Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Five years ago. 1300. Tuesday.]

“I request to see the files with the code 10-15-21-14-15.”

The policeman behind the counter didn’t look like he was in the mood to fulfil this request or even have a proper conversation. His grumpy and tired eyes glanced at the ID card in Tecchou’s hands, but they didn’t read what was written on there. His ashen face was wrinkly with deep, purple bags under his eyes and his skin hung loosely under his cheekbones, almost making him look like a (heavily) breathing corpse.

Furthermore, he stank. Tecchou could smell it clearly. It was an awful, bothersome stench that took over anything else. Had this been unimportant, then he would have left and saved himself from trying to avoid vomiting on the floor of the police station. But this was urgent. So, he stared at the man with waiting eyes.

“Ain’t that one a li’l too insignif’cant for the military?” the guy slurred. Just as expected, he wouldn’t budge. Maybe Tecchou should have come here in full uniform instead of civilian clothes for a bit of intimidation.
“The military’s intentions don’t matter,” Tecchou answered immediately. “You are required to hand these files over as reques—”

“I’m not requ’red to do shit,” came a harsh reply, only the protective glass keeping spit from landing on Tecchou’s face. It swung a little at the loudness of his voice, warping the mirrored image of Tecchou, who stayed persistent. He stared into the dull, bloodshot eyes that sat in deep hollows, and spoke, “Sir, if you don’t give me access to those files, I will have to inform your superiors about it.”
The man simply waved him off.
“Pointless.”

Tecchou dropped the card and put his hands on the counter, covering his ID. He leaned forward until his forehead almost touched the glass that separated him from the policeman, who looked perfectly unimpressed.
“Access,” Tecchou warned. “I demand access to the files with the code 10-15-21-14-15. If you refuse to grant me this access, I will—”

He was promptly interrupted by a third voice.
“Hey, Nakayama!” The policeman before Tecchou almost jumped. He removed his feet from the desk, straightened his button-up and put his hat back in place on his balding head.
“Detective Murase!” He greeted the other man, suddenly cheerful and awake yet respectful. His empty eyes began to sparkle, but the new arrival—Detective Murase—paid him no mind and turned to Tecchou instead.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a mild smile. Tecchou scanned his face, but he could see no ill intent in him. “How may I help you?”

Tecchou picked up his ID and offered it to Murase.
“I’d like to access some files,” he explained. “Suehiro Tecchou. Military.”

Murase took the identification, glanced at it, and then gave it back to Tecchou.
“Very well. Nakayama, you have the keys to the archive, let’s go!”
“Uh—yes, of course!”

Nakayama stumbled out of his seat when Murase began walking.
“Please follow me, Mister Suehiro.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Tecchou followed with quick strides and a satisfied feeling at the defeated face of Nakayama.

The archive was down the hall on the left side. The hallway was partially dark here, as the final fluorescent lamps had stopped working and instead emitted an annoyingly high buzzing sound.
Nakayama pulled out a key ring that was attached to his belt by a lanyard, apparently a company gift with the logo printed all over: Mori Corporation. Tecchou hadn’t known this major company sent out those tacky and performative gifts, especially not to the police. He dropped the thought when a different noise caught his attention.

Nakayama had about ten keys that jingled loudly as he looked at and thoroughly inspected every single one of them before finding the right one and unlocking the door with shaky hands.
“There you go,” Nakayama grumbled and turned to leave, but Murase stopped him.
“Your job isn’t done yet,” he reminded cheerfully, and Nakayama sighed before he entered behind the detective and Tecchou.

Murase turned on the light.

It took a second or two for it to brighten up, one more until it was enough to properly illuminate the room.

The archive was fairly big, but it felt crammed due to all the shelves overflowing with files and loose papers. Dust had settled on a lot of them, often years and years old, and nobody had cleaned or taken them out since. Both finished cases and forgotten ones sat here and only those affected remembered them—if they were still alive.
At the back of the room was a single window, darkened and opaque by a non-transparent sticker that was peeling off at the edges, only shedding a tiny bit of light on the table in front of it. A single old computer rested on it.

“Since his release happened two days ago, the file should be with the other recent ones.” Murase watched Nakayama walk to the computer with his hands in his pockets. He looked exhausted already, just from walking this little distance. It was almost a sight worth pitying.

The detective snapped his fingers at Tecchou to get his attention, then led him to a shelf on the left side of the room.

“Dunno if it’s digitised yet or if it’s still in paper form, it wasn’t my case,” Nakayama commented and glanced at them. Murase shrugged, seemingly with no connection to the case either.

Tecchou ended up searching the physical files next to the Detective, who flipped through them with a trained eye and a precision that Tecchou was trying to imitate. However, his searching was a lot slower despite his attempt at copying.

A few names popped up that Tecchou was familiar with. Recent cases he had seen on the news or read about in forums on the internet while he had tried to keep up with the one he was after. They could range from petty crimes to outrageous cases of murder. Some in between were ones that weren’t even very serious and had just garnered a lot of attention from the public and the media.

The one they were searching for was quite a big one. Although, like Nakayama had said, not usually something the military would want their hands on.

And, if they were to take interest, they would not usually send someone like Tecchou or anyone from his unit, he thought.

“The military keeps getting younger, you’ve lived only a fraction of the years most of these files have seen,” Murase sighed. Tecchou frowned and paused on an unfamiliar case, unsure what to make of that statement.
“I’m not a child,” he noted. At twenty-one he may be young for someone of his rank in the military, but it was getting more common and not something to make a fuss about.

“The war forced all of us into impossible positions.” Murase thought for a moment. “Life around here is rough, there’s this kid—a bit younger than you are—who’s with the Port Mafia, I see him a lot. It’s… difficult.”

“Well,” Tecchou said, “there is a big difference between being with the Port Mafia, a criminal organisation, and the military. I protect people and uphold justice.”

