smell ruts and heats in the air.

And now, standing at the look, gazing down on the gradual slopes of the cliff, a town carved into an unliveable landscape, he could smell – as clear as the blue horizon and the white of the cliffs – he could smell his mate. The cloying scent of heat shattering, like a cord snapped, the harsh distress that replaced it acrid and bitter. If he could smell the changes – not just the trail – Oikawa must be close.

From left to right, he swung his head, feeling the wind though his hair, curling over his shoulders, lifting through his untucked shirt. Up. From down below, the wind was travelling up. Down. His mate was down.

Stalked over to the railing, looking down. Flaring his nostrils, head swinging side to side, following the scent. Down. Left. Distressed. A strong clear path, unhindered. Outside? Possible. Windows open. More likely. Close. Very close.

“Nuh-uh. We’re not jumping fifty metres. Get down.” Kuroo held onto the back of Bokuto’s shirt, the alpha unknowingly perched precariously on the lookout’s railing. He growled but didn’t say anything. And Kuroo smirked as the near-feral alpha allowed himself to be pulled back and down, “See? This is why control is necessary.”

Bokuto’s eyes flickered, “What’s one more scar?”  His voice was low and guttural.

“Two weeks’ worth of recuperation, that’s what.” Kuroo moved to grip the side of Bokuto’s jacket, rather than the bottom of his layers. He wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon, not when this suicidal maniac was their only way of finding Hinata, and Oikawa, “We’re taking a funicular down, and you’re going to tell us what you’ve been smelling. Okay?”

The tight grip and the carefully plastered-on smile didn’t leave room for negotiation. Kuroo was a detective through and through, but he was also a Noble, and he was used to weaselling what he wanted out of people.

Slowly their group, packs back on their back, Kageyama cursing the weather again, Iwaizumi still distant and tense (he couldn’t not be, thinking of everything that could be happening to the omegas, thinking of all the horrible things he’d seen happen to other omegas, thinking of how he could’ve stopped them, even if in reality he knew he couldn’t have), they moved from the lookout to picking their way down the road – eyes searching for the gap between rock, the wedge they’d now come to associate with a funicular railway, that and the large sandstone cream of the station, looking practically indestructible.

“Passes?” A nondescript alpha asked, wearing a scent mask. His uniform was fancy, and the station that they had found more so.

“Passes?” Daichi echoed.

“This part of town is strictly off limits to ordinary folk. Unless you can prove your position.”

“I –“ Daichi was fully prepared to whip out his badge.

“Lord Tetsurou Kuroo of House Kuroo, son of Chancellor Kuroo, heir to The University of Inarizaki, The Academy of Applied Sciences, Portside Vocational Academy, and The Institute of Chemical Technology, one of the co-creators of Miya Pharmaceuticals and business partners with Omegan Specialist Lord Haiba and the Medical Institute of Research, need I continue?” Kuroo had stepped forward, and had drawn himself to his highest, most dignified, reminding everyone in the room just exactly who he was. Yes, he was a detective, and he wanted to be treated just as such, but when the time came – like it had done today, he would not hesitated to bring up his more-than-important origins.

“Uh.., no. My deepest apologies my Lord, I did not realise.”

“That’s right, you didn’t even stop to think did you?”

“No sir. Sorry sir. Your ride will be ready in just a minute… my Lord.” The alpha bowed deeply and scampered off, one of his coat buttons coming undone in his rush to leaving the mortifying situation. Kuroo smirked.

“Was that really necessary Kuroo?” Daichi glowered.

Kuroo, not once letting go of Bokuto (the big guy wanted to start running down the funicular’s railway, he could tell), rounded on the man, hissing lowly, “Better than whipping out a badge and have him alert all the residences down there that there’s cops looking for people.”

“But they’re rich –“

“And that’s exactly why they think they can get away with shit. Because of money, because of status. Believe me, I fucking know.”
Kuroo straightened as the uniformed alpha walked over again, plastering a smirk on his face. Daichi remained scowling but the alpha paid no heed to the other sweaty, drably-dressed members of the group, focusing instead on the Lord and his whims and ways, “Right this way my Lord.”

“Thank you. I trust there will be refreshments for my men and I?”

“Yes Sir, the pods are stocked with all manner of drinks to suit your tastes, and your entourage will be cared for suitably.”

“That won’t do. Unfortunately, my men and I need to travel in the same cabin of the funicular, important matters,” Kuroo raised his eyebrows at the man, “You know, matters that can’t pass through walls, or leave the room.”

The alpha – they assumed he was some sort of concierge by now – nodded viciously, eyes widening, “Of course, how silly of me to assume. Please follow me. The ride should only take around eight minutes, due to the steepness of the slope we can only reach certain speeds. Else it would be dangerous. But don’t worry, there are state of the art facilities, and all the walls are soundproof. As well as this the front pod – which is the one you and your entourage will be in – has a conjoining glass wall and roof allowing you my Lord to fully take in the stunning views the cliffs and our town have to offer. Everything is fully in black and white making the natural blues of the ocean pop, as well as the natural vivid greens of the foliage still clinging to The Cliffs of Tomorrow. If you wish, seeing as you are not from our town Lord Kuroo, we can easily set you up on a sightseeing venture and –“

The man continued blabbering, subjecting Kuroo to a torrent of information that he didn’t want nor need, but had spent enough time dealing with that he knew when to nod and when to smile and say, “Ah I see.”

This was the real reason he wanted to become a detective, at least when you were a police officer you could tell someone that ‘thank for your time, that’s all the information we need’. Or alternatively, tell a criminal to ‘shut the fuck up’. The detective work was just a cherry on top of the cake.

Behind him he could hear Daichi supressing a laugh, and Kageyama’s murmured words to the former – who supressed his laugh harder, by the choking sounds of it. Bokuto growled lowly, trying to keep himself somewhat controlled in the environment they were in.

“Can… we.. hurry the fuck up.” Bokuto huffed out, unaware of the shocked stares from either side, focusing only on Kuroo’s straight back and the attendant’s nervous gestures (even alphas were slaves to capitalism, he supposed, how pathetic). The horned-hair (now deflated) alpha caught Kuroo’s eyes when the alpha turned back, and the slight nod as well, then feeling the pace increase and the smell get sharper, allowed himself to revert back into selective muteness – settling for growls and hums.

Iwaizumi was quiet as well. Thinking. Worrying. 

Once seated in their particular cabin of the funicular, he turned to Bokuto, and asked in a low timbre that barely withheld his bubbling rage, “Where is he?”

“Down. Left.” Bokuto’s eyes closed, and he tilted his head back, flaring his nostrils.

Kageyama slid open a window.

“He’s afraid. Distressed… Heat broke. Outside or…” He sniffed again, falling forward in the pod and shoving Kageyama out of the way poked his head outside. No one was stupid enough to try and draw him back in, much rather that he took his nose of on the rock face than have theirs bitten off by his fangs, “… No.. Window. Down. Someone’s there. Omega. Comforting my mate.”

Kageyama, disgruntled, perked up. As did Kuroo, lowering his mimosa (the attendant had practically forced it upon him before they left, and who was he, an upper-class alpha, to say no to a bit of liquor to calm his nerves?), and frowning, “What does the other smell like Bokuto?”

“Ginger. Afraid. Angry. Sad. My mate… terrified. Smells of…” And then Bokuto growled, and if reverberated through the carriage, to the point where quite a few of them hissed back mentally swearing to never get on another one of these things, it swaying violently, the vibrations travelling up and down the funicular, up and down the railway, “Alpha. Cracked pepper.”

“That would be Daishou.” Kuroo supplied, putting his champagne flute to his lips and chugging the rest of the beverage, then running his hands through his hair, “Fucking bastard. He’s not even –“

“I’m gonna fucking rip his head off.”

 “You and me both, now can you get out or your instinctual rage? Or are we gonna have to muzzle you.” They wouldn’t go that. The physically couldn’t. Both parties knew that. Bokuto’s fangs were chipped for a reason. His chest rumbled, and he nodded slowly – cautiously, molten copper drizzling slowly to a lighter gold. Not like his usual, but light enough that it seemed his instincts had taken a back-burner to rationality. He drew his head back inside,

“Sorry about that, not used to the strength once it’s about mateship. Much more used to bouts of strength.”

Kuroo looked down at the length of railway they had left, and at the fidgeting of the people in the carriage, even the ever stoic, ever exhausted Daichi tapping his foot anxiously. He would’ve offered a mimosa to him, but the look in the other alpha’s eyes had him hesitating. Instead, he poured a scotch for Iwaizumi, “Loosen up old man.”

“I’m younger than you.” Iwaizumi growled back.

“Not with those wrinkles and say –“ He effortlessly changed tack as Iwaizumi snarled, ripping the scotch from his hand and tipping it out the open window (spilling some on a now further disgruntled Kageyama, Daichi sighing) –“Bokuto, what do you mean bouts of strength?”

“Oh, well, you know, bears.”

“You fought bears?”

“Fight, present tense. The last one had me pretty bad, that’s where my big chest scar comes in. Got ‘im good though, after I healed enough to climb out of the ravine that I fell into – worst two weeks of my life –“ It didn’t look it, not with the way his eyes shone and his hands gestured wildly. Kuroo couldn’t help but grin, a large cat-like grin that would’ve had Kenma punching his arm and grumbling about how much of a creep he looked (he tried not to think about Kenma, he really did, but the hole in his heart only grew with each passing day), “I tracked his blood to the cave where he was hibernating and gutted him. It’s easier then fighting ferals but if you get swiped, their claws –“

“Sorry, did you just say you fight with ferals?” Now he had everyone’s attention, directly. Bokuto had had it before, but that was a passive ear in to his and Kuroo’s half-banter. Now it an overt stare, a rapt audience waiting for the first act to start.

Bokuto merely looked confused, “Uh… yeah. We’re not called the apex predator for no reason. Ferals have animal instincts on top of a resourceful human brain. I have to protect my territory, my owls and the lost when I find them. Ferals are just part of the package… Is it really that strange…?”

He looked oddly dejected.

The funicular shuddered to a stop.

“We’re not even going to start with that.” Daichi stopped whatever blunt remark had been budding on Kageyama’s and Iwaizumi’s lips, glaring at Kuroo’s shit-eating grin. Now they had another fucking mystery man who was too strong for his own good. Thank fuck he hadn’t given him a gun, Bokuto would probably take out half the town in an effort to get to his mate, “Let’s get back on task.”

“Yes Boss.” Two of the four men said. Kuroo inclined his head and Bokuto’s eyes darkened again. They all stepped out of the cabin, minding the gap.

“Still left? Do we need to take the next one and go down to the seas –“

“Left. Smells…” Bokuto’s eyes flickered and his nostrils flared. With an unnerving stillness to the rest of his body, he tilted his head, fangs extending slowly, no more than a quiet shlick of saliva against the whispering winds. Unnerving indeed. When he spoke, it was without the low, dark timbre he had before, but still choppy, as if forcing the words out, “It’s the furthest house, I think. There are animals inside. Warm-climate, smell… faint, faint… snakes. Many, many… different species. Mate… asleep. No, no, outside, window.” His head moved as he talked, breathing in air, breathing out information only he could ascertain. The Officers watched on, curious, “The alpha… pepper… sex. The other mate. The alpha is the other mate. He wants – he wants to mate ginger. My mate.. distressed. Ginger… angry,” Bokuto’s eyes widened, “Very, very… holy shit.”

And his eyes turned a light golden, “How fast can you all run?”

“What’s going on?”

“We need to get them out.” Bokuto ripped off his jacket – it would only weigh him down, and glared at the other alphas, “Right fucking now.”

