#ranpo somehow figuring out/connecting tetcho with the death of his parents

[selfnss]

// @giftandguile asked ; ❝ no need for sorrow, they are all dead anyway. don’t waste your words in vain. save your breath. ❞

it takes less than a second for the tension in the room to thicken. it takes less than a second for passive expression to shift to one of barely contained rage. instinct kicks in, hand lifting to rest against the grip of the dogs sabre as auburn gaze focuses on the detective.

"what did you say?"

it's barely a growl, rasped on his exhale as metal strains beneath the hound's white-knuckled grip. he'd draw his blade, extend it and take the brat's head off in a heartbeat but tetcho needs him. he needs the information he has - needs that insight that will help them in the long run. that, and he's following orders. orders that he has no say in. orders that he doesn't want to have a say in. tetcho's existence is one with one sole purpose - to cut down what he's pointed at. yet... who can this detective be talking about? jono and the others are following their own trails. tetcho has pinned this one down in a dead-end alley; anyone else would be pleading for their life at this point.

so why isn't this one?

teeth grit, the hound's grip on his composure starting to slip as his mind races. he's just trying to make tetcho doubt himself, surely? that's what jono would tell him. that's what-- the drip, drip of blood in his peripheral - gurgles around blood, inches away from the shell of his ear-- no. no - shut up. lip curls upward in a snarl, predatory in nature as the hound forces himself to concentrate on the threat in front of him. there's no way he could know. how could he know? all traces of what happened back then have been erased - they told him that they'd be erased. then why...

grip tightens on his sabre, tetcho takes a single step forward - narrowing the distance between them. "what. did. you. say?"