A breathy laugh left the detective’s mouth but there was no joy in it. To Tecchou, it sounded rather sad.
“What’s your position in the military?”
“I’m a candidate for the Hunting Dogs,” Tecchou replied. Not a direct answer to the question but Murase understood nonetheless, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“So, I guess you have a good outlook for a career in your future. And it has already begun.”

A wordless nod. Murase could probably tell that Tecchou was not really up for this conversation, so he stopped talking while Tecchou moved on to a new shelf of files. In the background, Nakayama tapped away on the computer’s old and obnoxiously loud keyboard.

“Ah, there it is,” Murase announced. He pulled out a file, barely touched. It didn’t look like the usual ones Tecchou got to see for his job. It contained fewer pages than what he was used to and was without the red stamps of ‘top secret’ which made his fingers itch in anticipation whenever he opened them. But still, it was thicker than many other files around this archive.

“Thank you.” Tecchou took it and walked over to the table as well. Grabbing a second chair, he sat down as far away from Nakayama as possible. Murase took a seat between them.

He tried not to seem too nervous, but Tecchou couldn’t deny that his hands were shaking when he opened the file.

What immediately caught his eye were two pictures of the same man at different points in his life.

The first showed a teenager Tecchou recognised. The second, despite being only taken a few years later, portrayed almost an entirely different and unrecognisable man. It wasn’t obvious to Tecchou exactly what was different. The faces were the same, the hair was a bit longer but still undeniably his. And yet, he felt foreign.

It wasn’t clear when the first picture had been taken. Maybe around four years ago, but there was no date. It showed a close-up of his face although had been taken in public, probably in secret as the man wasn’t fully facing the camera and seemed to have his attention elsewhere.

The second one dated back to the man’s arrest a year ago. A classic mug shot. He looked rather bored, maybe a bit annoyed.

Murase glanced over Tecchou’s shoulder. “Another young one,” he mumbled with a sigh.

Tecchou quickly read over the basic information. Vitals when arrested and released, height, age, family… his current phone number but no residence was listed.
He flipped the page. A summary of the trial and what crimes he had been arrested and prosecuted for. Armed robberies, taking hostages, murder, torture, blackmail. Tecchou frowned as he read the details. They were serious, inexcusable crimes. His target seemed to find joy in the torture and suffering of others, as witness reports and quotes from the man himself suggested. No remorse.

The photographs of the crime scenes were horrific. Although Tecchou had seen situations like this countless times, both in person and in pictures, these made his stomach turn a little. But he kept staring at them. Maybe it was to understand this man, or to remind himself of what kind of person he was—and that, ultimately, what he was doing was a bad idea.

Another page was flipped and Tecchou frowned.

“He got out on good behaviour?”

Murase nodded. “It’s odd, he barely served a year. That should have been a life sentence, but this city is so utterly rotten—ah, pardon me.” The Detective cleared his throat. “He was released on good behaviour just a few days before he was supposed to be brought to Meursault. It’s odd timing but there’s nothing to do about it now. I never knew him, but I’ve heard nasty things about him. ‘Good behaviour’ seems like an excuse.”

“Meursault,” Tecchou repeated, mumbling into his hand. “I see…”

“Does the military want him back behind bars?”
“No comment.” Tecchou closed the file after reading everything. “That’s it, thank you very much.”

He stood up at once, scaring Nakayama who had nodded off in his chair, and bowed politely.
“Here, give me the file,” Murase offered. “I’ll bring it back for you, you can leave.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Tecchou gave him the file and followed the yawning Nakayama out the door. After his nap, now more or less awake, he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk much.

“Take care, kid!” Murase called after him. “And good luck becoming a Hunting Dog!”

Tecchou waved over his shoulder.