•••

Hinata knew Oikawa’s heat broke the second it happened. It didn’t matter that they were in separate rooms. It didn’t matter that after the first hour Daishou had tired of hearing Hinata’s screaming and begging and threats, and had thrown him back into his room, the anaconda slithering over itself to observe the shaking orange-haired man. It didn’t matter that he sobbed himself to sleep that night, only to wake up and find the bed still empty, and a warm collar around his neck, chains long enough so that he could move but short enough that he couldn’t go anywhere of importance. It didn’t matter that he leaned out the unbarred window just to try and clear his head of the muggy, heavy scent of alpha, the only scent he wanted to get away from, but the only scent he could smell. None of that mattered.

For as soon as Oikawa’s heat broke, the edge that surrounded the air, the cloying sanguine edge to the woodsmoke and rain, a tropical thunderstorm in a continental climate zone, disintegrated into utter anguish. It was instantaneous and far-reaching, Hinata immediately sensing – not smelling, his nose still useless to him – the shift in the air. That was the level of potency.

The white lace and red embroidered roses of today’s dress did little to stop the chains from biting at his skin as he forced his body weight against them, throwing himself towards the door.

He hated it.

He hated this.

He hated being separated from Oikawa. He hated being back here. He hated the way Daishou had stared at him yesterday, smirking and smiling and face screwed up in sick ecstasy as he knotted Oikawa… again and again and again. He hated the way he told the maid not to feed him, the way he looked at the wiry muscle Hinata had gained, earned, working his ass off for, and said that he needed to lose that as soon as possible, to get back his omegan body. And Daishou liked his omegas small. Frail. Easily broken.

Like a trinket on the shelf.

Like a trophy wife.

The white lace itched his skin as he screamed in fury, throwing himself against the chains again.

“DAISHOU I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HURT HIM I’M GONNA RIP EVERY ORGAN FROM YOUR BODY, I’M GONNA PEEL MUSCLE FROM BONE AND WATCH YOU BLEED OUT, I’LL CUT YOUR FUCKING DICK OFF, YOU SICK PIECE OF SHIT! I’LL KILL YOU; I’LL KILL YOU; I’LL KILL YOU. YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET EVERY SECOND OF THIS YOU BASTARD! I’M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU! THERE WON’T BE ANYTHING LEFT TO IDENTIFY YOU WITH. NOT A FUCKING HAIR!”

He yelled his voice hoarse, feeling unease creep into his bones, and then let out an ungodly, soul-quavering, blood-curdling wail, one that was low and then went high, one that mourned, filled with anguish and hatred.

Like the motherfucking banshee he was.

Like the omega he was. Strong and unyielding.

There wasn’t a goddamn second in hell he’d act the perfect wife Daishou wanted him to act like. Not today, not – he screamed another scream, choking himself on his collar and falling limp to the floor. Which only succeeded in choking him more, the chain taut over the end of the bed. Seeing spots in his vision, he scrambled back, near tearing the white lace – but finding it too high-quality to be ripped so easily. The anaconda hissed. Tongue flicking in and out. In, out. Breathing easily in humid, filtered air. Hinata scratched at his collar, tugged at his chains and struggled to draw deep breath.

He had to stay strong.

“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. Over and over and over and over. Grind your bones into dust and feed the wolves the bread I bake from it. I’m going to tear you apart limb from limb and watch you bleed on the floor. I swear to the Gods, you motherfucker, you sick son of a bitch, you bastard, YOU INSANE FUCKING PIECE OF DOGSHIT I’M GOING TO KILL YOU. YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE. I SWEAR ON IT, IF IT’S THE LAST THING I FUCKING DO! IF I HAVE TO FUCKING DIE – Just please, PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM,” He sobbed, voice cracking and trembling and breaking, “Please don’t hurt him. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I’m begging you, please. Please.”

Hinata laid his head done on the cold, cold floor, and cried. Snot falling from his nose, body shaking, stomach rumbling and clenching, nausea rising bile in his throat like a fucking offering to a higher power. Sobbed, until he had no more tears left to cry. Until all that he felt was a pounding headache.

… And the echoing sounds of footsteps.

He lifted his head weakly as the door banged open, the air feeling heavier already as distressed whimpers and groans caught his attention. It took a moment for his eyes to clear.

“Well, well, well. Already presenting for me, huh Shoyou? That eager are we? Don’t worry wife, I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” Daishou was smirking, Hinata could tell – even though all that the omega saw was blurry faces through his wet mask of tears. He laughed, loud, “This time, you won’t need the pretty little golden trinket around your neck either. By the time the night is done, all you’ll have is pretty little scar right here.”

The alpha tapped the junction of his own neck and grinned. In control. Of everything. Soon he’d be in control of Hinata. And Hinata hated himself for giving in, he hated himself for not saying anything, but his body shook with fear and with rage and he didn’t trust his tongue. The promise of a hurt Oikawa and looming threat on his mind. The omega didn’t say a thing.

“No response? You’re learning. You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?”

Gods, it was demeaning. Yet he still didn’t speak. A tear he thought he didn’t have ran down his cheek.

“And good boys deserve rewards, don’t they?”

Hinata bit the inside of his cheek and sat up properly, leaning on the end of the bed. His neck stung, layers of skin, undoubtedly taken off. His vision was still bleary, but he could make out another shape behind Daishou, one whimpering and sniffling. Heart dropping, realising who it was, a few more tears slipped from his eyes. He could barely find the energy to reply, head throbbing, chest hurting, stomach rumbling, tears slipping down, down, down. The warmth of them on his cheeks were the only thing that grounded him.

There was so much anger. So much all-consuming anger.

So much… so much grief.

Daishou dragged the other omega by the collar around his neck, fingers looped around the o-ring protruding from the front, and dumped him in front of Hinata. The shell of the man that was Oikawa, didn’t even try and stand, crumpling immediately, legs askew, body entirely limp. The alpha squatted, pants hiking up to expose his ankles, his hands running along Oikawa’s back, “Be a good wife and clean him up will you? I can’t have him dirtying his new cage.”

It was only when the door shut that Hinata clambered forward on his hands and knees, to embrace the shivering, shaking form of Oikawa. He was wearing a translucent silk slip that barely covered anything, making him look like an abused wraith haunting dreams, or creating haunting memories. His legs and arms were covered with red welts, neck – with one bond mark looking almost infected with how raised it was against his skin – a field of dark purple hickeys, and the bare skin of his back and chest that Hinata could see were a horrible mix of the two, covered with a topping of bite marks – some indents, some open wounds, all that would leave psychological scars. Underneath the slip, he knew it would be worse, and he knew that there was no way Oikawa would be able to walk, not today, not tomorrow, not the day after that.

Gentle didn’t exist in Daishou’s vocabulary.

“Hey, hey, I’m here now. It’s just me. It’s just me. It’s just Shoyou.”

Hinata didn’t try and touch Oikawa, he knew the reaction that would garner, and he knew the spiral it would create. Instead, he did the only thing that he knew Daishou could never do, the one thing Oikawa loved more than anything but hated to admit. He began to card his fingers through the sweaty, limp hair, breaking apart the clumps that had been stuck together by fluids that shouldn’t’ve been there. Easing white globs from where ever they had stuck and working their way down to the ends of his hair and dislodging them, discarding them to the side with a flick. His hand and fingers felt gross, but Hinata’s comfort didn’t matter right now, all he focused on was the sounds of Oikawa’s distress, and the view of the omega’s chest rising evenly.

His temperature was dropping slowly, but he wasn’t cold. He wouldn’t drop – not just yet.

“It’s just Shoyou. I promise. You and me. I’m here now. Cry it all out. Imagine the tears are all the bad things he did to do. And just let it out. Your heat is over, you’re not that anymore. That’s not you. That’s just instincts. Instincts fucking suck, and they’re a part of you, but they don’t define you. You didn’t consent to any of this.”

Oikawa groaned, head pressing back into Hinata’s touch. And then as soon as his scalp grazed his fingers, the omega yanked away, smacking his head back down onto the floor. He didn’t even yell out in pain, just began to cry, “D-don’t t-touch me.”

His voice was hoarser than Hinata had ever heard it. And his stutter, his response to the emotional trauma he’d experienced, the tightening of his vocal cords as his body tried to shut itself in, his stutter, oh – Hinata nearly started crying again. It was something that he and Suga had speculated was an indoctrinate response, after being raised in a breeding circle, after being used and abused, his instinct was just to clam up and become the omega people wanted him to be. That is, that’s what his instincts were when he was in heat, when he was wanting someone and anyone to ease his pain. An instinct, a mindset that he struggled to break free from once it was over. In all his sass, and smarts, Suga and Hinata knew he hadn’t always been the talkative stirrer he was normally.

“D-don’t. Please.”

“I’m not him.” Hinata tried to consciously leak a scent that wasn’t angry, or sad, or flat-out terrified of the night to come. He needed to snap Oikawa out of the daze he was in. He needed to get Oikawa onto the bed, making the nest he was supposed to make the minute he went into heat, he needed to make sure his temperature was stable, and the room was as clear of the alpha’s scent as possible, “I’m Shoyou. This is Shoyou Hinata. I’m not Daishou. I’m not going to hurt you. Promise. I’m not him. I’m going to help you. Okay? We’re gonna get through this Tooru.”

Oikawa groaned again, but this time, it was of pain as he tried to move, clenching his abdomen to lift himself off the floor a bit. He wanted to see Shoyou’s face, he could hear the voice and it was Shoyou’s voice, but he’d heard so many voices over the past few days. Seen so many recordings. Heard his brother scream along with him as he was fucked. Heard Daishou’s poisonous voice spilling toxic waste into his brain, wrapped up in all the bells and whistles of sweet nothings. He remembered everything clearly – too clearly. Remembered being fed wine and drugs and aphrodisiacs that made his heat even worse, made him want to rip his skin off, between stints. Hazy hallucinations. Highs and lows. He was being hit with memories of the last five days all at once and his head throbbed. He just needed to prove that Hinata was real, but he couldn’t move.

“Sh-sh… Shoyou?”

“I’m here, Tooru.” Hinata’s voice was impossibly soft. Sad, and soft.

“S-sorry.” He couldn’t do it, all the tension leaked from his body as he slumped back onto the cold floor. Shivering. Trembling, “Sorry, s-sorry. I… I c-can’t.”

“No, no, no. It’s ok. You can, you can do anything you want to do. You’re so, so strong.”

Oikawa merely shifted, wanting touch from the omega – because now he knew it was Shoyou through and through – but so, so scared. He was disgusting, he shouldn’t be touched, he was tainted, in all the worst ways. And then shifting, he remembered the pain that was lingering in his body, he remembered the events that had caused them, and he whimpered, tears slipping from his eyes, catching on his closed eyelashes and splashing onto the cold floor, “I-I m’not.”

“Shh, don’t let him get to you. You are. You are.” Hinata noticed his trembling and his fidgeting, and moving closer, but not enough to frighten (they’ve been in this situation before, and it’s nearly scary how well they know each other’s boundaries), stretched out his hand slowly and put the pad of his forefinger to Oikawa’s forehead, “I’m right here. Feel my finger? It’s right here. Far away from the places he hurt you.”

Daishou liked his omegas face to be kept in clean condition – the only part of the body they couldn’t swathe in clothing to hide it.

“I’m going to move my fingers through your hair okay?” Hinata waited until the pressure increased on his finger, Oikawa nudging him – the slow movement of his head the only thing that wouldn’t hurt him. He made it clear, as clear as the unbarred windows, that he wanted consent. True proper consent. And Hinata knew Oikawa was thankful for it. Slowly, attempting to be unthreatening, he brought his other fingers down to gently rest on Oikawa’s sticky forehead, then slowly drew them back towards his hairline. Gingerly, so that every now and then they would disconnect for the briefest of seconds, and then come and rest back down. Feather-like. And he began to threat his fingers through the strands. It was getting longer. It was still clumping together, but he merely looked past the dried cum and continued to try and console Oikawa.

