Chapter Text
“Have you ever thought about making a contract with me?” asked the Angel. “I can help with your lifespan.” He said it out of nowhere, blurting it out. Like he’d been sitting on this and didn’t know how to bring it up. They were eating dinner together — a day of patrolling ending in a bar over a hot bowl of noodles and a cold beer. Snow had begun to fall outside.
“What’s the price?” asked Aki. The Angel smiled, serenely.
“Steep,” he said. “But let’s talk about the benefits, first. You can borrow my powers to kill and to extend your own lifespan as and when you like. You won’t be able to make your own weapons, but that still seems like a good deal, for you.”
“How much will it cost?” Aki prompted. The Angel looked up, as if he was running some numbers in his head.
“Thirteen years, once a month, every month, for the next thirteen years of your life. You’ll be delivering about two thousand years in total,” he said. “Then whatever else you take is yours to keep.” Aki didn’t quite know what to say. He went back to his noodles, mulling the offer over. He asked why it was thirteen years, not ten or fifteen. “Thirteen is an unlucky number. For some.”
“I haven’t heard of that,” Aki said.
“It’s a western thing.” The Angel paused, eating the egg from his ramen bowl, yellow yolk coating his lips. He licked them. His tongue was slightly forked. “Usually, I’d ask for thirteen years up front — like a deposit. But since you’re so short on time, I’ll let you owe me twenty-six. It’s the 7th of December — I’d want it all by the 13th of January. You could deliver early — get yourself in credit if you like. If you owe me, I’ll always be there on the thirteenth of the month to take what you have.”
“What happens if I don’t have all thirteen years?”
“The contract is terminated and… so are you,” said the Angel. They ate quietly. The Angel said, take your time, and you have plenty of time to think it over. It was smug and intentional.
“Seems like kind of a shitty way to live,” Aki said, finally.
“It’s miserable. But it seems like you don’t have a lot of options which…” he shrugged, “If you want to die, it’s your choice. I just wanted to give you the option.” He paused, tucking his hair behind his ears. “I’m not authorised to arrange contracts but… Your situation bothers me.”
“Does it?”
“I’m not losing any sleep over it now,” he said. “But I would if you’d died without me making the offer.”
Aki walked the Angel to his building, then got a taxi home.
Denji and Power had struggled to make themselves dinner. Denji had burned himself boiling water — Power had cremated a piece of meat and damaged a pan. Aki thought about how neither of them knew how to do laundry, or how to drive, or who the Prime Minister was. A pair of motherless children, who used his last name on official documents and seemed as vulnerable to him as they were indestructible.
Power went to bed early — cuddling her cat and wearing soft pyjamas — Denji and Aki sat up playing video games for a little while.
“You know I’m not going to be around for very long,” said Aki. Denji frowned.
“Man, I fucking hate talking about this,” he said. Denji paused the game and rubbed his face. “I remember how to use the drier. You don’t need to show me how to do it again, okay?”
Aki shook his head. Denji absolutely did not remember how to use the drier, but this wasn’t about the appliances or the smoke alarms or the trash or locks on the front door.
“If I had a way to get some time back, should I do it?”
“Like a contract? Because I feel like contracts got you into this mess.” Denji thought for a moment, his mouth twisting up. “But… I really don’t want you to die.”
“I know,” Aki said.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” said Denji. He put his head on Aki’s shoulder, and unpaused the game.
Aki thought about it for two days. Was a chance to extend his life worth two-thousand years of other people’s life spans? It was undeniably selfish. The Angel answered his questions as they came.
Could Aki live forever? No. Aki might be able to unnaturally extend his life well beyond the average human’s — but that wasn’t recommended. He’d still age and his body would still break down naturally as he did. Extending his life span would only extend the possibility of his life — it wouldn’t protect him from accidents or stop him from being killed. He was extending only his potential to live — he wasn’t becoming immortal.
Would he get to stop after thirteen years? Absolutely. The Angel’s contracts were always clear and fair. There was no “catch” per-say, aside from the steep price. Aki’s contract could also be closed before the end of a thirteen-year period; he could deliver his two thousand and twenty-eight years early, if he liked.
Aki weighed up the pros and tried not to think about the cons.
If he exclusively took time from criminals, fiends, the critically injured and the terminally ill — that wouldn’t be so bad. There was the peace of mind, too. The final two years of his life would no longer sit like a hangman’s noose slowly tightening around his neck. He was afraid of dying. He was too young, and he was not ready.
By his Saturday shift, he’d made up his mind.
He and the Angel were patrolling the suburbs, looking out for a minor fiend reported in the area.
“I’ll take it,” said Aki. “Your contract.”