“I don’t need luck, Sir!” Because he was almost certain of his future position.

~~~

The details of the crimes. The pictures from the scenes, of the victims. They were burnt into Tecchou’s memory.

Even now, when he looked right at the TV screen in front of him and at the moving characters, all he could see were those pictures. Suddenly, this felt like a bad idea. An awful one, even. He’d been aware of that fact from the start, but it was only starting to really dawn on him now. He should just forget about this and move on. Focus on what was truly important to him: his morals, his work—it all screamed at him to not do this. To let it go.

Tecchou kept staring at the screen. His back hurt from the bent-over position he was in, eating cereal in bed while desperately trying to not spill anything on his freshly washed sheets. Although, he hadn’t had a spoon in a while—as all he was doing had been to stare at the TV screen until his eyes became dry and he had to blink, but that would give the pictures even more power. His cereal was probably completely soggy at this point, so he set the bowl down on his bedside table.

Usually, he was unaffected by the atrocities committed by others. Well, it would be wrong of him to claim he did not feel anything. Whenever he witnessed those scenes, he felt anger. People’s lives had been taken so brutally and carelessly that he couldn’t help this burning rage. Justice. He would rid this world of murderers and terrorists no matter what.

The anger was mild now. He mostly felt this deep, deep sadness and pain, almost like he was mourning nobody in particular, not even the victims. The feelings had crept under his skin and eaten through his flesh until they reached his bones which they clung to. They were heavy and made it hard to move, he couldn’t shake them off.

The images that flashed before his eyes were unusual as well. He had seen scenes like those many times before. He had killed people with his sword himself, there was nothing that should faze him about this. And yet, seeing the acts committed by this man was different.

This was a bad idea. He should forget about it entirely and move on. But at that point, his fingers had already dialled the number he had memorised earlier.
There was hope. Hope, that the number wasn’t correct, that the man he was searching for was long gone, fled the country, changed his number, identity, and face. That would be his smartest move if Tecchou thought about it. A life far away from his past. A new beginning. Yes, that’s what he wished for him.

But he also didn’t know what he would do if this number didn’t work. How far he would go to find him in the end.

And what if it did work?

His finger hovered over the call button. He wanted it to be correct. It had to be.

Tecchou lowered his finger until the pad of his thumb almost touched the glowing screen, then hesitated again. In frustration, he threw his head back and let himself fall onto his bed. The crook of his left arm covered his eyes, while his right lay stretched on the bed, keeping his phone as far away as possible—as if that would make it any easier.

Restless, he sat up again with his legs crossed, phone in both hands, nose so close to the screen that they almost touched.

He hit the green button and almost dropped his phone at his own decision, but he quickly forced himself to regain his composure and held it to his ear.

Beep. Beep.

The number was still in use, which was good. Or bad, Tecchou hadn’t decided yet.

His free hand was flat on his chest and he felt his heartbeat underneath his palm. It was quicker than he’d ever like to admit to anyone or even himself. Too quick, too much fear and anticipation, too many thoughts that raced through his head.

Beep. Beep.

He wouldn’t pick up. What if he didn’t? What if he did?

Beep. Bee-

“Hello? Who is this?”
Tecchou forgot how to breathe for a second. The voice at the other end sounded older and more mature than he remembered, but it was undeniably his. Tecchou sucked in air and had to suppress a smile at the familiarity that he had missed.

“It’s me. Tecchou.” He almost stumbled over his words, so he spoke slowly at the beginning. “Sorry for calling you like this. I just—” Why was he doing this? He had no rational reason to give.
“Wanted to check in on you, Jouno.”

Mentally, Tecchou slapped himself right now.

“…Oh.” A sigh could be heard on the other end. “Well, judging by the time of your call you know I just got out.”
“Yeah. How have you—”
“Listen Tecchou, I’m not up for small talk at the moment,” Jouno interrupted him. He didn’t yell, didn’t sound mad. Simply frustrated and tired.

“Did you have any contact with anyone else since your arrest?” Tecchou ignored Jouno’s words entirely. Trying to talk with him had always been hard but if Tecchou just pushed through he could do it.

“No, you’re the only one.”
“Have you found a new job?”

A groan from the other end.

“Yes. Tecchou, please listen. I know what you want to hear. I’m out of jail, I got a job, I’m turning my life around.”
“Promise?”
Jouno was reluctant. “…Promise.”

A smile made its way onto Tecchou’s lips.

“Okay, I’m glad.”
“You’re weird. Anyways—” Jouno paused for a few seconds. Despite his previous words, Tecchou still waited in anticipation for whatever Jouno might have to say. He was just thankful that he hadn’t simply hung up on him and was glad about the update on his life as well as the positive outlook. Then, “Do not contact me again. What I’m leaving behind is my past life, I’m starting new, getting rid of this phone soon. On whatever way you got my number: don’t do it again. Delete it. Leave me alone for good. Your concern is—uh—whatever.”

“I understand,” answered Tecchou immediately. He didn’t want to talk to Tecchou and that was fine. Jouno had never liked change, so his trying to turn his life around was good. Tecchou was proud of him. And if he had no place in Jouno’s new life, then he understood.

“I’m happy for you, Jouno. Take care.”
“Yes. Bye.”

The connection stopped and Tecchou said his bye against an empty beeping until he clicked it away.

He fell back again, this time with his phone on his chest, and stared at the ceiling.

Closure. That was what he had wanted. To walk away from this with a good feeling. One last time talking to Jouno, no matter if it would end in them reconnecting or the current scenario. All he had needed was a satisfying ending to this.

But then, why did he feel so empty? Jouno had talked to him, albeit for a very short and rushed as well as not very warm conversation. He’d said his goodbyes. But it had hardly felt like Jouno.

Then again, years had passed since their last contact. Both of them were different people now, with so many different experiences that Tecchou couldn’t even begin to list them all. Their lives had simply taken different paths. And this was what life had done to Jouno.

He wondered if Jouno felt the same. If he also thought that Tecchou was just a shell hosting a consciousness that had been twisted and tweaked over the years. Leaving the original parts in, then changing and rearranging them until years later it was so reconnected and rewired that it became unrecognisable to the people who had once known him.

A weird thought to him, who had been there for all of it step by step and didn’t immediately recognise change within himself.

Tecchou lifted his phone from his chest and, with a sigh, deleted the last number he called.

Maybe this was closure. Maybe he couldn’t feel it just yet and he needed to let it sink in for a few days. His last parting from Jouno at seventeen had been hard on him as well but he had grown used to it over time. This would be no different, he was sure of that.

He turned his phone off to resist any further temptations and grabbed his bowl of cereal. After inspecting it for a second, he decided it was too soggy to continue and disposed of it before crawling into bed and under his blanket.

~~~

A day in the life of Suehiro Tecchou.

His alarm woke him up before sunrise at 0445 local time. Which, in a summer like this, was way too early for even the birds to be awake and chirping. In the little light of his nightstand’s lamp, Tecchou slipped into the pants of his uniform with a simple white t-shirt, his boots, and a light jacket before he took off to go outside.

Breakfast wouldn’t be served for another hour, but Tecchou didn’t think he would be able to stomach anything in the first place. Although he had hoped it wouldn’t happen, and certainly wouldn’t admit that it did, the conversation he had had with Jouno weighed on him.

It was on his mind, spinning and circling with no real end in sight. He recalled the conversation again and, again, tried to remember if he had heard any other clues about Jouno’s whereabouts or the condition he was currently in. Had he heard voices? Cars? Animals? But considering the late hour, Jouno had probably been inside. Which was positive. The thought that Jouno might have a place to stay at night lightened Tecchou’s mood if only a little.

But all of that shouldn’t matter to him. Jouno had told him to stay away, and Tecchou should respect that. It was a clear boundary, the simplest of them all. And yet, Tecchou wondered if he could get someone to track Jouno’s phone and location and find him.

He sighed. Running usually cleared his head but he was afraid exactly that would become a problem today.