The next half hour was integral in the process of bringing him slowly out of his heat. It had broken, yes, but the hunched omega was still fighting his instincts. They remained on the floor, Shoyou with a bit more movement in the slack chain, deliberately taking his time in getting Oikawa to open up to touch. He wanted to get him on the bed so bad – he needed to nest. But he was too scared to lean in to Hinata’s touch. It took the latter a while, the half hour eaten up by whimpers as Hinata enveloped the other with his scent, pressing lightly and then firmly to Oikawa’s chest, alternating between the two, undoubtedly pressing down on some bruises, but also showing the omega that Hinata wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

Warm hand on a cooling (that was concerning to Hinata) body, pressure enough to feel like a weighted blanket, Oikawa longed to nest. His omega wanted to do it. He had to do it. He had to prove that he was still good.

His body wouldn’t let him speak.

No one had ever wanted to listen to him speak.

Daishou said he was too loud, too rude, too mean, too un-omegan. He moaned too loud, he sounded like a common street whore.

His head was throbbing. Despite his heat being over his body still felt like one massive live wire. Or as if someone had flogged a dead horse and then reanimated it. He was so, so tired. And he was so, so, so fucking dirty. Inside and out. His body was covered in cum, his hole felt abused and sore and thought he knew it hadn’t ripped, he could practically feel the redness, feel the heat, his face had flecks of the alpha’s claim that Hinata had taken upon himself to peel off, his hair oily and uncared for. But that was only the physical. It felt worse, knowing that for the three and a bit days he spent under the influence of his omega (as Suga had once jokingly called heats, before Hinata had groaned and then tackled him into their nest) he’d wanted it. He had wanted everything that had happened to him. He’d begged Daishou to mark him, to knot him. He’d parroted every harsh insult right back; he’d said horrible things about everyone he loved just because the alpha said so and he had felt proud about it. He had felt proud to be used as a plaything. He had felt happy.

Now he just felt sick.

He just wanted it to stop.

Everything.

“Hey, do you reckon we can try and sit you up? I want to get onto the bed –“ Oikawa visibly recoiled and Hinata hastened to rectify the horrible, horrible mistake he just made, “To nest! I want to nest with you. Only if you want to though.”

The omega didn’t speak. If he did he’d only stutter, he’d only look more pathetic than he already felt. He didn’t deserve any of this, Hinata could do so much better than him, he didn’t deserve Hinata’s care and affection. He was broken. His body was broken. He didn’t know how to form the words.

And yet, somehow Hinata thought he deserved it, because the next thing Oikawa knew, the other omega was seemingly reading his mind and carding his fingers through his hair again and leaning close to him, other hand outlining circles and triangles and squares on his back and he was saying – “Don’t try and force yourself to talk. It’s ok to take it slow. We don’t even have to move if you don’t want to. So…, just so I can know, if you want to nest press back and if –“ Hinata was cut off by Oikawa pressing back his head into his hand. His voice shook, “Right. Well, we need to move and –“

Oikawa whined, vocal cords pressing together to create a whine only he could make, and then his mouth opened in a silent scream, it’s meaning dreadfully clear to Hinata. He’d just keened, again. Unintentionally, calling for his alpha to comfort him, as pain undoubtedly exploded over his body. Hinata merely wrapped his arms fully around Oikawa, trying to forget the heavy weight of the collar against his neck, tears running their old tracks fresh down his face.

They needed to nest. They didn’t need Daishou –

“C’mon.”

Oikawa couldn’t put weight on either of his feet without his knees failing and legs buckling –  entirely weak. His back throbbed, and his arsehole felt like it was on fire, but he tried to comply with Hinata, hands scrambling against the bedsheets, the dents of the mattress cover, trying to find some sort of purchase to hoist himself up. They did it with pain. With a great deal of difficulty. But they did it.

“Ok, here are some pillows and cushions, do you feel strong enough to make a little nest for us?” Hinata sat beside where Oikawa lay, sprawled but trying to curl up again – stretched muscles aching, begging for a moment of peace. The omega’s body shuddered as he breathed in, one long breath. That was good, he was practicing the self-regulation techniques Suga had taught them, the ones that would help them with their thoughts and their breathing.

“Y-y-yeah.”

Hinata smiled at Oikawa’s voice and slowly moving his hand in front of his face to catch his gaze, drifted his hand to the shoulder, those beautiful ringed eyes following. Hinata traced a circle over the protruding bones, skin sunken slightly. He doubted Daishou had allowed Oikawa to replenish his energy in between waves of heat. It had been four days since they’d both eaten. He tried not to think about that.

“I’m going to open a window, and then I’m going to try and find some blankets okay? I won’t be gone long, but if you need more touch all you have to do is whine. Like you normally do, alright?” Hinata felt his stomach turn, at Oikawa’s panicked, stricken look when he moved away slightly, hands leaving him. He’d gone from hating touch, to not being able to function without it. Hinata’s heart ached.

Adjusting his collar, he slipped from the bed, lace falling softly to the floor behind him in contrast to the clanging of the chain. Opened the window, allowed the strong sea breeze to flush out the room of the scent that was probably clogging Oikawa’s nose and making the air feel heavy and muggy. Hinata could smell the difference in freshness – in temperature. But that was in the quiet sting of the cold against his nose, so it didn’t really count.

Together they made a nest, Oikawa making a somewhat contented noise in the back of his throat when it was completed. It was an odd ovular looking thing, and in the raised rectangular bed that was so obviously not designed for a long-term omegan stay – it looked plenty subpar. That and the scratchy blankets that were too thin and the pillows and cushions that were too hard, but Oikawa had already begun to weakly scent some, so Hinata swallowed his pride and settled in next to him, trying not to overdo the touch, but needing something to ground him. Making nests had always been something he was particularly fond of doing, the same way Oikawa took pride in being someone who could always make Suga laugh, and Suga took great joy in being able to calm everyone down with a few well-placed words and a long, lengthy hug. Hinata leant into Oikawa’s warm embrace, allowing him to be the big spoon.

He could feel the movement of the other’s Adams apple, and pulling back – keeping his arms tangled with Oikawa’s (with consent of course and making sure that Oikawa was very much okay with their position), he stared into Oikawa’s sad, anguished eyes, “I’m so sorry Tooru, I’m so sorry this had to happen to you again. Do you want to talk about it? Talk about feelings?”

“I hate it.” The words spilled from Oikawa’s mouth after a few moments of mindless movement. He was crying again, fingernails digging into Hinata’s forearms, and when they didn’t, they were digging into his own, already beaten body. Hinata peeled Oikawa’s hand from his stomach where he scratched and place it on Hinata’s arm, allowing the other to inflict pain on him instead of inflicting it upon himself, “I hate m-myself, and m-my stup.. stupid fu-fucking s-stutter.”

“It’s not –“

“I d-don’t d-des-d–“ He stopped, the words lodged in his throat, frantically swallowing, mouth opening and closing and unable to find the – like a disconnect, or something – he couldn’t – it hurt, and he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to feel this way. He didn’t want to be in pain. He didn’t want the pity, or the love. He didn’t deserve any of this. Hate. He hated himself. Weak. Pitiful. Pathetic. A shit human and a shit omega, “I..I-I’m n-not sup–“

Oikawa stopped.

He was choking.

He wanted to tell Hinata, wanted to – but he was flailing in an ocean of emotions.

Just as he had done five days ago, Hinata did now – pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For a second all his alarms flared, all his warning bells went off, his vision flashed white in hot, streaking, screaming fear but then a split half-second later the smell invaded his senses. An overwhelming spice that in his trauma reminded him of the pepper, but it shifted as suddenly as that thought arrived and he found himself drowning in the sweet ginger smell. Drowning wouldn’t be so bad if he was able to choke on this scent. On these lips.

It remained a closed-lip kiss, Hinata not wanting to go any further than that – knowing Oikawa’s fears, knowing he had to accommodate for them. And he would. Fuck, he would do it any day of the week, any day of the year. He’d bend over backwards for him if he had to. He would do anything. So, he pulled back, and took Oikawa’s face gently in his hands leaving space for him to pull back if necessary, if uncomfortable.

“Take as much time as you need. As long as I have breath in my lungs I’m going make sure there’s breath in yours. I promise. You deserve the world. You deserve so much more than what that bastard has given you.”

Oikawa wasn’t choking. He was sobbing – again. Fat tears rolled across his face, the ones from his right eyes dripping over the bridge of his nose. Somehow, from somewhere, he found the energy within himself to wrap his arms around Hinata and drew him in even closer. His scent surrounded him immediately, even if it was sad and not comforting – because his scent was always so open and honest and Hinata only had the most basic of controls over it – it still felt like a weighted blanket for his soul.

“I…” He took a deep breath, remembering what Suga had taught them about these exercises, and tried to unclog his throat, slim down his tongue from where it sat fat and dry in his drier mouth, “I-I’m not supposed t-to be... b-be a-alive. I… I was s-supposed t-to be st-still… st-still.. fuck… st-still-born.”

He forced the rest of the word from his mouth. Took another deep, shuddering breath, “B-been called a fr-freak sin…since b-b-birth.”

“You’re not a freak. You’re a goddamn miracle. You’re a fucking miracle.”

“I’m n-not. I’ve n-never be-been g-goo-g… g-good enough f-for –“ Oikawa clutching the blankets of the nest desperately trying to stop his tears and his sobs and the knife that was buried in his chest and piercing ever deeper, “f-for any-anyone. I’m s-so stupid. P-pathetic. I c-could – couldn’t s-say n-n…no. I’m dirty.”

“No, no, Kawa, you’re not dirty at all. You’re not pathetic. You’re the light of my life. You saved me; you know that?” Hinata clasped Oikawa’s hands, tracing patterns gently over bitten nails and torn skin – most likely from desperately trying to ground himself while he was getting abused, “The day you arrived I was thinking of killing myself. Both my parents died, Daishou had begun to disregard boundaries – all of them, and I couldn’t tell anyone or get any help because even though we were courting, by law he was technically my alpha. But then you arrived. You gave me something to look forward too. You gave me hope. You were my miracle Tooru.”

Hinata brought each one of Oikawa’s fingers to his mouth and kissed them, not matter how much Oikawa tried to pull them away, saying they were dirty. They were, but Hinata would do anything to profess his undying love for the man, his unwavering stance beside him – as someone to guard his flank as the omega strode out into the world, “You’ve saved so many people. Remember those pups the other night? When I cut out that man’s tongue? While I was off being selfish, you were the one unlocking the first cage and checking to see if the pups were ok, guiding them to the back of the van. That was all you. You’ve saved so many other omegas that could’ve ended up in the same position you were in. You were their miracles. I bet if you were to ask Nishinoya he’d say the exact same thing. You are special. You deserve the world.”

“I c-cou…couldn’t st-stop it. I-I… I s-said horrible th-things ‘b-bout y-you.”

“You were doing what you could to stay alive.”

“B-but I… I meant it. I m-meant it.”

“Everything?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then I guess I have no choice but to forgive you.” Hinata smiled, small and soft, and it widened when he saw it reflected in Oikawa – the first sort of positive expression he’d seen since the omega’s arrival, “I love you so, so much Tooru. Nothing you could ever do, ever say will ever change that. No matter how many heats you go through, no matter what Daishou forces you to do, ever. Ever Tooru. No matter what. I will always, always, always love you.”

Oikawa’s crying, and Hinata doesn’t need to be able to smell to know that they’re happy tears, relieved, overwhelmed. He could see the soft smile, could smile it himself and wipe whatever tears that fall from Oikawa’s eyes as many times as he needs to.

“I love –“

There was no end to the sentence, because Oikawa was suddenly launching himself into a sitting position – hissing in pain and in the general direction of the door, and his arms had curled tight around Hinata – tight. In his hazy, post-heat, spiralling mind something cut straight to the core, the only thing that he fears more than he hates himself. Pressing himself against the headboard, clutching a squirming Hinata in his arms – Oikawa began to snarl, protective instincts covering the fear laced into every fibre of his being, protective against the devil down the hall.

