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chickensoup-4-mysoul · 2 years ago

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herculean(drrr x f!reader) - chapter 1

chapter 1 - Warm Welcome

synopsis: (Y/N) Brigall. An aspiring fashion student far from home, visiting the rousing Ikebukuro to study the distinguished styles that the city has to offer. It's clear to those around her that she most definitely came to the wrong place.

But unbeknownst to even herself, she's exactly where she's meant to be.

word count: 4,158

A/N: hello! this is actually a story that i have on ao3 under chickensoup4mysoul, i wanted to transfer it to this blog :) i’ll be posting individual/lumped chapters here, but you can find the rest over there!

warnings: minor violence, attempted kidnapping

"i got a taste of the good life, i was feelin' alright and i was in the backseat, it was a long day i was in a taxi on the cross island parkway,, good life - sammy rae & the friends

Despite it being well into the night, the subway was still pretty full. Many men and women returning from a tiring day at work, some preparing for a grueling night shift, others getting ready for a night on the town. Your grip on the pole tightens as everything suddenly skids to a stop, the doors of the small space opening. You are one of the first to leave, itching to free yourself from the tight confines of the train car. After all, you had been crammed into nothing but tight spaces for the past numerous hours; a plane, taxi, busses, and a couple of subway stations. While there had to be a quicker way to complete the journey to Ikebukuro, you didn't mind gaining experience in traveling. If you were going to be living here for a year, you needed to know how to get around!

On the other hand, the presence of just as many people in the station didn't give you much more room to breathe. You know what? You'll get used to it. This is a city! An excited buzz seemed to overtake you at the reminder of where exactly you were.

Ikebukuro. A big city as city-like as cities could get, yet still so underrated where you were from. You had only been familiar with the exact location for a short while before you actually moved there.

Weaving through the labyrinth of individuals, you became increasingly aware of how everyone seemed to blend together. A blur of beige skin tones varying in darkness and lightness, arrays of wardrobes combined into a muted color scheme. You briefly wondered how much you, a visitor, stood out. Perhaps your choice of dress didn't do much to help.

Your platform sandals clicked against the tile of the subway station as you made a beeline for the exit. Of course, comfort was important when traveling, but not at the expense of style. A pair of striped culottes and an adorably lettuce-trimmed tank-top did the trick. A classic juxtaposition of a simply styled intricate pattern and an intricately styled, solid color. With some cute chunky jewelry as accessories, you had put together quite the ensemble for your first night in the bustling city.

Despite the independent course of study you had taken, you couldn't doubt that you had quite the knack for fashion. A knack that you were sure could lead to a wonderful career. The plan was to attend university, solidify your studies, and gain some connections that would kickstart your profession as perhaps a consultant? Designer? However, you decided that before that, you should take a gap year to expand your horizons. After all, you had only explored the world of fashion available at your fingertips through magazines and the internet. Even with your affluence, your father had never found much use in petty vacationing.

Ah, father.

A smile of adoration overtook your face. Your beloved father. A wealthy man who took you under his wing when you were an infant and raised you singlehandedly. Even though his scientific studies greatly pre-occupied him, he always ensured that you were well-taken care of. Even now, as you are so far away, he's providing abundant financial support for your pursuit of your dreams.

So loving, so generous. Your heart swells at the thought.

A pleasant chill racks your body as your skin meets the cool night air. Now this was the feeling that you were looking forward to. While still crowded with life, you now had the beautiful night sky, accentuated by the towering skyline.

The journey to your apartment was a bit of a walk from the subway station. However, you'd be damned if you were going to run straight inside after being couped up for so many hours. Looking at the directions on your phone, you walk away from where it instructs, opting to follow the cluster of light that you hoped was some sort of shopping center.

In terms of cities that never sleep, Ikebukuro gave New York a run for its money. The plaza buzzed with the chatter of numerous conversations. Unlike the subway station, there was thankfully a bit more space as people passed you in different directions. You treat yourself to a short walk, figuring you deserved it. Peeking at different storefronts as you pass, you take note of the places that interest you. A cute bakery, a pet store, a gift shop, and--oooo you would definitely need to explore that clothing store!!