The running tracks were still lit up by the surrounding high lamps of cold light. Early morning’s dew glittered on the grass when he walked by and left wet footprints once he was on solid ground again.

When Tecchou couldn’t spot anyone else, he dropped his jacket on a bench next to his water bottle.

A chilly breeze brushed over his bare arms, but he wasn’t too bothered by it as he started a few exercises to warm up before running.

Now, feeling the wind tugging at his hair and igniting the sweat on his skin in cold flames really woke him up. His feet met with the ground and pushed him forward, making little noise while doing so. Tecchou had been training a lot for precision and getting closer to being silent, yet fast. He kept his breathing low and didn’t allow himself erratic gasps for air.

In the beginning, this had been a thing of concentration but now it felt natural. Despite the gears in his head slowly beginning to turn, Tecchou could keep running naturally.

His first lap. He finally felt awake.

He kept his arms close to his body and didn’t allow himself to take up too much space despite being the only person there. Controlling his entire body. Precision, speed. Getting as close to perfection as possible and then pushing even further.

Second lap done. He was warmed up now.

Jouno. Tecchou wondered what he was up to right now. It was early, so he hoped that Jouno was getting enough sleep. Trying to think back to when they were young, Tecchou noticed that he couldn’t remember what Jouno’s sleeping habits had been like. He remembered that he’d preferred to sleep with his back against a wall—it made him less anxious, as he felt safer when he faced the room—but how long he liked to sleep and if he liked sleeping in had escaped Tecchou’s memory.

Third lap.

The sky slowly turned from pitch black to a dark shade of blue, then got brighter from there. The rising sun didn’t have an effect on the temperature just yet, and it would still take over an hour for it to rise above the trees and bathe the entirety of the military’s headquarters in light.

Tecchou liked how the morning sun felt on his skin, but he wasn’t planning on staying that long.

He wondered if Jouno—Tecchou shook his head. Letting his former friend occupy his mind this much wouldn’t do.

After his fourth lap, he stopped and drank some water. Much to his dismay, Tecchou noticed he had forgotten to bring a towel, so his t-shirt had to suffice. He lifted the hem of the piece of clothing and wiped the sweat off his forehead. When he lowered it again, he could spot a group of people approaching in the distance.

Tecchou glanced at them and hoped they wouldn’t try to talk to him but, unfortunately, they seemed to be in quite a chatty mood.

“Good morning, Suehiro!” One of them, a man about a year or two older by the name of Tanaka, waved at him. He was another candidate for the Hunting Dogs, as were some of the others. “Up early as always, I see!”
“Morning,” Tecchou greeted them. “I’ve just been running.”

The group reached him and the man who had called out for him put his arm around Tecchou’s shoulders as though they were close friends. “Talkative as always, huh?” The rest of the group—a mix of men and women Tecchou had seen around but had never really talked to—laughed. Tecchou didn’t understand, so he didn’t bother forcing a smile.

“I’ll go back to my training,” he said instead and ducked out of Tanaka’s arm. Putting his water bottle down, Tecchou got ready to run again, but the guy’s voice stopped him once more.

“If you think you can become a Hunting Dog just like that, you’d be wrong!” Always picking a fight. Tecchou disliked him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, nonetheless.

“You lack the social skills and you’re not right in the head!” In the corner of his eye, Tecchou could see him making derogatory motions towards him. “The Hunting Dogs should keep up good appearances and the public needs to like them if they want to work under the Commander Fukuchi, if you know what I’m saying.”

He’d had problems with this guy in the past. He was abrasive, so Tecchou had mostly avoided him. His behaviour had gotten more extreme after the candidates for the newly founded Hunting Dogs had been announced.

“And besides that—” Tanaka looked at his friends as though he was taking a dramatic break while telling a story. “—the way you act towards certain criminals isn’t really what they’re looking for.”

“Okay.” Tecchou grabbed his jacket and water bottle, deciding it would be best to just leave. There was no point in fighting with these people.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you off!” The words didn’t match his previous actions, so Tecchou assumed it to be sarcasm and ignored that. He sighed and closed off his mind to any other comments thrown at him. The group laughed as he walked away.

It was nothing special or new to hear these things. People thought he had a weird personality, but it never got in the way of his performance as a soldier. He possessed a powerful skill, perfect for combat—he was born for this job.

The others were strong, sure. But if they chose to pick on those they perceived as weaker or different, or let their insecurities get the better of them when they faced someone stronger, it was a clear fault of character. Only time would tell which one of them would make it to the position of a Hunting Dog.

He had learned to not take these things to heart over time and just kept going. Former superiors had seen Tecchou’s talent and they’d raised him into who he was now: a near-perfect soldier. A man who was made for this job and who wouldn’t let these comments get to him. They never had and never would. The voices behind him had long died down, giving the impression that nothing had happened in the first place.

First sunrays were hitting the tower at the edge of the compound. Tecchou laid his head back and looked up at the bland concrete walls of the building in front of him until his eyes fell on the window to the office of the founder and leader of the Hunting Dogs. Yes, Tecchou was fairly confident that he would make it. The only thing that worried him was his contact with Jouno the day before, and the fact that he had walked to the police and demanded to see files in the name of a military investigation.

The ‘way he acted towards certain criminals’ could mean a lot of things, as Tecchou could be too brutal or too soft on them for other people’s liking. However, within the context of yesterday, this was worrying.

He wondered if it was something that could get him disqualified, or worse, cost him this job and this entire life he had built for himself.

Would that be worth it? Losing this for nothing since he’d lost Jouno as well—he didn’t want to think about it. He shook his head before finally walking back inside.

Tecchou returned to his room to take a quick shower, then he headed down to the cafeteria.

Breakfast was bad as always. It never really matched his taste and he had trouble getting food down when he couldn’t get it to be exactly how he wanted it to be, no matter how disgusting others around him found it.