“I thought you would.” The Angel sighed. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Let’s seal the deal.” The Angel stuck out his bare hand for Aki to shake — it had to be skin-on-skin. The Angel’s hand was dry and cold — almost chalky in texture. Aki felt a cold chill run down his spine the moment their palms connected. His hand shook when they let go. The Angel nodded. “Okay, that’s done. Any time you’d like to use my powers, do this.” He made an ‘ok’ sign with his left hand, and through the ring looped his right thumb and forefinger. “Like an infinity symbol.”
“So I just make the sign and, what? Lay hands on a target.”
The Angel shook his head. He informed Aki that he would be kissing his targets — taking time with his lips rather than his hands. When Aki asked why — the Angel said restricting the power to his lips kept all theft of time deliberate. Aki would never accidentally kiss someone while using the Angel’s power — but it was easy to accidentally touch someone.
“And I like the symbolism. Betrayed with a kiss,” the Angel sighed. “It’s so… biblical.” He seemed pleased with this. Perhaps he was happy to have someone share the burden of the theft of time. “Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you,” the Angel announced. “The bad news — you lost about a month to that handshake. The good news, is that you live in Japan.”
“Yay?”
“Right now, there are about a hundred criminals awaiting execution and Public Safety have a deal with the prison system. Once every three months or so, they let me come in and take someone from death row. Has to be kept kind of hush hush, so you can’t rely on it — but the timing of this is great. I’m heading over tomorrow night. You’ll be able to get the first twenty-six years easy,” the Angel said. “And you can drive us.”
“But those guys don’t have long to live,” Aki said.
“Only due to an unnatural intervention. Their natural life spans are still pretty hefty — that’s what we actually take. Potential time remaining, not literal time remaining. I got seventy years out of a guy there, once.” The Angel said this like he was talking about catching a particularly large fish.
*
Aki drove to the Angel’s apartment building the following evening. Angel complained about Aki’s slow, careful driving for the whole trip. Aki didn’t listen to him. He’d hardly slept the previous evening. The thought of getting his lifespan back was thrilling — so thrilling he almost didn’t want to think about it. If something went wrong — it didn’t bare thinking about. This is what he tried to focus on — regaining his own time, not taking it from others.
They arrived at Tokyo Detention centre and were immediately collected by the prison’s warden, who did not introduce himself, made no conversation, and dropped Aki and the Angel off at death row with grim efficiency.
A guard let them through a series of locked doors, into a long corridor lined with cell doors. These weren’t like the barred jail cells you saw on television — they were solid metal doors, with little sliding hatches at eye level. Almost like very small apartments.
“Who’s the worst guy here?” Aki asked the guard, at the exact moment the Angel asked for the youngest prisoner.
The worst was Takeshi Kobayashi — a 52-year-old sadist who filmed himself beating five hostesses to death and tried to sell the tapes to people he knew in extreme BDSM circles. Aki remembered this case from his childhood. Kobayashi was caught a few years after the Gun Devil attack — he’d used the chaos of the aftermath to cover his killings. The youngest was Shinya Tsuzuki — a 26-year-old nurse who was caught euthanising terminally ill patients the previous year.
“Ending their suffering, he says,” said the guard. “Guy’s completely delusional.”
The Angel walked over to Tsuzuki’s cell and opened the hatch at his door. He closed it, after a moment.
“About fifty years on this one, Aki,” said the Angel. Aki asked him to check Kobayashi, the sadist. “Twenty-three,” he said. “Don’t pick him. It’s a total waste and you’ll regret the choice if you can’t scrabble up the full 13 years next month,” he said.
“Fine,” Aki replied.
“Could you sedate Tsuzuki, please?” the Angel asked one of the guard. “My partner will be taking care of this.”
The guard nodded and radioed for a sedative. A couple more prison guards appeared, along with a nurse, wielding a syringe. They opened Tsuzuki’s cell door — Aki could hear him yelling, panicking. He recognised the Angel.
“No. No, no, no, not this. I have appeals, I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t-“ Aki peered into the cell, and caught Tsuzuki’s eye. He was only a couple of years older than Aki. He was average looking, thin, with straggly, dirty hair. “They were sick! They were in pain, and they were dying!” he yelled. They got the needle in his arm, and he was out cold in seconds. Aki made the hand signal the Angel had shown him – the infinity symbol – and his lips immediately went a little numb. It reminded him being at the dentist.
Aki went into the cell alone. Tsuzuki was laid out on his small bed. Aki sighed and knelt. He swiped the man’s greasy hair from his forehead and kissed it — like the man was a child he was tucking in to bed. Aki felt like he was kissing a battery, a faint electrical static stinging his partially numb lips. He heard the Angel’s voice in his head, counting. It took twenty seconds to drain the first year, ten to drain the second, then the years ticked up and up with the speed of the Angel’s voice.
They hit a hard stop at fifty-one years, four months, and eleven days. Aki felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach, in the best way possible. He gasped and fell back onto his ass. He felt alive. His face was numb. He could barely catch his breath.