Daishou flung open the door.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH.” He strode across the room, dress shoes clacking, fist raised, pointer finger honed in on Oikawa’s screwed up face. The alpha’s face was contorted in fury, and Hinata wrapped his arms back around Oikawa – the collar growing hot on his shoulders. Both omegas whimpered, despite their attempts at seeming intimidating, “You little fucking slut, calling your other bloody mates here? You think that’s okay? I DIDN’T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO DO THAT. DO YOU WANT ME TO REMIND YOU HOW MUCH CONTROL I HAVE OVER YOU, YOU CHEAP FUCKING SLUT? I’ll have you sit all dumb and pretty while my anaconda chokes you to death. You’d fucking get off on it wouldn’t you.”

“N-n…n…no” Oikawa gasped, fresh tears. So many tears. It was so wrong, he hated it, he hated everything, he felt so weak. He couldn’t do anything to the alpha. He physically couldn’t harm the alpha. His bond mark was throbbing with growing insistence. He felt the pain echoing and aching and all the memories – like he was getting stabbed again and again – like someone was smothering all his senses – he shook, his body trembling. He was so, so scared.

“Well, that’s what I’m fucking going to do, the minute after I bond my wife. I’m gonna strangle you to fucking death. It’s because of you and your whorish attitude that I have a fucking entire police unit coming this way right now! Because of you! And YOU.” Daishou wheeled on Hinata, who was making a noise somewhere between a whimper and growl, and coming out as some sort of choked snarl. The alpha clambered onto the bed, and using his, not necessarily superior, but stronger upper body strength, ripped Oikawa’s hold apart and pulled Hinata off the other. Hinata immediately lashed out, but Daishou’s hand had gone to his chain and he pulled on it, causing a sharp yelp to erupt from the omega, air cut off as his head jerked back, “Your fucking brother is heading the unit. Announced it to the world. He’s coming to get you, aren’t you happy.”

Daishou’s hand found its way under the lace.

“Too bad.”

His hand was creeping up Hinata’s leg. The collar was still choking the omega, who was spasming and kicking and hitting – trying to find a way, any way to give him air. Oikawa merely sat, hindered by his pain, his fear, and Daishou’s command to stay still and watch. He couldn’t lay a hand on the alpha – even if he wanted to. And the hand, large, probing, groping, continue to creep steadily up, past the folds of lace, past the layers of the petticoats that spread Hinata’s dress so it floated around him.

Just up.

“He’s going to be too late.”

Hinata was screaming.

“STOP! No, no, NO!”

Oikawa was sobbing.

“Don’t! Daishou. No, please. Please. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

And the alpha was pulling the lace dress up to expose the cream thighs, and his hold on the chain had dropped and the omega was gasping and screaming and begging, and was struggling to wriggle further back on the bed. Except he couldn’t, because his head of orange hair was pushed up against the headboard, and Oikawa was literally curled up in the little that remained of their violated nest eyes wide and sobbing, and looking completely and totally in shock. Frozen in fear. Frozen in something that Hinata didn’t have time to decipher, because Daishou had begun to remove his underwear, cold hands feeling warm flesh.

A sense of urgency flashed threw him as he realised what was about to happen.

The agenda for that night had been pushed forward.

Daishou was going to knot him here and now. Bond with him, here and now.

And there was no fucking way that was happening without a fight, no matter how hungry, how weak, how utterly sore and tired Hinata felt, there was no way he wouldn’t do his absolute worse to the alpha. Hinata began to kick – purposefully, with his one free leg, the other trapped beneath the alpha’s body remaining limp. There was no way he could remove the crushing mass of alpha; it would be best to conserve energy. And with his hands, he began to claw at Daishou’s face, mouth working hard to produce enough spit to follow through with the one action (among many others) he’d been dying to do for the past eight years.

“AHH! YOU SICK – FUCK – SON OF A BITCH!” He screamed out, hands pulling at Daishou’s chin and cheeks as the alpha’s hands groped his genitals. Hard. Tears fell from his eyes and he banged his head against the headboard. Hard. He could feel skin tear, and hear the alpha’s hiss, his fingers digging in. Hinata thrashed, hands not letting go, pain jolting up his body.

“You’re going to regret fighting me wife.”

“Fuck you and all you stand for.” Hinata huffed, venom – worse than any of snakes in the godforsaken house – dripping from his tone, “I have no –“ He jostled Daishou again, aiming a kick to his nuts but getting only the upper thigh. He still dug in his heel –“fucking –“ His hand clawed at Daishou’s short hair, sharp nail nicking blood from the ear –“regrets with what –“ He kicked again, and Daishou pinned his other leg, one hand removing itself from his sensitive areas –“I’m about to fucking do.”

And then Hinata gathered all the spit in his mouth.

And spat.

The wad hit Daishou fair in the face.

Everything was silent for a second. Everybody stilled. And then Daishou’s face twisted into an expression of glowering fury. His fingers found the scar hidden beneath Hinata’s dress and dug, dug in until he was sure the scar tissue would be accessorised by purple flowers tomorrow, and opening his mouth – showed both the omegas the extending of his fangs. Hinata screamed. Panic overrode his systems, his sense, his rational reasoning and brain.

“No. NO. YOU BASTARD. DON’T – AHHH! I CAN’T, PLEASE. DON’T TOUCH ME! GET OFF. I can’t. You can’t. No. No. You – SHIT DAISHOU DON’T.”

Writhing on the bed. Fighting both Daishou and his instincts to protect his unmarked neck. Hands everywhere. Lace ripping under the force. Neck aching, collar coming undone under the alpha’s fingers. Legs struggling under his heavy weight. Thrashing as best the omega could. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

But it was for naught, the alpha was stronger. Hinata hadn’t eaten, had been given pitiful amounts of water, was weakened by his circumstances. It was a struggle, but ultimately easy for the alpha to overcome him. Daishou’s hands was pressing his head into the hard pillow, body laid directly on top of his struggling legs and wriggling torso, the other hand pinning his hands to the headboard.

Oikawa had been watching on before, hands up to his eyes, whole body protesting and screaming in pain. His heart was welling up, and his head was hurting, and memories were flashing in front of his eyes, lining up each action to something he himself had experienced. And he couldn’t breathe, and Hinata was hurt, and he couldn’t help and it was his mate, and he should have some say but he’s nothing more than a pathetic purebred and – and – WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. More alphas, the scent of someone he would never forget was beginning to frost the air. There were more alphas coming. More alphas. More – he began to hyperventilate. More. No. Hinata. No, he couldn’t let Hinata – no. What? Why was? His eyes focused on the struggle, for the first time really, his brain processing the view in front of him.

All he needed to see was the fangs bearing down on his packmate’s neck.

Oikawa threw himself at Daishou.

His bond mark exploded with pain, the omega ignoring several passive commands. His body screamed at him for moving. His heart thudded a thousand times faster. His lungs forgot to breathe. His hands pushed against hard muscle. His eyes bored into the shocked alpha’s. His legs lost their grip against slipper bedsheets. His arms shook as he repeatedly threw himself at the alpha. Everything hurt. Everything inside was cracking and breaking. He wouldn’t let Hinata go through what he had to. Never. Over his dead body.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Which may be an image that realised itself sooner rather than later.

He wanted to scream at the alpha, but the look in his eyes, the fear in Oikawa’s heart, the overwhelming sensation of wrongness, the memories, had his throat closing over again. The throat which Daishou’s hand went for, the minute those words left his mouth.

Hinata saw red. He heard the words. He saw the long fingers and cold hands wrap around Oikawa’s neck. And he saw nothing but red.

For the first time in eight years his fangs extended.

For the first time since he lost his unborn child he felt his inner omega beg to released.

For the first time since Suga, Oikawa and himself made the blood oath, he felt the strings that tied him to his brothers strengthen, even further.

And Hinata went ballistic.

With his hands now free, with his packmate turning red in the face beside him, struggling limply, they grabbed the first thing his eyes landed on. Which surprisingly, wasn’t Daishou. Instead, they closed around the black obsidian chunks on the bedside table. They were a decorative piece with no function, but everything was made with a purpose in mind, and Hinata’s was as strong-willed and single tracked as they came.

Fangs extended, small but razor-sharp things that were flecked red with the regrowth of the gums they’d had to pierce, his omega crying out in pain for his packmate, rage flooding his brain, growling with a might that should have been impossible – Hinata lifted the obsidian above his head.

And slammed it down onto Daishou’s.

The rock splintered in his hands but it had done its job well.

The alpha’s hands released Oikawa to clutch at his head. Red tainting everything it touched, hair matting to his head. He fell back on the bed momentarily stunned, pain ricocheting off the inside of his brain. Hinata knew he had to be at least partially concussed. Immediately freed from the suffocating weight as the alpha shifted, he crawled across the bed to where Oikawa was gasping for breath.

“Tooru, Tooru, you here. C’mon.” Hinata was too buzzed on adrenalin and whatever unregulated hormones his inner omega was excited to be pumping around his body, to do anything more that pat him consolingly, pulling the omega to wrap his trembling arms around Hinata’s torso. A storm was raging in his body, and as soon as he turned away from Oikawa, certain that he was going to remain breathing for a good while, he directed the force of nature on Daishou.

“You – you –“ His voice was shaking, Daishou was glaring at him, eyes going in and out of focus, blurring over. Hinata knew he didn’t have long, but he didn’t need extra time. He’d nearly been fucking raped and bonded by his godforsaken husband, his brother had nearly been fucking strangled to death on the alpha’s cold hands, he wasn’t going to give this guy the fucking time.

In a very cold, very measured tone, five words spilled into the air, “I’m going to kill you.”

It was different from the blind rage and hot, hot anger. It was cold, icy like the breeze that swept off the rough seas. Unforgiving, determined, wholly territorial and wholly convinced of his cause. Neither Oikawa nor Daishou doubted for one second that Hinata wouldn’t go back on his word. 

Grabbing onto one of the black splinters of rock, Hinata raised it threateningly, Daishou hesitantly doing the same, anger rushing back to flood his already flushed features, blooding oozing from his head wound.

And just as they were about to lunge for each other’s necks, each for the kill – the door slammed open once more.

•••

The door to the office slammed open, for the umpteenth time that morning, Yaku stalking in again, indignant and smoking from the ears. His black uniform was rumpled, the papers in his hands were scrunched, and the rest of the office watched as the short man stalked across the room and fully impaled the wall as he pinned the papers up. Peaking from the cuffs of his uniform, the Officers sitting at their desks could see the first hints of a tattoo – of what, Yaku hadn’t yet revealed. (Though Inuoka had been quick to mutter to a curious looking Kyoutani that according to Lev it was a sleeve, reaching all the way up to his armpits, and that not even the Nekoma Detective Unit had seen it – even in the summer Yaku would wear compression sleeves over it.), “If anyone wants to use that goddamn printer, do it your fucking self. This is the last time I’m having y’all use me as a fucking gopher.” He kicked the very same chair he then sat down in, grumbling as he watched his mate work, “Stupid technology.”

There was no gender bias in the precinct (despite the obvious lack of omegas – that was the system, not the station’s fault), so the placement of Yaku watching on as Lev was first deemed unusual by the Karasuno unit – at first, almost scandalous (they shuddered to think of what the Corvids might do). Lev had begun to graciously soothe over that Yaku was their best field operative – from stealth to strength, and Yaku had butted in and said that, he’d never fucking felt the need to learn anything past the basic functions on the computer, and that technology could suck his pirate dick.

He spun in his chair, slowly, pointed out a typo in Lev’s search in the database, pointed out another typo, and eyes widening nearly knocked over a trashcan in his haste to get to the wall where everything was pinned. Eyes peeking over privacy partitions, watched him go.

“Shoyou Hinata’s mother went missing when he was ten. Sixteen years ago. Two months after Lord Hinata’s body was recovered. Given the nature of her language barrier, her ethnicity, and her status… Lord Hinata had a lot of enemies, right?” Yaku stood in front of the wall, staring at one particular newspaper clipping nearly overshadowed by the rest.