He grabbed a tray and let his colleague serve him a plate of whatever interesting thing was on the menu this morning, then he walked over to a table where not many people sat yet. People didn’t feel like chatting much this early in the morning, so the cafeteria was mostly quiet.

Tecchou did spot the group from earlier but made an effort to ignore them, then he turned his attention to his food.

While thinking about what he had to do today, he dug in for his first spoonful. The food was bland, if not tasteless, but Tecchou set the goal for himself to get half of his plate down. It felt like bugs were crawling all over his skin and he shivered when he looked down and saw the colours mixing, so he closed his eyes. He had to use water to swallow or otherwise, he would have to gag.

After barely making it through the first spoon, he dreaded going in for the next one, but he had to.

His next portion, however, was interrupted by a high, girlish voice close to his ear.

“Suehiro Tecchou?”

She was too loud for the early time of day, so people immediately turned to stare.

Tecchou looked to the source of the voice and blinked. A girl stood next to him. She would immediately stand out in a mass of people based on the sheer presence she had. Her hair was a lush pink, and combined with her voice that could surely get even louder, Tecchou could imagine her as a good cop on the road. Easy to spot and loud enough for everyone to hear.

What struck him about her was her uniform. It had an unusual colour he had only seen one other person wear.

Tecchou immediately jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. His glass shook and almost spilt water. Now, all the people at his table and the surrounding ones turned around at the sudden movements and noises.

“Yes! Suehiro Tecchou, Ma’am!” Tecchou saluted and puffed his chest out.

“Okay whatever, please follow me.” A smirk appeared on the girl’s lips, one that almost made Tecchou shiver. “Commander Fukuchi wishes to speak with you about your recent behaviour.”

With that, she spun on her heels and walked off. It took Tecchou a second to gather himself and stumble after her, all eyes on him.

While leaving, he caught a glimpse of the group that had talked to him this morning—all joyfully whispering words about Tecchou’s impending demise.

‘Recent behaviour’. So, he’d been reported or they had found out on their own. It didn’t surprise Tecchou—the Hunting Dogs were an elite unit, after all.

His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand. This was it. He could pack his bags and go—go where? He didn’t have another place to even stay at. Maybe he had enough money to rent an apartment for a while, but finding work enough to pay off living expenses without having finished school would be hard.

He sighed. Maybe dropping to his knees and begging to keep this position would be best, although that was beneath him. Apologising sounded good, too. Maybe showing that he just wanted to support someone who had recently gotten out of jail was a righteous thing to do. Yes. That sounded decent, at least.

He’d promise that he wouldn’t ever contact Jouno again. Because Jouno didn’t want to talk to him anymore, and because this job was far more important. He had to be selfless in the most literal sense of the word and listen to what his superiors said. Thinking on his own and letting feelings get in the way had been a grave mistake and he’d take any punishment if it meant being able to continue his work of becoming the body for justice.

Tecchou had a bit more time to think about his words as the girl led him to an elevator. They stepped in, Tecchou closely behind her.

He had seen her around. Fellow soldiers were terrified of her, but he’d never had any conflicts with her. Although, he knew she’d watched him from afar—superiors often did that, there was nothing special about it. Her name had escaped him, though.

Something with a B? With T? He cocked his head to the side as he tried to remember but his mind stayed blank.

The elevator arrived with a ding and she walked out. Tecchou followed like a dog on a leash.

They reached a hallway with different offices and conference rooms, ending in a more open space for bigger meetings and presentations behind a glass door. A few people were currently seated there, and they turned their heads to look at Tecchou and the Hunting Dog as they walked to Commander Fukuchi’s office.

“Wait here,” the girl told him and Tecchou complied. He positioned himself at the opposite wall and straightened his back, ignoring the curious looks from the room to his right.

The girl knocked and entered the room, closing the door before Tecchou could catch a glimpse of what or who was inside. He couldn’t hear anything, not even muffled voices. This only made him more nervous, but he tried not to show it.

Tecchou probably looked extremely composed for someone currently afraid of losing everything he had built his life on. His comrades knew him as someone who barely showed strong reactions or emotions, as Tecchou preferred to keep them stored away. Soldiers didn’t cry, that sentence had been drilled into his head by someone he had looked up to immensely back when he’d first started.

His feelings had gotten the better of him many years ago and he now viewed these times as grave mistakes. The day before had probably been one of those instances and Tecchou mentally slapped himself again for what he had done, and for still thinking about it so much.

He valued his own empathy, but assuming a more neutral approach was often better in his line of work.

He sighed. Maybe-perhaps-close-to-being former line of work exactly because of emotions and irrational actions.

Tapping his finger against his other hand behind his back, he waited. A minute more, then two, until the doorhandle finally moved.

The girl’s pink hair appeared, then her face popped through the crack of the door.
“You can come in now.”

Tecchou nodded and stepped inside when the girl opened the door further.

The office was decorated with dark, wooden furniture rather than the modern sleek white and grey metal that could be found in all other offices. It gave the space an older and more powerful aura that Tecchou had already noticed when he had stood there for the first time—a perfect fit for the man this office belonged to.

Opposite the door and under the Hunting Dogs’ emblem sat the Commander in his red uniform, elbows resting on the heavy desk.

“Suehiro Tecchou!” He saluted as he introduced himself. “It’s my pleasure to meet with you, Commander Fukuchi, Sir!”

The Commander glanced at him. Tecchou had always had the feeling that he was looking elsewhere. At something invisible that only he could see. But this time, his eyes were directly on Tecchou, scanning his face.

He didn’t look displeased or angry, which made Tecchou feel a bit more hopeful and less nervous.

“Please, sit down.” The Commander motioned at the chair across from him at his desk. Behind him, the girl closed the door and crossed the room with quick steps until she stood next to Fukuchi.
“This is Ookura Teruko. The current vice commander and only other member of the Hunting Dogs. I believe you’ve met before?”
“Not really, Sir!”

Fukuchi waved his hand at Tecchou. “You can drop the formal voice, it’s just us here.”