You catch a glimpse of one of the mannequins and your heart has been won. You can already picture a million ways to style those pieces. Although, your wardrobe was extensive enough and you shouldn't waste father's funds...

Aw, what the heck. It was for your studies after all!

You are face to face with what feels like a wall of stone, scarcely cushioned by draping fabric.

"E-excuse me, I'm sorry!" You back up from the wall, looking up to profusely apologize to your victim.

"Is no problem! Place is full of people, best to watch where you are going." He smiles down at you. Far, far down.

Even with such a friendly disposition, there is an obvious aura of power surrounding him. However, any fear you would feel towards him is stifled by his adorable accent. Seems like you weren't the only foreigner after all.

"Of course, you're right. May I ask, would you happen to have been...er... born somewhere else?"

The dark-skinned man beams, seeming proud to answer such an awkward question. "Yes! I come from Russia. You are new face. Not from here either, I am correct?"

You laugh bashfully, discomforted by how seemingly obvious it was. "You caught me! This is my first time in Japan and I'm checking out the area."

"Ah, could not tell! Your Japanese, it is very good. Better than mine."

A sense of pride and relief washes over you. As part of the preparation process to move here, you obviously had to pick up some Japanese lessons. Luckily, you were assigned a great teacher that helped you understand the language. It was one of your main anxieties that you wouldn't be able to communicate with people, but it seems like you're doing better than you had anticipated! You beam gratefully at the man.

He catches you eyeing the flyers he's holding and immediately pushes one into your face. You take it from him, immediately taking note of the words "Russia's Sushi" written crudely in Japanese.

"You are by yourself, yes? I can assure that Russia's Sushi is the best place in town! Good when you are hungry, or when you need help with anything," his demeanor suddenly shifts, his gaze sobering in a matter of seconds, "Anything at all."

"O-oh, thank you! I will definitely visit the next time I'm in the area." You're put off by the abrupt change in atmosphere.

"Soon, da?" Uuuuh, you feel threatened.

"Da! Soon, very soon!" You begin walking, deciding now was the time to continue on your way. "It was nice meeting you!"

It was only after you turned away from his kind smile and wave that you realized you didn't get his name, nor did you give him yours. You shrug it off, deciding not to worry about it. He's always gonna be at the sushi place, isn't he? You could find him later, no problem.

Just a couple more minutes, you promise yourself, as you walk past one last strip of storefronts. As you approach the window of a comic book store, you're startled when the door swings open. Two walking stacks of manga emerge in front of you.

Wait, not manga. Their faces are obscured, but you can identify a woman in a long black dress and a man in a blue hoodie. They each seem to have put too many eggs in one basket, teetering back and forth to handle the weight of towers of books.

"You sure this is all of them, Erika? We had to search every aisle of this place!" the presumed male asks.

"Of course, Yumacchi! All 50 copies of Super Tragic High School Life. Can't believe they tried to hide them."

You feel faintly guilty for eavesdropping on their conversation, but they're walking just ahead of you as you all head in the same direction. As they continue their chatter--sounded like there was some sort of special edition hidden in this series of books and they were deadset on finding it--you notice that their loads are becoming gradually harder to carry, swaying and tilting. Suddenly, the boy moves too sharply, upsetting the balance and causing his stack to tumble over.

Only a few steps behind, you scurry ahead to his side, reaching up and pushing the stack back into place before the damage is done.

"Woah, thanks! That was a close one." The boy's face is still obscured as the he expresses his gratitude.

"No problem, it'd be painful to see so many books in mint-condition be ruined-woah!" You push back another unsteady book with your fingertips, barely reacting in time to catch it. "You wouldn't need help carrying those by any chance, would you?"

Even with their faces covered, the pair turn to each other and seem to engage in some sort of silent communication. After a moment, they turn back to you.

You follow them through the streets of Ikebukuro, having lightened a third of each of their loads. It was a wonder how they were able to find their way around; even with you helping, the stacks still reached the top of their heads.

"Took you guys long enough! And what are you doing with all that crap?"