“Aren’t we supposed to be finding Nobles that might be relating to the appearance of Crow? Fukunaga pointed out, gesturing chopsticks still wet from the broth of the noodles in front of him. Yamamoto and Inuoka, from where they were thumbing a thin stack of claims made against Lord Nohebi, stopped and focused their attention on their co-workers.

“Yeah, but something’s rubbing me the wrong way about the timing of this. Shoyou said he had a sister right? It was under the notes for him, is this true?”

Asahi, engrossed in cataloguing the various injuries he’d found on the dead hostages, perked up, quick to affirm, “Mm, yeah, she was young – barely an adult. Glaring family resemblance. Same hair, same eyes.”

“How old did she look?”

“Pardon?”

Yaku’s eye twitched, and he began to tap his foot insistently on the floor, “I mean the age gap? Did it look around ten years?”

“I…” Asahi paused, knowing the question was directed at him and not the other officers that had gotten a glimpse of the girl, “I mean, she could’ve been. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Lady Hinata wasn’t noticeably pregnant when she went missing, but given how long the Lord was at sea for…” Taking ‘care’ of my people, Yaku met Lev’s eyes across the rooms, the unspoken words heard only by them. The bond was strong enough for Lev to feel every hint of the bittersweetness permeating his heart. Sweet in the memories, bitter in all the deaths Yaku had seen. And he had only been seventeen at the time, watching his crewmates fall. He shook himself mentally, “…she would’ve been at least four months along. And Hinata inherited his looks from his father…”

“Are you implying that a female omega, pregnant – wait, what was listed on that report?” Asahi stood from his desk, his chair clattering behind him. Kyoutani growled, taking an earphone out and shaking his head judgingly at the loud noise. Tsukishima also looked up from his work, removing his nearly obnoxiously large soundproof headphones.

“For fucks sake, have your epiphanies a bit quieter.”

“Okay and oh! Tsukki, do you have the missing person’s report for Lady Hinata?” Asahi looked over the partition at an exasperated looking Tsukishima.

“Do you assume, just because I’m the chief informant and data collector for the unit I just have every single file pertinent to the case on tap?” He snapped, bitter that his research had gotten interrupted. Fukunaga hid behind his chopsticks, trying to stifle his laugh, and both Yamamoto and Kyoutani rolled their eyes at the quip.

“Well do you?”

“…Yeah, fine.” Tsukishima’s glasses reflected the white background of his screen, the mechanical whir of his mouse as he scrolled through some files. Every now and then his gaze would lift to a separate monitor of his, but then it would rest back down on his main one, accompanying varying clicks and clacks of his fingers against the keys. It was quiet for a moment, then, “What do you want to know about it?”

“What was the cause listed as?” Asahi seemed antsy, and Yaku had fully turned to give Tsukishima his full attention tapping his foot and his chin in thought.

“It’s listed as ‘missing’, unable to handle the language barrier and her husband’s death they speculated running away, then confirmed it when they began to find an abundance of spider lilies in the postal rooms of the mansion, left behind by maids and concierges. Spider lilies of course, symbolising death.” Tsukishima read off the screen, eyes flicking between words. Then, from beside him where Kyoutani’s desk was set up (a much different set, with a lot less monitors and a lot more photos and notes about various gangs – seeing as he was an undercover agent for quite some time), the other alpha noticed his face going strangely pale, his expression turning slightly strangled. Whatever he read off the screen next, his voice sounded a whole lot less robotic, and a whole lot more shocked, “There was an update to the file. An anonymous tipper found her body six years ago. A single bullet wound to the shoulder, cause of death; bleeding out.”

“Your memory is mine.” Everyone whispered at the same time, hushed voices acknowledging the loss of life, and the pain Hinata must’ve felt – if he even knew. Yaku silently added that task to the whiteboard, adding it underneath Daichi’s smudging words Inform Hinata of his mother’s death (over the missing status).

“Asahi, what were you going to say about the cause?” Yaku capped the whiteboard marker and shifted his and the few watchers on attention back to the omegan medical expert.

“Pregnant omegas are extremely territorial, extremely sensitive and often, beginning in the latter half of the first trimester, show strong nesting tendencies. In other words, if we are right and Hinata’s sister is exactly he says she is, and Lady Hinata was pregnant, there would be no way she would actively choose to run away. Moving an omega in heat is dangerous enough, moving an omega whose main goal is to create a safe space for them and their unborn child is suicidal for whoever’s trying to move them.” Asahi spread his hands on the desk, like a nervous tick, trying not to think about how he was addressing an omega, trying to stay professional. The other looked somewhat pleased at the lack of sugar coating. Asahi was glad he’d read the room correctly, letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“On that basis, and the number of enemies Lord Hinata undoubtedly had,” Yaku huffed slightly, an amused laugh that was too short to be classified as such. Kyoutani deciphered it deftly, been on the receiving end of one of those laughs and the instigator many, many times. Plain and simple Yaku had been one of those enemies. And knowing what he knew of the Lord – House Hinata was infamous back in the day, more so than Kuroo’s tabloid frequenting Mother – he couldn’t help but respect the omega, “it would be safe to say that Lady Hinata was actually taken.”

“Hostage?"

Yaku lifted a shoulder, “Given her looks – from what I can remember at least, she was most likely taken to be some sort of trophy for one of Lord Hinata’s enemies, and as Shoyou was an omega, probably produce an alphan heir to usurp his claim to the inheritance and company.”

The omega scratched at his arm, the one where black peeked from the cuff, the one where the compression sleeve lay hidden, “I don’t know if you are aware Officer Asahi, but Lord Hinata had an impressive fleet of ships.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, aside from the sounds of Fukunaga’s chopsticks occasionally clicking on the edge of his bowl. The entire Nekoma unit didn’t notice it, having already accepted that aspect of their co-worker and friend, but those who were paying attention in the Karasuno unit did.

Yaku clapped his hands together, “Well, that being said and done, and your face being fucking red as hell Officer Asahi, I’m going to ask Lev to help me track down some of my old contacts that might’ve had a grudge against the Lord. Old family members and the like.” With a shit eating grin, he spun on his heel and stalked back across the room, whacking Lev on the upside of the head to get his attention on the way and then sitting back down beside him, slid his hand between the seat and the alphas lower – nope, Asahi turned his spinney office chair back around and returned to cataloguing the wounds of the hostages, the actually real quite dead hostages the Corvids had had.

Tsukishima having kept his headphones off for the rest of that conversation – he dealt in information, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to learn about the former pirate and the elusive noble with a tragic backstory. And yet, with all that he’d learnt (which was interesting, albeit not a lot), there was one phrase that shouted in his cluttered mind, manually turning the gears until all he could hear were the clacking of his thoughts together – old family members.

Old family members.

He slipped his headphones back on, pressing down on the play button of his keyboard and let the heavy bass and rhythmic flow of the electronic music hit him like a freight train, dampening his thoughts for only a moment so he could wrestle them back under control.

Old family members.

Kei focused in on the files he’d been perusing for Asahi, then tilted his head to look at his second monitor – where the file for Chikara Ennoshita and Tadashi Yamaguchi were staring back at him blankly.

Old family members.

Later he would say it hit him suddenly, but the bubble had been building for quite some time and only just burst as he wondered if the members of the Corvids that had escaped a few nights ago had fallen back to contacts of the past. There was a high possibility of that, seeing as they had had very little time to prepare and even if there was a grand network of Found’s willing to take them in and house them, Kei was sure at least some notice had to have been given. He was certain, in all his psychological studies of human behaviour, that the panicked omegas would have fallen back on someone, at least one of them fully trusted.

So he began his search, typing his findings and speculations into a separate document on his third and final monitor (Daichi had said no to him bringing in his fourth, and his fifth), hands moving at ungodly speeds as he searched old files and the databases to try and find matches.

For Ennoshita, it was easy. Too easy. Two adoptive brothers, both older alphan males, co-owners of Tigers Tattoos. Blatant connection. 

[ …Page 1: #20]

It would be unwise for the suspects to find housing with Ennoshita ’s adoptive family given the blatant nature of their careers and relationships with each other. Whilst well-known, the reputation that gleans contacts exposes them to potential risks of being found by [the police].

Tattoo parlours whilst having needles and swabs on hand, have no foreseeable benefit for those that are wounded as Corvid member Tadashi Yamaguchi was at the time of withdrawal.  

[ …Page 1: #21]

Speculation: Would Kenma join the Corvids?

• Need to ask Asahi about pack dynamics.
• Would there be a pack bond between Kenma and the rest of the Corvid gang, if so how strong? 

Tsukishima paused, mouse skimming over the sunken face of Tadashi that he had in the police report, eyes shying away from the camera. It wasn’t a mugshot – because they hadn’t been able to take him in for long enough. It was a childhood photo, one where he still was a pup, still had that – no actually, it didn’t look like he had any baby fat still on his bones. Eyes sunken, cheeks hollowed, cheekbones strangely, oddly accentuated. Deep dark eye bags, making the dull hazel pop. Freckles stark against nearly translucent skin, veins too obvious.

Tadashi looked like the walking dead.

Old family members.

The police report didn’t contain any family testimonials seeing as… well, their corpses were the cause for the police, but it contain their names. Somewhere. Tsukishima scrolled down, cursing at the odd formatting of the old system, and his eyes scanning the pages of the pdf soon found himself on a page he’d never seen before. Odd. But okay, he could work with this.

The pictures of the corpses – of Tadashi’s parents (Tsukishima still couldn’t get over that, still couldn’t get the puzzle pieces to fit together) – were not gruesome, not by any stretch. Bodies bled out, hole in their chest, red splodges radiating out from the epicentre. He double clicked on the image in the file, drawing it up in a separate larger tab. He pulled it to full screen, then turning to his other monitor drew up one of his go-to simulations from one of his university courses.

The simulation was of the human body, layering different layers of the anatomy, different systems. That was its most basic function. What made it so useful was the 3D rendering and interactive aspect, allowing him to manipulate the body as he wished, to the position he wished, from the perspective he wished.

It didn’t take long, given how familiar he was with the system already.

He compared the image to the simulation. He looked at the blood splatter in the pictures, and the pooling on the clothes. The close-up image of the entry wound. Tsukishima calculated the trajectory. He compared the image to the simulation again, armed with new knowledge.

The bullet had gone straight through the middle of his father’s heart, straight through the middle of his mother’s.

Damn.

It didn’t look like his first-time shooting, and if he recalled correctly, ‘I first picked up a gun when I was seven’ – it hadn’t been.

Wait, what was I doing? Tsukkishima pushed his glass up a bit and rubbed his eyes before settling them back down on his face, feeling them protest under the weight of his headphones.

Old family members.

And then he remembered, quickly minimising the window with the simulation on it, closing all the tabs with the images still full screen – removing corpses and gunshot wounds from his sight. He’d gotten distracted marvelling at Tadashi’s handiwork. He thought he stopped getting distracted years ago, when all it took was a pre – no, there he was again, letting his thoughts drift off. He had to be productive. Had to actually get closer to finding the gang, to finding Tadashi, to knowing the truth. (He actually had to go his bloody job).

Under the photos, each corpse was captioned with date of death, estimated time of death in 24-hour time and a bracketed number of hours between that the time of the photo, as well as – ah, here they were – the name of the Jane and John Doe respectively.

The names looked oddly familiar.

Really familiar.

Disturbingly so.

Tsukkishima turned to his folder of cases he’d cracked. Cold cases that he’d picked up after other less competent men had swept them to the side. This folder, blue little icon glaring up at him held a plethora of more files, something that even if he spent all day on would not divulge its deepest secrets. Pandora’s box, a few of his university classmates (the few that had seen his set up of monitors in the bachelor house) had called it. But it was not, because he knew where everything was, and how to get it in a manner of minutes. Double click, sound barely registering over the highs and lows of the music reverberating through his body, the file opened to reveal thousands more, each labelled and sorted.