The man in front of him was dead. Lying with his mouth slack and body loose, his arm hung limply from his bed, fingertips brushing the floor.
The Angel came to collect him, helping him up off the ground.
“Does it always feel like that?” Aki asked. The Angel shook his head.
“You’ll probably experience diminishing returns,” he said. “You get a bigger kick from a bigger lifespan but…” the Angel shrugged. “I feel almost nothing, now.”
They got in the car and left the prison. Aki was too buzzed to drive, really, entire body shaking behind the steering wheel. No complaints from the Angel about the speed of his driving this time — he was fast and erratic and cranked the car’s radio.
“You’re swerving,” he said.
“Am not,” Aki replied.
When they got back to the Angel’s apartment building, Aki invited himself inside. It was a sad, empty studio apartment. It barely looked lived in.
“Can I give you those twenty-six years now?” Aki asked. The Angel shrugged. “Get it out of the way?”
“As long as it’s within the month, I don’t care,” Angel said. He wandered into his kitchenette, filling his kettle and yawning. “You seem kind of… Hyper,” he said. The Angel didn’t know the half of it. He felt elated. He felt like a man with a future. And when the Angel took off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned like half of his shirt — Aki felt suddenly, unbelievably horny.
“I feel incredible,” Aki replied. “I feel like I could go out drinking all night. I feel like I could run ten miles or- hey, do you like karaoke?“
“You’re going to crash pretty hard in a couple of hours. You should get home.”
“Fine. Ugh, it’s all Aki you’re so sensible, Aki you’re so normal then when I feel like having fun it’s Aki go to bed.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever complained about you being sensible,” said the Angel. Aki pointed out Angel had been whining about his driving earlier in the evening. “You drive like an old woman, that doesn’t count.”
“You don’t want to help me celebrate? At all?”
“Okay, fine.”
The Angel way about to say “One drink” — but Aki had already closed the gap between them and planted his lips on the Angel’s. He heard the count begin in his head. A few moments of muffled protest before the Angel went still (one year) and relaxed into the kiss (two years). His lips were still, and unsure (three years) but his fingers were in Aki’s hair (four years) and he gasped, softly into Aki’s mouth (five years). The Angel, who was usually so cold and indifferent, was now soft and pliant (six years), opening his lips, kissing back clumsily (seven years) and inexpertly (eight years). (nine years) Aki unbuttoned the Angel’s shirt the rest of the way, and (ten years) touched the Angel’s torso (eleven years), felt his narrow waist and the contours of (twelve years) his rib cage. He’d just slipped his tongue in the Angel’s mouth when they hit thirteen years — and Aki felt a tiny electric shock run through his body.
Breathlessly, the Angel pushed him away, his cheeks were bright red. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, fingertips lingering at his lips.
“That’s enough,” he said. “No more. I’m not kidding. Give me the rest on Monday.”
“Are you okay?” asked Aki. He felt very up but he didn’t want to harass the poor guy, no matter how over-excited he felt. The Angel nodded.
“I’m fine! I’m fine. But…” He looked at Aki for a moment, brow crinkled, and buttoned up his shirt. “You don’t have enough time to be this sloppy with it.”
“I feel great,” Aki insisted.
“You don’t have the time,” The Angel said, sternly. “I’m going to call you a cab. And make sure you go home – I’m not kidding when I say you’re going to crash hard.”
“Okay, fine.” Aki huffed. “I can drive.”
“Please don’t.”
Aki conceded, and let the Angel call him a cab. Aki chatted happily to the taxi driver for the whole ride home. He gave the guy too much money, and practically skipped up to his apartment. Power was in kitchen drinking juice directly out of the carton. Aki was too happy to yell at her for being gross.
He pulled her in for a hug, picking her up off the ground and spinning her around.
“Woah!” she said. “Put me down! I’m spilling juice!” Aki didn’t care about the juice.
“Guess what?” Aki said. He put her down, she was smiling – a bit bewildered, but smiling. “I’m not going to die,” he said.
“Denji! Come look, Aki is hammered,” Power yelled. Denji came running from his room – he and Power exchanged an amused look.
“I’m not hammered, I haven’t had a single drink,” he said. He was shaking. Denji squinted at him.
“Dude are you on something? Your pupils are huge,” he said.
“I’m high on life Denji!” he said. Denji snorted and made him drink a glass of water. Aki explained what had happened – the contract with the Angel and the prison visit. Power and Denji didn’t seem to know what to make of it – if he was telling the truth, or if he’d finally cracked. As he spoke, he began to feel exhausted. As the Angel had said he would, he was crashing and crashing hard. He stopped talking suddenly, mid-sentence.
“I am so fucking tired,” he announced. Denji nodded.