The presence of a new voice startles you. It was laidback and reminded you of a teenager's, not too different from the youthfulness of your companions'. You must have reached your destination. As Erika(?) explains how hard their escapade was, you hear the sound of a trunk opening before your stack is suddenly taken out of your hands. It was the man (Yumacchi?), who placed it next to the other two stacks they had stored in the back of a van.

Without any books in the way, you see that the man is blonde. It's hard to place how old he really is, his face carrying a youthful gleam, but not completely absent of mischief. His eyes are slanted and there seems to be a mystery as to what color they really are.

"Wha-? Woah!!" As he turned back to face you, his face seemed to light up in surprise.

Nevermind, they are a lovely shade of amber. In a flash, you are face-to-face with the energetic duo. The girl, you notice, wore a black cap over dark, braided hair. Her dark eyes shined with the same excitement as her partner's. They were both cuties, you did admit, but you were more occupied with the invasion of your personal space.

"You're a foreigner!" they exclaim in unison. WOW OKAY was it THAT big of a deal?

"Hey hey, Yumacch! Doesn't she totally give off Michiko vibes?"

"You're absolutely right, Erika! Definitely the same exotic, fashionable vibe..."

You're not sure how you feel about being called "exotic", nor do you have any idea who this "Michiko" character is. Unsure of how to respond to their aggressive advances, you smile bashfully. Their faces are suddenly pulled away from you, a pair of heavy hands yanking them back by the shoulders.

"Hey, knock it off! Quit scarin' people with your crazy talk." Another new voice joins the fray. Gravelly and masculine, and honestly making you feel some type of way.

Your savior is a taller, tan-skinned man. He's dressed unobtrusively, his dark green jacket and jeans doing very little to catch the eye. A beanie cuts off some of his face, but you can still make out intense, dark eyes and a stern expression. Erika immediately whines at him for being no fun. Your ears perk at the name "Dotachin" and you wonder if it's some sort of nickname. A small distance behind him is another man, possibly the owner of the teenager's voice. His brown hair is long in length and he dons a swanky vest on top of a button-up. You muster up a sort of appreciation for his rustic sense of style.

"Sorry about those two. Judging from their pestering, doesn't seem like you’re a friend of theirs."

“Nope! Just a random stranger off of the streets,” you jest, and relish in his apparent amusement at the statement, “I’m (Y/N)! If it hasn’t been made clear, I am visiting from out-of-town. Just arrived in Ikebukuro tonight. You’re...Dotachin, right?”

You are proud of yourself for not bursting out into laughter at the way his face contorts in a matter of seconds. The others do not extend the same courtesy, snickering at his annoyance. You can’t help but notice the glare that he sends Erika.

“Uh...no. Please. Never call me that. Kyohei‘s fine.” His eye seems to twitch for a moment and you feel a little bad. A little. “The two idiots are Walker and Erika. Guy over there is Saburo.”

Ah, so Yumacchi was a nickname as well. The two offenders are currently flipping through the manga, obviously too impatient to hold off their search. Sparing a glance at the blonde, you ponder the Western nature of his name. Erika, seeming to have calmed down, addresses you with a smile.

“So, it’s your first night here, huh? You’ve gotta be crazy to be walking around by yourself,” Erika comments, oblivious to the offensive implication of her words. You shrug, not really blaming her.

“I mean, it’s a big city, so I understand some risks but surely nothing could be any worse than what we deal with back home!” You intend to laugh it off, but the others don’t seem to share the same sentiment.

“You got color gangs back home? Kidnappings down the street?” Saburo remarks from his place against the van.

“A vicious slasher?” Erika chimes in.

“Full-out brawls in the plaza? Oooo, how about a headless rider?” Walker.

Nothing strikes you more than pure bewilderment. Of course, there was a fair share of activity where you grew up, but you were admittedly sheltered from all of it. Seems like there was a lot more to this city than you had initially thought.

“You seem like the kind of person that avoids trouble.” You feel a strong, warm hand on your shoulder and realize that it’s Kyohei’s. He seems to pull it away upon eye contact and you miss it immediately. “As long as you’re smart, you can probably steer clear of all of that.”

You smile and thank him, inwardly relieved that you had found people to tell you all of this.

“Well, I guess I should head home in that case. Wouldn’t wanna run into anything!”