His mind wandered to the conversation he had had with Yamaguchi.

“…before my parents uh … took me back. ”

“Debt … loan sharks … people were forcing him to do shit he didn ’t want to do …he rose in their ranks. ”

“didn ’t suffer through years of physical, mental and psychological abuse to be talked down to like that. My parents didn ’t give a shit about me, ever since I presented as an omega they viewed me as an object that they could get money with. ”

Tsukishima subconsciously hissed.

And opened the advanced search bar he’d programmed into the filing system to type one word.

[ Trafficking ]

He had ten results pop up, five a folder for their own respective case, five more a folder for research, simulations, diagnostic textbooks, maps of routes taken over the last two hundred years, and lists of known trafficking organisations and other cases in other countries.

Tsukkishima rubbed at his eyes again, pulling his glasses forward and his headphones off. Leaned back, stretched, leaned forward, glared at the screen then stood up. It was time for a break – getting lost in one’s head never bode well for productivity.

Exactly seven minutes later he was palming over a travel mug of coffee to Kyoutani (going to check Tanaka out of hospital after being forced to rest extensively after getting shot at a, quote, ‘insane angle’), setting down another on Asahi’s desk, yet another next to Fukunaga’s now empty bowl and striding back to the break room to get the rest of the coffee’s people had pinned on him. He didn’t mind, but he did glare when Lev began to complain about how hot it was. Yaku was quick to shut him up, and Tsukishima would’ve been thankful, if it hadn’t instigated their prompt exit of the room, leaving horrifying sounds to echo up and down the halls.

“You get used to it.” Yamamoto didn’t even blink.

“I don’t want to get used to it.” Tsukishima returned just as easily, cradling his own cup of coffee and sitting back down at his computer.

“Touché.” He returned, but the comment went unheard, headphones back on ears, the alpha scrolling through his music collection trying to find something that would keep him stimulated and focused at the same time.

With only five cases to quickly skim read the summary of Tsukishima found what he was searching for all too quickly, very familiar with the case he was staring at. Feeling the sinking feeling in his stomach become a gaping hole, he really hoped the names were one letter off, one space off, a silent letter hidden. This case he’d cracked by himself, earned him the respect of the unit, earned him international acknowledgement– not known internationally among the masses, but he was personally thanked by the late Matriarch of Fukurodani, given a reluctant letter of thanks by the unnamed Dictator of Shiratorizawa (they were still technically at war), and sent gifts from the Aoban Islands and a confused message from Johzenji about why they were included and even sent the report (Tsukishima was appalled to learn that people went missing all the time, but he guessed that living in a literal red dust desert death trap would give people that desensitization). It had taken twenty years of evidence for him to put the final two pieces together – he knew he had the talent, the efforts and the achievements to garner the attention, but so did everyone else who came before him. They too had walked, so that he could run.

He returned to scrolling the documents, trying to find confirmation of his suspicions.

And in the images he found it – deep in the document, a list of names, in dirty scratchy handwriting on dirtier paper. A register of sorts (at least that’s what the caption said). People in debt. And two of the names – he swung round on his seat to face the names of Tadashi’s parents – exactly the same. He looked back, twisted some more. Not a letter difference.

“Son of a bitch.”

If anyone looked surprised at his muttering, he didn’t know it.

“Son a motherfucking bitch. Are you fucking kidding me?”

If Tsukishima had a habit of muttering profanities under his breath as music streamed directly to his buzzing brain while he worked, no one mentioned it.

They were the same people. Tadashi was linked to the trafficking case he himself had solved, and if he had to guess, by any and all the indications unwillingly given in their conversation – his own parents had sold him to the traffickers, only to have him return for vengeance (or something, he didn’t want to assume what happened after Tadashi returned home, they had no information on that up until the death of his parents, and it would be idiotic to come to a conclusion about it now). All of a sudden he wanted to heave the coffee just settled in his stomach.

Images blurred on the screen, in his mind.

Those two people. A kind face, soft hands, wrinkled and lined and if he recalled correctly, based on one testimonial given by a heavily scarred, heavily traumatised individual, smelled of coconut scented soap and peaches.

Everyone on that list had been in debt.

Everyone on that list had been forced to join the trafficking wing as gophers set to ‘collect’ – fill a certain quote of pups to pay off the interest they still owed. And according to Tadashi, his father had been the one to embrace the work. Tadashi probably didn’t know the extent of it, until he himself was sold – taken, given.

Who knew?

Of course, he would’ve reacted strongly when asked why he killed them.

“Fucking hell.”

Tsukishima was a real idiot, felt like a real idiot for being so socially inept, despite all his training on reading body language and gleaning information off people. His hand moved the mouse to a new tab, bringing up another list of people in the trafficking ring, another glaring blue folder. This time – this sickening, revolting, heart-stopping time, it was mugshots of the victims.

They were full body shots.

He thought he had a strong stomach. But… even iron would shrivel and wretch under their heavy gazes.

He was supposed to be finding contacts that Tadashi might find solace in, not dragging himself through the emotional minefield that was the photos. But… he couldn’t stop, desperate to see the photos. He wasn’t in the office anymore, he was back in his room in the bachelor house, surrounding by physical files, screens with photos and evidence, red pens circling key words, and blue ink writing what was needed. He wasn’t surrounded by a team, he was alone against the universe, fighting for one more morsel of information, fighting tooth and nail for people who had no one left to fight for them. He was looking desperately to find hazel eyes – no matter how dull – to try and prove to himself and the world around him, that surely because Tadashi was related to the members in the trafficking ring he got off a little easier. He was looking desperately, because he didn’t like the way his heart ached, or his stomach rolled, or the way all the ambient light was being blocked and his breath emptied from his lungs and refused to enter back in.

“For fucks sake. Where the fuck are you.”

Red hair – black eyes – girl – boy – an ear torn off – blood trickling from the nose – brown hair, brown eyes, was it? No – wavy hair, matter blond – tears, so many tears, so much snot – too thin – too thin – so, so, so thin – handprints, green and yellow and black – dark eyes from a dark face, glaring – boy, scar running from lip to eye and a note of a fishing accident, lies – all omegas. Click. Click. Click. Next photo. Click. Next photo, next photo, next photo. Too many goddamn photos. Bruises. Blood. Bone. Blank stares.

He remembered the silent tears sliding down his face at the early hour of one am when he first went through the photos. He refused to let them fall again, hell bent on finding that –

Tsukkishima contained a gasp, grinding his mouth shut to stop the string of expletives that wanted to fall, to stop a yell and a growl and a snarl and maybe, though he would never admit it, a whimper.

That – that photo.

A scrawny boy, young and thin, undated photo, outdated, yellowed, dirtied. Wavy brown-tinged green hair, matted with blood, stuck to his forehead, flat to his head. Eyes averted, slid to the side but surprisingly defiant, despite their dullness. Hollow sunken cheeks – just like the photo in his original police file, except dusted with internal bleeding, the slight swelling his body allowed, flushed and pale at the same time. Splotchy.

Arms too thin. Legs too thin. Stomach protruding slightly under a sunken – horribly obvious ribs, a ripple effect as the skin dipped between the bone, muscle pitiful. No fat. There was some muscle, Tsukkishima knew that, he could see the hard build of it, and he could see the scars. Thin, expertly cut, expertly stitched scars in the abdomen – like slits. And then, the other scars – pock marks, gashes, and bleeding letters cut into his right thigh.

He wiped the tear before anyone could notice. And sighed. Allowed himself a minute to mourn. Stared at the photo. Allowed himself time to grieve for the boy. Then Tsukkishima readied himself mentally, closed the tab with the images in it – sighed, breathed in – 1, 2, 3, 4 – breathed out – 1, 2, 3, 4, did it again, and went to search the list of gang members they’d apprehended.

It took him a while, but finally his eyes fell on one that had been an absolute piece of shit to interrogate, and who, coincidentally had been a victim as well. He clicked on the file. It opened, taking some time to process first, pictures and document loading. It was lengthy. A video link shone in the same blue as the folder, and he opened that in a new monitor, ready to be played if needed. To be sure of this man’s personality, he’d have to reacquaint himself with the case after all. To make sure the victim was the victim, and to pinpoint him as exactly as someone whom the green haired omega would trust.

In the photos the man’s face was drawn, brows folded in on each other – anxious, worried, defiant. His eyes held an air of wariness. Two moles near centre forehead towards the right, lips cracked, face slightly bruised, greens and yellows. Hair shaggy, black, slightly matted but not with blood. He was obviously kept in better condition than the other pups, though – Tsukkishima scrolled through his profile, bypassing a close-up image of heavily scarred arms, heavily scarred hands; he was still an omega.

And he was named Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi Sakusa.

The only omega to be accepted into an ordinary university course, the only one to go up against the Government and win. One who had been reported missing fifteen years ago, the weekend after his graduation ceremony. And – “Were these people even fucking police officers?” – some dipshit hadn’t included the reason why that report wasn’t retracted, “For fucks sake, do I have to do everything my-fucking-self?”

Reluctantly, he paused his music. Less reluctantly, more curiously, he played the interrogation video, adjusting the volume quickly at the first static crackle.

“Name? ”

“Kiyoomi Sakusa. ”

“You previously said you were forced to work for this trafficking ring. Can you elaborate on this for us please? ”

Tsukishima flinched as the shaggy-haired omega sighed a bit too loudly.

“Yes. Ten years ago, I was kidnapped. Plain and simple. Happy? ”

“Sir, if you want to clear your name –“

  “Search my name up in the records. I know it ’s in the system – they showed me my own missing persons report. Shoved it in my face when they tried to get obedience out of me. I ’m an omega, of course I was fucking forced. You people may have the best most progressive educational services, but your society lacks the ability to accept social change. ”

The gritty camera was flickering, but it was clear in the audio that there was no mirth, nor hysteria in the man’s voice. Just clear belief that every word that came out of his mouth was fact. And Tsukishima – despite having been isolated to Inarizaki his entire life (cause let’s face, people could easily enter, but they couldn’t easily leave), knew it too. Believed it.

“What was your role in the gang? ”

  “Doctor. ”

  “Can you elaborate on this? ”

“I can ’t, I –“  

“Sir, if you do not cooperate with us and provide us with information, we won ’t be able to protect you from those that –“

“Fine. I ’ll cooperate. But only on one condition. I want to remove my missing persons claim from public systems, but keep that as my status in the police database. A mysterious benefactor put me through university so I could have the necessary training to secure a job at their company post-graduation, and I don ’t want them finding out where I live. I ’ve lost ten years of my life to a stupid decision; I ’m not losing another ten. ”

Tsukishima sipped at his coffee, watching the uniformed man on the screen squirm behind the pixels while the criminal – or hostage, he supposed – sat stock still, words flat and leaving no room for interrogation.

“Um …”

The video of the interrogation from flickered, showing the officer stand, chair scraping (Tsukishima wincing at the sound) then flickered again, time stamp skipping forward twenty minutes to show the same officer entering, a thick file in his hand.

“We can arrange that. Are you willing to answer questions now? ”  

“Within reason, yes. ”

“Okay. In that case, what actions did you perform in the gang and how did you interact with the pups? ”

“I was responsible for ensuring the safe removal of the drugs from their system. ”

 Sakusa didn’t so much as flinch, but Tsukki heard the apprehension in his voice.

“Most of it would pass straight through their system, but for the smaller pups it would be removed via surgery. ”

  “Would you perform the operations yourself or with a team? ”

“I did everything. Everything. ”

There was so much pain in that voice, that even through the audio of the five-year-old recording, Tsukishima could hear the anguish in it.

That was all he needed to hear. Surely. He paused the video. Emptied the last of his coffee. Stood from his desk and took a short walk to the break room to rinse his cup, to take a break, to clear his pounding head.