Tecchou nodded at the order.

“So, Suehiro…” Tecchou’s eyes followed Fukuchi’s hands to the files and loose papers on the desk that clearly stated his name and had pictures of Tecchou on them from the moment he’d officially been made a part of the military at thirteen and received his own records.

“I won’t beat around the bush for too long, we all have better things to do, after all.”

Tecchou formed fists in his lap, but he refrained from blabbering out his carefully thought-out apology.

“You’ve been considered as a member for the Hunting Dogs for a long time now, and, if you are still interested in the position, I would ask you if you would like to join—”

“Yes, Sir!” Tecchou burst out even before Fukuchi could finish his sentence. The room fell silent as heat crept up his neck. Too early, he’d gotten ahead of himself.

Teruko looked like she couldn’t decide between yelling at him for interrupting Fukuchi or giggling, while Fukuchi himself looked rather amused. Both pairs of eyes looked at him in mild disbelief and Tecchou wanted nothing more than to disappear completely. Maybe being kicked out of the military would have been less humiliating after all.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he slumped down in his seat. “Please continue.”

Fukuchi cleared his throat and carried on as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “—you would like to join this group. But you’ve already given me a clear answer to that.” He smiled mildly. “Boy, I appreciate your enthusiasm but hope you know what this position will imply. You cannot go back.”

“Yes.” Tecchou nodded, he had been informed about this when he had been introduced to the programme. But his wish to join had never, ever faltered. “The position and the Hunting Dogs’ surgeries are a gift to help me uphold justice. I will accept this if it means I can help those in need and punish those who deserve it.”

It was cheesy, he could see it in Teruko’s face. But it was Tecchou’s truth, and he lived by it.

With a grin, Fukuchi leaned back in his seat. “I like your attitude.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Tecchou was glad he could get his intentions across so easily. He had never really had the chance to talk to Fukuchi in private without the other candidates, so this was both an honour and a great opportunity.

The reality of what was happening wasn’t really setting in for Tecchou just yet, but he was sure that once he was alone again, he’d lose his mind a little. He had been working towards this for so long, and it was finally time. His efforts were being recognised and rewarded with the highest honour he could think of.

Fukuchi took a pen and wrote something on a note. “Well then…”

He looked at Teruko, who nodded.

“You will soon be scheduled for your formal transfer to the Hunting Dogs. Paperwork, new uniforms, and a new place to stay within the facility will all be done over the next few days and weeks. As for your first surgery, Teruko will help you schedule an appointment with our ability engineers. I know you’ve been taking this lightly, but there will be lengthy conversations with doctors and engineers about this. It’s something that’s required by law and you will have to agree to those conditions first before the rest happens. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Suehiro, you’re an excellent soldier and fighter.” Tecchou felt flattered at the Commander’s words. It reminded him of long bygone days when another soldier’s praise had felt like the highest reward. “I expect you to keep doing your best in the future. Failure, in the Hunting Dogs, means punishment. I hope you’re aware of that.”

He nodded, so Fukuchi continued.

“This is a formal invitation to join this unit. If, after the conversations with our doctors, there is only a single doubt in your mind, you will not be eligible for this position now or ever again.”

“I understand.” Tecchou thought he’d made it clear enough, but he understood where the concern came from. He wondered if any of the people who had tried to ridicule him would be fully ready to take this step. Or how they would react to seeing him in the red uniform Teruko and Fukuchi wore.

“If I may ask—how many other people have been chosen?”

Teruko gave him an almost amused look as though she knew what Tecchou was getting at. He found getting ridiculed and not wanting these people to join the same unit to be less amusing.

“Just you unless you decline. Then, someone different will take your place,” Fukuchi told him and Tecchou was glad that he didn’t seem to know the background behind the question. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything to save Tecchou the embarrassment.

“Now, I believe you have further tasks to complete today.” Fukuchi stood up and so did Tecchou. He shook the hand Fukuchi offered him and struggled against the man’s firm grip for a second.

“I expect big things from you, boy.”

Tecchou nodded. “I will not disappoint.”

The Commander laughed again. “You’ve really convinced me in that aspect. Teruko?”

She walked over to Tecchou. “Please follow me. We’ll schedule an appointment, then you will be able to return to your duties.”

Bowing shortly, Tecchou thanked the Commander. He followed Teruko, excited for the new life that awaited him.

Chapter Text

It was dark.

Tecchou needed to breathe, gasp for air, but water surrounded him. His clothes were heavy and made it almost impossible for him to move, sometimes even acting like a noose around his neck when they were pulled by the torrents around him.

He forced his eyes open.

The dirty water immediately stung in them. It hurt and he didn’t know what chemicals were in it but he needed to keep them open to look for an opportunity to flee from the river as he couldn’t hold his breath for too long.

Besides his own anxiety rising by the second, the river was calm: the achingly loud noises of the fights by the shore had mostly disappeared. A flickering orange was burning on the surface of the river but what reached him was dim.

Light danced over the bodies that floated around him. Motionless, pale, sometimes in sickly colours that almost made Tecchou gag. Open wounds and burns covered both flesh that had already died, and flesh that had still been alive at the moment of injury. Red and black, often exposing bare bones.

Fish had started eating away at their corpses but they were scared away by the few soldiers that were still alive and struggling against the flames and a rain of bullets when someone spotted them from the shore. Above the surface it was birds and maggots, beneath the water it was hungry fish. Somehow, humans were always reclaimed by the nature they sought to destroy, be it through animals on land, underwater, or by parasites.

Most of the corpses down here were soldiers twice his size and thrice his age, but Tecchou could also spot two or three children around as old as him. It was impossible to tell if they had been soldiers, hostages, human shields, or civilians. But that didn’t matter anymore—their lives were over, he couldn’t help them.