“Yeah let’s get you to bed, man.” Aki told Denji that he loved bed. “Sure you do,” he said.
*
Himeno used to talk about getting beer fear — waking up after a night of drinking, finding yourself stone-cold sober and haunted by everything embarrassing you said and did the previous evening. Aki had never gotten quite drunk enough to understand that feeling – or had never quite lost his inhibitions the way some people did. Now, in the cold light of a Sunday morning, he understood.
Aki remembered a man begging for his life and taking it any way. He remembered acting strange in front of Denji and Power, and then he remembered sticking his tongue down the Angel’s throat.
Guilt and shame. He rolled onto stomach and yelled into his pillow. He would see the Angel at the office the following day, but he still felt like he should call to apologise. He went to the bathroom, sat under the shower feeling like shit for a while, then dressed and shuffled into the living room. Power and Denji were playing video games, and both looked at him like he should be extremely hungover.
“I wasn’t on drugs,” he said, immediately. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “Don’t take drugs.”
“You told us about the contract,” said Power. “We discussed it and think you made the right decision.”
“Power thinks you made the right decision. Not to be negative or anything, ‘cause I’m happy for you and stuff. But I think long term it’s gunna get kind of fucked up,” said Denji, matter-of-factly.
“Who cares if it gets fucked up. Do you want him to die? Who’s gunna feed us and wash our socks and stuff?” Power looked at Aki, gesturing at Denji: get a load of this idiot, she seemed to be saying, can you believe this shit?
“Thanks,” he said. “Could you keep quiet while I make a phone call? Feel free to keep playing your game, just don’t yell.” Sending to their rooms was unlikely to work. His only hope was the distraction of the video game. He dialled the Angel’s home number – written in Aki’s address book in the Angel’s strange, medieval handwriting.
“Hello?” The Angel picked up the phone.
“Hey… It’s-”
“I know who it is,” he said. “How shitty do you feel today?”
“Um… Physically okay, spiritually pretty bad.”
“Mmm,” he said. The Angel breathed out noisily through his nose – the phone crackled.
“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” Aki said. And the Angel laughed, scoffing, like he was surprised Aki was apologising.
“It’s fine. You’re going to have to touch me to give me the time, any way,” he replied. “I mean, granted it doesn’t have to be as enthusiastic as that every time, but…” he trailed off. The gears began to turn in Aki’s had. That was probably the first time the Angel had kissed someone in years – maybe the first time he’d ever kissed someone. The gasping, the clumsiness – it made perfect sense now.
“I bet that’s a pretty big benefit for you, huh?” Aki said, his voice low. The Angel went quiet for a moment.
“You try being completely untouchable, see how you like it,” the Angel snapped, suddenly. He was feeling defensive – Aki was a little taken-a-back. “We can just hold hands or something, next time. And you kissed me. I told you to stop.”
“I wasn’t trying to start shit with you, I was just pointing it out. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Oh,” said the Angel. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Well… You can just give me the other thirteen years whenever. At work, or something. You can just grab my hand, and I’ll take the time. See you later.”
He hung up. Aki had obviously embarrassed him.
Aki continued his day off. He did his chores, he cooked, he went for a run. He went to sleep and had a terrible nightmare. He was holding a syringe and standing over a hospital bed. A very sick looking older woman was shaking her head, telling him no. But he stuck the needle in her arm any way. In the dream, he repeated this five times with different patients. All telling him no, all dying by his hand.
He woke up at five AM, sweating. This was the killer nurse whose lifespan he’d taken. Those were his memories – his nightmares.
At the office, the Angel found him, looking shifty and embarrassed. He tried to seem casual – he failed.
“Okay,” said the Angel, holding out his hand. “After this, you’re squared up till February. I think you have twenty-five years or so, still, from that nurse guy? But you want to make sure you don’t get complacent.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a hug, or something?” asked Aki. The Angel blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Just, what you said on the phone, yesterday. You try being completely untouchable – figured you might want a hug.”
The Angel mulled this over – trying to work out if he was being mocked, or not.
“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favour,” he said.
“Do you want the hug or not?”
He nodded. He did want the hug. They went to an empty office and locked the door behind them. Aki opened his arms, and the Angel stepped into them. Aki wrapped himself around the Angel’s shoulders and rested his cheek on the Angel’s head. The countdown began. The Angel took deep, shaky breaths. Aki held him tighter. The Angel, apparently giving up on his pride, wrapped his arms around Aki’s waist. He breathed in deeply, obviously smelling Aki, which was a little intense. After a couple of minutes, the thirteen years were gone – the tell-tale shock had passed through Aki’s body, and the Angel stepped away. He cleared his throat. His eyes might’ve been a little wet, but Aki chose not to look too closely.
“Great, thanks,” Angel said. “See you later,” and went out into the hall, walking away from Aki and the empty office as quickly as he could without running.