It would be a stretch. But there was a small possibility that Tadashi would’ve sought help from Sakusa. If the latter had any conscience and was as kind as the anguish in his voice had begged him to be, there was a possibility that he’d been the only source of hope the pups would’ve had. There was a possibility that he’d been the one to keep them alive. It would make sense. Tadashi said that someone had taught him how to shoot a gun. It could’ve been the Doctor. Again, it would make sense.

He slipped the headphones from his ears. And picked up the phonebook.

However outdated the white pages filled with names, addresses and numbers was, it had proven itself to be invaluable – and was proving itself quite quickly again. Given the fact that Sakusa was an uncommon surname, and the obvious lack of relatives – given his immigrant status to the country, it took even less time. (Tsukishima would’ve shot himself if he had to search up the Sawamura family name. From the stories he’d heard off his hardworking Captain, it was safe to assume that they rivalled wild rabbits in the way they multiplied). There wasn’t an address listed – perks of witness protection, he supposed, if the omega had ended up agreeing with the conditions – but there was a phone number. One Tsukishima hoped to the gods wasn’t outdated. He liked working and researching sure, but wasting hours of work wasn’t pleasurable. Besides he wanted to step towards meeting Tadashi – he wanted to let the omega know he was safe, now and forever.

It rung. Once, twice, three times.

“Hello, who is this speaking?” The voice was cold, unforthcoming, wary. Tsukishima couldn’t blame the speaker, the phone he was calling from was a blocked number after all.

“Good morning, this is Lieutenant Kei Tsukishima from the Karasuno Detective Unit calling. Are you Kiyoomi Sakusa of Shiratorizawa?”

“How can I be sure you are who you say you are?” The question came immediately, after a hum of confirmation. Another crackle of static, another beat of silence.

“Sakusa, believe me, I was the Officer to solve your case and dissolve the drug trafficking ring you were forced to be a part of.”

There was a sharp intake of breath and then a small breathy laugh, like a huff or a sigh – it was hard to tell, “Well that’s not what I expected Lieutenant. I didn’t expect my past to be brought up so suddenly. You should be careful, if I was a lesser man I would’ve been triggered.”

“I wasn’t concerned. Your compartmentalisation and analytical skills were highly commended in all your academic reports. Not to mention to survive in a place like that you’d have to become quite mentally… resilient. Now do you have a minute? I would like to ask a few questions.”

He waited. The line crackled, and there was what sounded to be like a button being pressed, but Kei hesitated to jump to conclusions. The static sounded again and the voice that spoke was low and muffled, before – “Yes, I have time Lieutenant. Is… has something happened to the… to them?”

“They’re all in prison, all serving life, nothing’s changed on that front. This is relating to your case and the persons associated with it, not your safety in any manner. You are still entirely safe. I just ask that you bear with me for a few questions.”

There was an audible breath of relief, “I can do that. What is it that you need to ask me?”

“Do you know of someone by the name of Tadashi Yamaguchi?”

On the other end of the line there was a sharp intake of breath, but it seemed distant – not coming from the speaker. Curious. Tsukishima gripped the phone tighter, waiting for the answer. This… could go two ways.

“Yes… I do. He was one of my charges.”

It seemed to take the better route.

“Do you have any knowledge of his current whereabouts? We need to contact him and the group he’s a part of.”

“Why contact me?”

“We’re calling all possible contacts, and I figured that he might have found solace in you like he might’ve years ago. I know it’s not the highest probability, but there is a chance, and we need to cover all bases. If you see them at all, please contact the Karasuno Detective Unit – just call the number of the Station and request for the Detective Unit and one of us will answer.”

There was a pause, as Tsukishima caught and held his breath – waiting for the other’s answer. The line crackled, and on his side the sound of a door opening had his eyes flicking up. Kyoutani walked, Tanaka hobbled in – in the same style crutches that were propped against his own desk. He gave them a small nod, then turned his full attention back to the static of the phone call.

“…That…, that makes sense, I suppose.” Sakusa’s voice wavered slightly, and there was some more muffled, far away talking, “Can… Can I inquire as to what Tadashi has done? Is he going to prison?”

The measured tone was derailing into something bordering on panic, though there was something disbelieving there as well – as if Sakusa knew something he didn’t. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling in the slightest, but there was no way for Tsukishima to combat it. Instead, he just set it aside – along with the hope that Sakusa knew the location of someone that he didn’t, pushing both feelings to the back of his mind.

“No. We are not planning to incarcerate nor charge him nor the rest of the group with anything. I believe a deal was made initially with the group and we intend on seeing it through, or at least renewing the terms. There is a larger problem we are facing, and that requires outside and consequently insider help. I’m sure you can understand how much of a help that can be.” Tsukishima absentmindedly began closing computer tabs, tidying his desktop folders.

“…Yes.” More muffled voices, and hushing sounds. Connections began to spark to life in Tsukishima’s mind.

“Of course, if you are to see them,” He said, trying hard to keep the smirk that donned his face out of his tone, “You can inform them of this, and let them know that should they make themselves known to us no matter if they decide to assist with the case or not, we will do everything in our power to protect them. And should they decide to assist with the case, everything will be written in writing, and terms will be decided on equal ground with everyone’s voice being heard.”

“Ok, if I see Tadashi I will tell him that. Though… I doubt it. I haven’t seen him since the day he left. I’m glad to hear he’s alive though. Thank you.”

“No prob –“

And the line falls flat.

All Tsukishima could do was place the phone down, face down on the desk. Lean back in his seat, hands supporting the back of his head, staring at the ceiling. If the feeling in his gut and his head was correct, he would be expecting a call back in less than three hours.

On the other side of the city, sitting at the counter of a spotless bar, the omegas stared at a face-up phone, watching as Sakusa’s finger pressed the red end call button, the loud static of speak phone dying immediately.

“There you have it. Now you don’t have to mope about what you’re going to do. Two choices. I keep my silence and you stay safe but wait for Suga, or you turn up at the station, go out on a limb and go after him yourself.” Sakusa’s voice was as measured as it had been on the phone call, his eyes sweeping across each dishevelled omega (Kenma was the worst of all, he thought he’d be able to stop Suga, he blamed himself), “Now, what will you choose?”

•••

“What do ya want?” Guff voices filled the hazy space, each drink throbbing with the heavy bass and balmy melodies. Figures lithe and poorly dressed drew eyes away from their poker games and somewhere close to him two alphas started to brawl. The noise reached a crescendo.  

Suga glanced over at them, still wearing his clothes from yesterday, feeling sweaty and grimy and gross. It looked like someone had cheated, or one of the wrestling matches playing on the large screen in the corner hadn’t gone the way someone had hoped. Their scents, aggravated and daring made his nose twitch ever so slightly, unpleasant. But nothing in this place was pleasant, and he knew the rest of their alpha pack would stop them soon, or perhaps join in the fray. He turned back to the barkeep standing in front of him, wiping a glass with a dirty cloth, “I’m looking to keep sobriety tonight.”

“Well, you’ve come to the wrong place omega.”

Suga would’ve placed money on the fact that if he was an alpha the barkeep would’ve at least asked for a name. But he held his tongue.

“I’m just waiting for someone thanks.” He sent the man a tight-lipped smile, wanting to be left alone, tapping the bar insistently. All the horrid scents were crawling over his skin, but he paid them no mind, instead trying not to let himself be pushed around by the arrogance of the alpha – who was fucking grinning and leaning across the bar.

“Miss –“ Asshole assuming pronouns, not every omega used female pronouns. Male omegas and female alphas were often fluid with them, but it was never safe to assume in the moment –“You have to pay for a seat at the bar, be it alcohol or –“ The barkeeps eyes flicked downwards, raking over Suga’s body –“something else.”

Suga raised an eyebrow, “I’ll take a drink. Club soda with a splash of cranberry juice.”

Grumbling, but no complaints. The pulsing lights slowly shifted out of the pattern they’d been running and shifted colours, as the music melded into the next song. A new line-up of dancers made their way up to the raised stage in a brief interlude, bodies slick with oils and make-up, soft figures and sharp curves too exposed, everything skin tight and shiny. Even though the dancers were not even closely marketed to someone of Suga’s secondary gender, they still drew his eyes, though it was the collars they wore more than anything else. Black strips of leather, embossed with gold. Golden letters. They were treated nothing better than property.

He clicked his tongue as a glass was placed in front of him, the barkeeper leering down at him again. Suga ignored him and the aroused scent the alpha was putting out, obviously trying to see if he’d just fall over from his instincts, obviously trying to get him into bed or get him into a vulnerable enough position where he could be knocked out and taken far, far away.

It was one of those establishments.

One that didn’t really have omegas walking in there alone, unless they were at deaths door and would take anything over the grim reaper’s hand.

Someone slid into the seat next to him, gesturing at the barkeeper, “Fuck off Juzo, he’s here to meet me.”

The alpha, Juzo, huffed, “Just because you’re one of the boss’s favourites because you turned in that –“

“I dare you to finish that sentence. Boss will have your ass. I’m still one of his favourites after all.” The omega that was sitting next to him, smiled sweetly and tilted his head, a head of light brown hair swishing with the action. Suga took his drink and examined it, watching as the omega – smelling of sweat, sex and the scent of rosewood – leaned forward in his seat, slapping the alpha’s hand away. The golden text on his collar glinted in the light. Suga couldn’t read it, but the length of the swirling text suggested he’d changed ‘Boss’s’ recently, “Now if you’re not paying, get your dirty hands away from us and kindly fuck off.”

The alpha did, snarling and growling a ‘I’ll fucking get you one day’ as he went. Before Suga could rise to the bait, a placating arm was placed on his arm, and Suga turned to face the omega who had laid it there, setting his drink (decidedly tampered with) back down.

“Long time no see Crow. It’s been a lengthy four years without you and your gang coming in and beating the shit out of everyone.” The omega smiled, his teeth pearly, white and straight. Something not a lot of omegas could claim in these parts, often crooked from displays of power gone wrong, and yellowed from drug and alcohol abuse. The man threw one leg over the other, crossing them cheekily, winking, sparkly sequined material sliding smoothly as he did so, catching the light, “Though of course, it was always the Ravens wasn’t it? You always did your vocal work, didn’t you?”

“Yahaba-san, it’s nice to see you too. Sorry we’re not providing the entertainment like we used to. But I’m afraid I’m not here on a social call either.”

“Aw shucks, and here I was looking for a good fuck that wouldn’t try and take my head off along with my collar.” Only the teasing tone and the soft laugh denoted the statement as a joke.

“Yahaba-san, please, it’s nothing –“

“I’ll do what I want with my life Crow, Boss gives me protection against the thugs you guys can’t clean up and control. I’m doing this, so this –“ Yahaba tapped his leather collar with a perfectly made sparkly nail –“can protect the absurd amounts of money I make.”

He grinned again, but it dropped when Suga’s face didn’t even budge.

“I need something.”

The atmosphere soured immediately. Even though the other patrons of the bar carried on with their lives – watching the dancers flash bare skin and light across the floor, watching the wrestling matches, drinking, eating, repeating – their pocket of space swallowed all sound. Yahaba’s face lost all uplifting tension of mirth and playfulness, leaning in, “You do know what I sell, right? Are you willing to –”

“I’d do anything.”

Yahaba glanced around, downed whatever drink he had in front of him, and slipped from his seat, “Follow me, you can explain your reasons on the way. And specifications, these last four years have been very good to me and my business. You now have your pick of the stock. Synthetic, organic, all hand-made of course. Don’t want to get mixed up in trafficking or smuggling –“

The left the bar, night sky cold upon exposed skin, wind picking holes in Suga’s dark work clothing. The salt spray and smog covered the sky, inky, hazy blackness dripping down, hugging alleyways, embracing buildings, slipping down to the dark cracks in the sidewalk, society rotten to the core. Suga stepped over them. Yahaba too. They kept stride together, Yahaba tracking a path familiar, Suga following his lead. They were on the East side of the city, encroaching on their territory – which he had to remind himself, was not technically theirs anymore, not that they’d split and been split.