Another body floated by, touching Tecchou’s arm as it passed. He stayed still. As much as he wanted to move his arm away and felt the need to scratch off the skin where he had been touched until the sensation was gone, he couldn’t risk an enemy soldier spotting him. Moving could cost him his life if someone on land spotted his movement and shot in his direction. No matter if they were an ally or an enemy, they would shoot without checking for his affiliation. The risk was too high, and being in the water meant almost certain death anyway.

The familiar feeling of having to take a breath formed in his lungs. Tecchou didn’t have much longer.

Looking up, he couldn’t see an opening in the fire and bullets. Only corpses pulled away by the current, staring at nothing at all with milky gazes.

Something grabbed Tecchou’s ankle and his entire body was shaken by sudden terror. He looked down, lost air with a racing heart.

A hand, attached to a man, was wrapped around the limb. Shit. Tecchou shook his leg but he wouldn’t let go. Kicking his other foot against the hand was slow and powerless in water and did nothing to help—it only cost him more oxygen. The soldier kept staring at him with a wild, animalistic expression. His features appeared distorted and Tecchou didn’t know if it was due to injuries or the bad water changing his perception. Only his eyes were a clear white with blood-red irises.

He was past saving, missing his other arm and rapidly bleeding out. But he wanted to take someone with him. And that someone would be Tecchou.

Tecchou reached for his belt and grabbed a knife. It wasn’t sharp or long enough to sever someone’s hand from their arm, but the tip would suffice. He pulled his knee to his chest and stabbed the knife into the man’s hand with his full strength.

There was no time to pull it out as the soldier screamed in pain, but no sound ever reached Tecchou while water filled his lungs and his hand slipped off his ankle. He became one more body floating in the water. With no past, no future. Death didn’t discriminate between good and evil. And it seemed like Tecchou would be another one of Death’s victims.

As he could feel his own senses leave him and water began to fill his lungs painfully, a hand grabbed him by the back of his uniform. With a strong grip, it lifted him up. Fast. Until he broke out of the water in a place with no flames. The opening he had been looking for but never found.

Tecchou desperately gasped for air when he was dragged out of the river and across the shore. Too weak to turn his head and see who his rescuer was, Tecchou could do nothing but let it happen. All that was in his field of vision was a pair of black boots on damp earth.

He was tossed onto a burnt patch of grass a few metres from the immediate shore.

“Tecchou!” A familiar voice called out to him.

“Careful, boy,” his rescuer said, and Tecchou’s exhausted heart jumped. Another person he knew. “He reeks.”

The tip of a boot turned him over as Tecchou coughed up liquid—he couldn’t call it water, as it tasted horrible and burned in his lungs and mouth. Whatever was in there couldn’t be good for him, but it hadn’t killed him yet.

“Jouno…” Tecchou managed. He tried to sit up despite his entire body shaking uncontrollably. “I told you to—”

“I don’t care,” Jouno retorted, voice cold, all hints of worry gone. He had always been like this and there was no point in arguing with him now, so Tecchou turned his attention away from him.

“But,” Tecchou said, finally finding it in him to sit up. He looked at his rescuer—a tall man and seasoned soldier with a grim expression. And yet with a soft spot for children like Tecchou himself. He shined like gold in Tecchou’s eyes when he looked down, meeting his blurry gaze while Tecchou talked to him. “I got my first two confirmed kills.” He weakly held up a trembling hand with two fingers to highlight his accomplishment.

The man nodded in acknowledgement. “You do good work, kid.” A big hand landed on his head. Usually, he’d ruffle his hair, but due to him being drenched, that wasn’t possible. Tecchou smiled at the praise, feeling warmth in his chest when it came from this man in particular.

He finally turned to Jouno, who was covered in blood although probably not his own, judging by the lack of pain in his face. He held a sword that was almost as tall as him, waiting to give it back to Tecchou.

For a moment, Tecchou hesitated.

Jouno was unusually pale and wore an expression that he couldn’t identify. Almost as though he was disappointed, despite the great news Tecchou had announced. He decided to pay that no mind right now. This was his moment, and he was far from being done for tonight.

Under the fire-lit night sky, Tecchou grabbed his blade. It was heavy and almost made him stumble. But he was ready to continue fighting. Until his death, or until justice was served.

[Present day. 0500. A Thursday.]

Tecchou woke up coughing when his alarm rang. It shook his entire body until he blindly grabbed his water bottle, opened it with trembling hands, and chugged about half of it. It was fresh but didn’t quite wash away the bitter taste his dream had left in his mouth. Rotten flesh mixing with toxins, kerosine, ash, and blood. Thinking about it made Tecchou shiver, so he took another long sip out of his bottle.

The taste faded slowly but the memory of it stayed.

Dropping the bottle to the side, he laid back down for a moment. His heart was beating fast, but now that he was awake and breathing again, it would calm down eventually.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to dream about the past. But this one was particularly stubborn. An annoying one that came back again and again, waking him up coughing like he was on that grass again after having to be rescued. And then Jouno—

He probably remembered it so clearly because the enhancement surgeries felt similar. The time leading up to them felt like drowning when his body began to slow down and restrict his vital functions. Loss of sleep but feeling fatigued, no taste, blurry vision, aching limbs. Then only worse things from there, but he hadn’t experienced those yet.

Being put under anaesthetics felt similar as well, albeit less painful. When equated to drowning, it was the slipping away into complete numbness. And then waking up after was spitting out water. Breathing and living again. Tecchou found himself having a bitter taste in his mouth after surgeries as well. It was only logical for his brain to connect these two events, and thus it didn’t let him forget that night.

Tecchou sighed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand to distract himself from what he had seen, and to get his day started. A few messages from the Hunting Dogs group chat that he vaguely skimmed over, but nothing worth of note was in there. Only discussions about their schedule. No bigger missions and no news from Tachihara, who was currently undercover with the Port Mafia.