“Where are you staying?” Kyohei asks. You unlock your phone to pull up the location of your apartment. However, you curse at the realization that you had gone very far off-route. Erika and Kyohei peek over your shoulder and notice your dilemma.

“We’ll give you a ride back!” Erika wasn’t offering, but outward stating. Kyohei nodded in agreement and Saburo was already starting the van up again, seemingly unbothered by the task. Welp, no reason to refuse at this point. Not like you were eager to trek back on your own, either.

“Let’s go then, and get out of this damn cold.” Kyohei gestures to the corduroy jacket you had tucked under your arm, “Don’t understand how you can just walk around carrying that jacket like an accessory. How are you not freezing your ass off?”

Compared to the van gang(that’s what you're calling them now, you’ve decided) you’re definitely more scarcely covered in your tank top and sandals. The weather had no bearing on you though, and whatever excruciating cold Kyohei was talking about was just a pleasant chill to you.

Walker and Erika squeeze into the back, reaching back from their seats to search through more copies of the manga. You squeeze in with them, right behind Saburo in the driver's seat. The two otakus are preoccupied, leaving you to engage in small talk with the men in the front.

Kyohei is polite, asking you simple questions about how your traveling went, if you had made any other friends (You hide your grin at the word "other"), and what had brought you to Ikebukuro. You appreciate the effort, answering accordingly and avoiding oversharing. Saburo and Kyohei chuckle at the mention of a really burly, dark-skinned Russian man who, despite his open demeanor, couldn't help but be intimidating.

"Sounds like Simon, alright," Saburo comments.

"No need to worry about him. Dude hates violence. If anything, you'll want him on your side," Kyohei explains.

You hum, fiddling with the folded flier in your pocket. "Is the sushi any good?"

A huff. Probably his attempt at stifling a laugh, whatever it was, you're kind of charmed by it. "It's...good for what you pay for it."

Not exactly the most promising answer, but you'll take it. Price isn't necessarily something you need to worry about, but it seems like the place holds sentimental value. You decide that you would visit, especially if this group seems to frequent the place.

You continue giving Kyohei your life story, explaining your passion for fashion and how you came to Ikebukuro to explore the bold, nuanced styles of the city. You notice Kyohei quirk a brow at this and he even glances back at you.

"'Nuanced', huh? Why not somewhere cozier, like France? That's, like, a capital, right?"

A simper overtakes your lips at his attempt at understanding the topic. "France is overrated. I wanted somewhere where the fashion wasn't necessarily for the sake of fashion, y'know? Like, Saburo didn't wake up this morning and say: 'I'm gonna wear this snazzy vest today, because that's what Sedgwick would have wanted.' He probably just wore it because it was the first thing he spotted in his closet--and that's candid, and that's valid."

"Um...thanks?"

"And that's what makes Ikebukuro such a fashion hotspot!!"

Your rant doesn't stop there, but Kyohei respectfully listens. It's nothing he hasn't experienced with Erika and Walker's manga obsessions or Saburo's Ruri Hijiribe fixation. Still, there was something about your sense of wonder, the many things you seemed to be looking forward to--in Ikebukuro, of all places--that rubbed him the wrong way.

...

"You seem smart, you can probably steer clear of all that." Kyohei grimaces at Erika's embarrassing attempt at an imitation of his voice.

"How macho of you, Kyohei! Sounds like something the wounded warrior hero says to the girl that he secretly harbors feelings for, but doesn’t reveal them to keep her safe!” Even in the small space, Walker still finds a way to gesture in excitement, definitely almost hitting Erika in the face.

“Right?? Dotachin saw a lovely young damsel in distress and knew he had to protect her!”

“Shut up, willya?”

As they drove away from (Y/N)’s dropoff point, the new visitor was still a topic of conversation. Mainly, how “macho hero” Kyohei was towards her. Granted, it wasn't unusual behavior for the man, but the pair of Otakus would not just ignore his acts of chivalry, towards a young woman, no less.

“Hey, Saburo.”

The driver hums, joining Kyohei in blatantly ignoring the foolishness occurring in the seats behind them.