“– So,” They came to a stop, sweat cold, bodies hot. The house was worse than Sakusa’s dingy apartment, looking like it could blow over with less than a breath of a breeze, but given the shoes Yahaba was wearing, Suga would’ve bet his life the inside was decked out with some high-end gear. Keys jingled as Yahaba unlocked the front door, “What do you need? You want it I’ll get it.”

They stepped over the threshold.

Lights flickered on, the door closed behind them. The interior of the house was cosy, homely, everything looked like it was worth ten dollars each. A ratty couch, moth-eaten coats hanging on decaying hooks. Rust covering the handrail to the second floor of the house – why it was a metal hand rail, Suga couldn’t guess for the life of him.

“I need your finest suit, and your finest set of pearls.”

Yahaba gave him a once over.

“Okay party boy, come downstairs and I’ll show how to tango.”

“Are you for real?”

“You’re so fucking tense, it’s freaking me out.”

“Gods above Yahaba.” Suga threw his hands up, but he couldn’t stop the smile from twitching his lips. When his shoulders sunk to their original position, they relaxed further than what he had allowed them to relax since losing contact with Oikawa and Hinata. And at the thought of the two, he tensed again, horrible images of what could be happening flashing through his mind. No, he was doing this for them. His thoughts went to Tadashi’s heartbroken expression, Natsu and Noya’s fear, Ennoshita’s resignation, Kenma’s livid expression. No, no, he was doing this for them. All of them. Now was not the time to wallow. Now was the time for action. It wasn’t safe where he was going.

He watched Yahaba pull a musty fedora from the hat stand beside the door, before setting it down on the floor and stamping on it. The fedora crumpled immediately and so did the floor, the dented floorboards falling slightly, all in layered gaps, some lower than other, the ones lower sliding back until – another set of stairs. Suga could hear the faint click as the once-floor now-door slid into place, pulled back completely. Yahaba picked up the fedora, righted it and placed it back on the same hook he had taken it from.

At the questioning glance, the omega merely shrugged, a pleasant amused rosewood wafting from under his collar, “No one in their right mind would touch a fedora. It was the only foolproof plan I could think of, really."

They made their way down the stairs, the walls going from beat up drywall to slick metal with a silver sheen. Suga traced the seam of two sheets with a nail, “Are you sure you don’t smoke any of the drugs you sell?”

“Drugs? You think I limit myself to just drugs, Crow? I know you haven’t come for some homegrown weed.”

The lights were a lot brighter down here, and as they walked; they only became brighter. Down the metal-clad hallway, steps echoing, before – shit that was a lot – the whole place opened up.

Yahaba was right, he really had done well for himself over the past four years.

It looked like a fucking factory. A fucking farm.

“Is that…”

“Hydroponics? Yeah, saves water, saves space, I got the blueprints off some dog-tired university student who had a project to turn in at midnight but wanted to … relax a bit first.“ The gesture Yahaba made was anything but polite, and Suga marvelled at his ingenuity. It took a bit of brains, and a lot of tenacity to build something like this, to even source the plans in the first part, “Online forums helped as well, once I bought a computer. Boss wasn’t too happy at first, but I’ve stopped requesting money for that job. Now I just have a few people who can come when I call. I gotta say Crow if you ever want to stop trafficking omegas, I have a place right here where you and your gang –“

“I think half of the founds would say that Yahaba. Though I will say, your offer is tempting, you’ve obviously done very well for yourself.”

“What can I say, quality weed sells well.” The other omega, leaned forward slightly, running his hands over the leaves of the plants – nearly fondly. His eyes slid over to gaze at Suga, “But that’s not what you’re here for. You’re planning to do something dangerous, aren’t you?”

“I… yes.” Suga looked out onto the sea of green, his hands folded behind him, “The Ravens are missing, and there’s only one person I know who could have an inkling of where they are.”

“Eye in the sky?”

“Yet an ear to the earth.”

Yahaba nodded in understanding, “I can get you that suit and pearls, easy. My wardrobe down here is full of high-end products. Do you want a masculine, feminine or more androgynous sort of look? Colour preferences?”

“Androgynous. Classy.”

“Like a harbinger of death. Got it.” Yahaba joked, but it fell flat. So he cleared his throat, and address the elephant in the room, “What else do you need?”

Suga turned away from the plants, fully facing towards him. The faint stink of honeysuckle and fresh linen mingled with the harsh cannabis smell. Yahaba’s scent reciprocated in kind, increasing the potency of rosewood in the air. It was anxious, unsure. Hesitant. Yet Suga still met the other’s eyes, commanding Yahaba’s entire focus.

“I need a gun, and I need the strongest scent weapon to be used against an alpha that you’ve ever manufactured.”

Chapter Text

The ocean breeze whistled its way through the window, curling and coiling and playing with the tassels of the curtains, and the hair of the omegas and the alphas of the room, the ones that had frozen as though the breeze had been an icy bath – backs stiffening, eyes widened, shivers racketing up Oikawa’s spine. Everyone had immediately frozen, the black obsidian glinting in Hinata’s raised fist – it powdering slightly on his hand, it’s splintered counterpart aloft in Daishou’s grip.

And then it fell, from both their grips, and the whistling of the wind only heightened, harmonising with the resounding, jarring shatter of the black stone against the floor. The sound of which, of course, snapped everyone back into motion – like a film only buffering, thrust into a whirlwind of action once more.

Each man had a different reason to be rushing into the room at that moment. Each alpha had a different skill that made them perfect for the moment. For Daichi, it was his experience in diffusing hostage situations, piggybacking off years of living in one of the largest most chaotic families the countryside’s of Inarizaki had ever seen and his drive to see these omegas safe and sound. For Kageyama, it was the military life ingrained into him, handgun clenched loosely, ready to click the safety off and shoot or swing and use as a bludgeoning weapon – though his eyes were fixed only on the halo of orange hair. Iwaizumi for one had the most experience with these situations, and Bokuto the most with these types of alphas (at least from what they knew).

Kuroo however, didn’t have the skills to boast in this scenario, not even the few he’d picked up with Lord Hinata anything to boast of in the moment. He was still at heart, an academic.

And he was still, at heart, in body and in soul, Hinata’s brother.

Even though it did, it should’ve surprised no-one when he shoved past the alphas blocking the door beside him, pushing the near-feral Bokuto from reaching his shaking mate, pushing Kageyama from his stance, earning growls in every direction, falling forwards from the blockade to stalk into the middle of the room, raise his hand and…

…backhand Daishou straight across the face.

His head snapped to the side, two drops of blood flying out in a near cinematic arc from the weight of a knuckle against some sort of internal bruise. A snarl bellowed out of his chest, but it had no time to burst as Kuroo placed himself in front of Hinata, tugging at Daishou’s already rumpled, torn shirt to fist the collar, pulling the alpha to his feet, spitting in his face as his fangs slid out in a one shlick smooth sound, the sclera of his eyes darkening.

“How dare you?” He was trembling with rage, ignoring volume, ignoring propriety. For once he wanted to shed the cufflinks symbolic of his house, of his upper position in society just to brawl with the alpha. The other watched on, Hinata’s hands bleeding from how tightly he’d clenched the obsidian, sweat-coated hair barely moving in the wind, eyes stuck on his brother’s heaving form, “You bastard. How dare you even lay a hand on him?”

“He’s my fucking wife.”

“Not anymore, Suguru.”

“That’s not my name. I’m fucking Lord Nohebi, you ignorant son of a –“

“DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT YOUR BASTARD BIRTH AND ASSIMILATION INTO THE NOHEBI HOUSE!” Kuroo roared, and the look pasted on Daishou’s face would’ve caused a lesser alpha unknowing of the situation laugh. But it didn’t. Instead of a ringing laugh, the ringing sound of a punch to the jaw echoed as Daishou’s face twisted into something nasty, claiming a hit to the other.

Kuroo spat out blood, and glared, “Well ain’t that the just the cherry on top of the pudding, Daishou. You’ve dug your own grave. Now let us lower the casket.”

The two men stood, less than half a metre apart, two nobles roughhoused and torn, both with saliva dripping from their fangs, both with rage and fury and cold, cold hate in their eyes. Kuroo’s hands raised, ready to claw. Daishou’s ready to pounce.

“Fuck you. ”

And Kuroo’s glare twisted into a horrid smirk, all cruel and cunning, and making even Iwaizumi – who had been trying to creep slowly over to the omega’s side of the room(in a way to not attract attention) – freeze. It was not an expression well suited for everyone, but it seemed oddly at peace on Kuroo’s face, and it served as a reminder for everyone just where, from what cunning family, he came from.

“Say your prayers, heathen, cause even hell will seem like a fucking mercy when we’re through with you.”

Daishou opened his mouth to say something but at the moment a sound left his mouth, it turned strangled, a groan and a resounding cracking as his knees hit the floor, thighs smarting from the well-aimed kick Kageyama had placed. The younger alpha had known what Kuroo was planning from the moment he pushed past them all, and he didn’t need any verbal confirmation from his Boss to know exactly where he should be. It didn’t help that the decade old rage – the anger he thought the war had beat out of him – pulsed softly in the corners of his vision. His inner alpha strained at its hold.

Protect the omega.

Protect the omegas.

Protect.

He flared his scent out, keeping it carefully under control to avoid irritating the omegas, but to warn the aggressive alpha struggling to get to his feet once more, that the minutes left on his life were limited. That trying to take back his wife and his mistress was the worst decision he’d ever made. The last one he’d make.

Kageyama grabbed Daishou’s hair and kicked his legs again to push him back onto the floor, holding him in a kneeling position. With his free hand, he grabbed one of Daishou’s arms, then upon finding himself lacking a third much-needed limb, glanced towards the door again.

Bokuto didn’t need to be told twice, in fact he didn’t need to be told at all what the agenda was. As soon as Kageyama glanced over he was already striding forwards, toothy grin dark and feral, “Let’s have a little fucking talk. Mate to mate.”

Daishou’s face paled.

“Y-you.”

“Me.”

All the light-heartedness had been sucked out of the room at the word, tone deep, Bokuto’s smile dropping from his face. And then pain was radiating up Daishou’s centre as the other alpha’s foot buried itself into his gut, leaving him gasping for breath. Pain blossoming in his ribs as another foot found it’s home in his side, Kuroo’s training with Lord Hinata having some place (finally) in the scenario. When Daishou cough next, he coughed blood and he coughed pain and he breathed in every acrid scent in the room. The burn in his nose hurt more than the aching, stabbing pains of every place that they hit. Kageyama tightened his grip on the man’s hair as Bokuto knelt to look the alpha in the eye.

“I don’t even know who you are, I couldn’t give a shit what your name is, who your dam was, of what alpha sired you. Every omega in this household has been hurt by you. My own mate was raped by you. Outside of heat.” He leant in, fangs sliding along the curve of Daishou’s cheek, drawing small drops of blood until his mouth hovered millimetres away from the others ear. And he whispered something only the other could hear, “Where I come from you would get burned at the stake just for looking at an omega wrong and we’d huddle around your burning body for warmth.” His voice lifted, “You can find pity with the dead.”

But just as Bokuto is about to sink his teeth into Daishou’s neck, just as Kuroo’s about to bury his foot into the man’s broken ribs (the jagged edges that do more damage with each hitching breath the man took, inching closer and closer to his lungs), just as Kageyama was about to jerk his head back to allow both of them more access and more easily accessible pain – just as Daichi was about to start approaching the bed (having finished scoping the hallway silently, lest they get taken advantage of), just as Iwaizumi began to sink to his knees placating in front of the bed a loud crashing sound disrupted the tense sounds of breathing.

The smooth glass wall that none of the alphas had noticed had shattered. The warm lights that had lit the vivarium, encasing the snake’s enclosure and silhouetted the moving mass of muscle and scales spilled out onto the floor, odd against the white tiled floor. Even Daishou, struggling to make words, draw breath and maintain his spiteful, prideful scowl, snapped his head towards the sound.