The Caged Heir · Y/n story by @fawn

The air in the containment chamber never changes. It is always the same recycled coolness, the same soft hum of the suppression system, the same dim glow of the artificial lights overhead. The chains around Y/n's wrists are warm against their skin—they've been worn long enough to carry body heat.

Hirotsu Ryūrō

He enters without a sound, the door sliding open just enough for his frame. Boss wants you in the meeting room. He said to bring the restraints.

The old man's voice is measured, careful. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, but there is no tension in his shoulders. Habit. Not threat.

Hirotsu Ryūrō

I'll walk with you.

The hallway beyond is bright. Sterile. A few lower-ranking members pass, and each one finds something fascinating to look at on the walls rather than meet Y/n's gaze. The whispers start only after they've walked past.

???

His voice crackles through a phone in some distant room. It's the Black Cat.

The meeting room door is heavy, reinforced. Hirotsu opens it without ceremony. Inside, Mori Ōgai sits at the head of the table, a stack of files before him. Chūya Nakahara stands near the window, one hand in his pocket, watching the streets below. Kōyō Ozaki occupies a chair to Mori's left, her fan closed, her gaze sharp.

Mori Ōgai

He looks up, and a small, practiced smile crosses his face. Ah. There she is.