“I’ve heard a lot of things about Ikebukuro, but nothing about it being a fashion hotspot.”

“Yeah, me neither. Sounds like bullshit to me.”

Kyohei stares at the rapidly moving passerby, deep in thought. Whatever this girl was here for, she certainly did not come to the right place. The idea of people so naive walking straight into the ticking time bomb that is Ikebukuro troubled him, and that wasn’t just regarding (Y/N).

He heaved a sigh, dismissing the unnecessarily convoluted thoughts about someone he had just met. It would be fine, he decided. It was just another random citizen, one who didn’t seem like the type to get wrapped up in the sort of trouble that plagues the city.

What’s the worst a fashion student could get sucked into?

...

Besides being stylish, your platform sandals were also the perfect level of comfort for a long day of travel. Even when you were walking for such a long time through the plaza, not once were you complaining about your feet being sore or tired.

Yeah, walking was great! Running? Not so much.

That was the main thought spiraling through your head as you all but sprinted through different alleyways.

You thanked your new friends one last time before sliding out of the vehicle. After they drove off, you turned to look up at your apartment building. However, you immediately noticed something strange.

The structure in front of you was not nearly tall enough to be any sort of apartment. You checked the GPS on your phone and realized that you had gotten off on the wrong side of the street. Looking closer, you could catch a glimpse of a much taller building, a small distance behind the building in front of you. You heave a sigh as you realize how long it would take to reach it.

As you walk down the sidewalk, you notice an opening between two of the buildings. It turns out to be an alleyway, most likely leading to the other side of the street. You turn without hesitation or second-thought, distracted by the c onvenience of the shortcut.

You quickly realize that the alley isn't a straight shoot to the other side and have to turn in a different direction. In an attempt to return to your intended route you turn again. And again. and again.

So it turns out it wasn't just one building standing between you and sweet, sweet relaxation, but actually 2 or 3. Frustration begins to build as you only seem to get more and more lost.

"This is ridiculous, I should be in bed by now! Just how late is it?" You think to yourself, taking a quick break to check the time on your phone.

"Not very smart to be wandering this late at night, is it, young lady?"

It was a wonder how you were able to dodge the bat that was swung in your direction. After that lucky break, you immediately tumbled in another direction, desperate to avoid your assailant. However, as soon as you thought you could shake him off, another man appeared in pursuit of you as well.

"Dammit, she's fast!" You hear from behind you, and you realize that a third has joined the fray.

Your sandals aren't comfortable, no, but they don't deter your speed. The different walls and turns become a blur to you as you sprint past, desperately trying to find a way out of the apparent labyrinth you've walked into.

As you round another corner, you collide with someone else; one of the men that were chasing you. He crumbles to the ground as you stagger backwards, nursing the sting of your forehead. Your back comes in contact with another, small body and a pair of weak arms wrap around you.

"H-Here! She's here!"

The third musketeer appears and your victim, a stout, unkempt man, sluggishly picks himself up from the ground. They are all terribly out of breath, and its pretty obvious that they're out of shape. A tall, lanky man with glasses approaches you, the bat in his hand indicates that he was the one who threw the first blow.

He's seething, infuriated by the chase, his teeth grinding and eyes on fire. He raises the bat and your breath is caught in your throat. The weapon remains suspended in the air, ready to deal damage. After a moment, he deflates, a sinister chuckle seeming to rise from the deepest parts of him.

"You've caused us a lot of trouble, you know that?" The bat falls to his side, he holds out his other hand to the chubby man beside him. You twitch, noticing the quivering frailness of the arms that were locking you in place. The boy holding you couldn't have been much older than you were, of college age.

"Unluckily for you, we're not gonna end it for you so easily." He's been handed a cloth. After watching his friend douse it in liquid from a bottle, you don't want it anywhere near you. "With where you're going? You're gonna wish you'd died here..."

It's so dark now, you can't imagine how late it's gotten. All you can see now are the glints in his glasses, and the cloth descending upon you.

The glints of glasses. The feeling of helplessness. Shrinking under the eyes of someone who has no sympathy for you. Whatever happened to you, it didn't matter to them.

The corner of your mouth twitches. It feels familiar.

That's funny.

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