Tecchou put his phone back and peeled his blanket off his body. Stretching, he got out of bed and walked to his bathroom to get ready, settling on getting breakfast before starting his day.

The quality of cafeteria food had greatly increased over the years. Or maybe the cafeteria had fried Tecchou’s taste buds enough to trick him into believing it was good. He couldn’t tell. It was better now, sure, but even after all these years, anything that wasn’t strict cafeteria food tasted like the best thing ever. Even simple cereal in the morning.

Eating out felt like being treated like royalty, even adding waiting staff to the mix whereas the people serving him at the headquarters were grumpy fellow soldiers who picked up the spoon once every few months when it was their turn to cook.

In general, life had gotten more comfortable. Even before he had joined the Hunting Dogs, Tecchou had enjoyed a single accommodation with nobody to share it with. However, getting to this point had taken him a few years and many dissatisfied roommates in the barracks. Nowadays, five years after joining the elite military squad, he enjoyed his own on-base apartment. It was just the right size and it had become his home.

It also meant living close to the other Hunting Dogs. Fukuchi had his own place further away but still spent a few nights on military grounds but not with the rest of the group. The rest all shared one floor, although Tachihara hadn’t slept over in a while. Meaning that, usually, it was just Tecchou and the two others. The group had their own shared common area but spending too much time with each other usually drove them insane pretty quickly.

Some of them had homes beyond the walls of the headquarters but Tecchou had never bothered with that. Living on military ground was all he had known for the better part of his life and he didn’t see a point in changing that.

He pulled a pair of pants onto his legs and grabbed a t-shirt, then thought for a moment as he put it on. Some of the Hunting Dogs’ messages had indicated that he was wanted readily available in their common area rather than the cafeteria, so he decided to head there immediately.

With more duties filling up his schedule nowadays, he’d had to reschedule his morning runs to night runs. Switching his routine like that had been bothersome at first, but he managed.

Tecchou pulled on a thin jacket and walked out of his room to the common area.

He’d just sat down on the couch with his cereal when Teruko entered.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
“Morning. You look tired,” Tecchou noted at the sight of her eyebags and uncombed hair. Teruko would usually get ready before coming out of her room, or at least change out of her pyjamas, so this behaviour was off.

“Yeah no shit,” Teruko groaned. “Who would’ve thought that Fukuchi would leave so much work behind!” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. She rubbed her face, then opened the fridge and took out a milk carton. “I bet he was just waiting to go on that trip, so he kept slacking off, and now all of that work is on me!”

Tecchou could empathise with her. He’d never been one to enjoy paperwork either, so he couldn’t imagine doing all of what the Commander usually did.

“I swear… When he comes back…” She mumbled something to herself, then slammed the fridge shut. “I hate being in charge of this stuff. There was a bank robbery but they only stole the coins they had stored, not a single banknote, Yen or otherwise. This is a job that’s so beneath what I usually deal with but since the police haven’t been able to solve this case yet and asked the legendary Fukuchi for god knows what reason, I now have to look over all of this shit! Ugh!”

Tecchou hummed and returned his attention to his breakfast while Teruko sat down on an armchair and grabbed her laptop with a drawn-out sigh. The coin situation was also something Tecchou had heard of. Like Teruko, he didn’t yet see a point in why the Hunting Dogs had to be involved in it. Still, it was best not to question that and keep doing his work.

“Good morning.” The next person to enter the room was the newest member of their group. Fukuchi had picked him up about a year ago and he had established himself as a member of the group with ease.

“Morning,” said Tecchou and Teruko in unison, neither of them really looking up at him.

He yawned and took to the fridge as well, pulling out some orange juice and leftovers to reheat in the microwave. Once he had pressed a few buttons, the newcomer walked up to the couch to sit while he waited for his food.

“Oh, Tecchou?”
“Hm?”

“I sent it into the group chat but you didn’t reply—” The light criticism in his voice made Tecchou freeze for a moment. He had bad texting habits, he had to admit that, as he usually replied with one word only or an emoji, which people sometimes found bothersome. He couldn’t particularly remember being addressed in the chat, but he could have missed that due to his scrambled thoughts. “Are we still on for training today?”

Right. He remembered their talk about that a couple of days ago. Tecchou nodded, as he didn’t have any other duties in the morning.

He nodded briefly.

“Of course, Sigma.”

~~~

Tecchou raised a wooden sword at his opponent.

“The usual?” He asked. “No abilities, until defeat?”

Sigma clenched his weapon. Despite looking a bit nervous, there was still a determined light in his eyes. “Bring it on!”

Their swords clashed. Tecchou looked closely at Sigma’s footwork, how he kept his balance, which one of his feet carried more of his weight. That alone could tell him a lot about what his next move would be. Learning to conceal that was a good way to victory that Sigma hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Just like that, Tecchou saw an opening. A moment where his balance was off while Sigma attempted a slash close to Tecchou’s chest with his weapon. Tecchou swept him off his feet with ease and his opponent hit the ground with a pained groan.

“Am I still that obvious?” Sigma sounded defeated and blew a strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail out of his face. His disappointment would only last so long, as Tecchou knew him to be someone to get back to his feet very quickly. He wouldn’t be a Hunting Dog if that weren’t the case.

“You’re a fast learner,” Tecchou told him. “It’s not obvious in your face and eyes anymore, but in the way you move. Your balance and footwork are easy to read.”
“I see.”

Sigma grabbed the hand Tecchou offered him and let him help him stand again. While he wiped dust off his pants, Tecchou positioned himself again.

Due to his skill, Tecchou’d always had a peculiar way of fighting and moving: he didn’t use traditional steps and stances like other people fighting with swords. He had learned them, sure, but using the surprise effect when fighting enemies who were familiar with sword fighting and thus expected differently from him or tried to read his moves in general, put him at an advantage. Besides, those new techniques he’d created were more useful for his skill in addition to being unique to him.

That was both good and bad for Sigma. For one, he couldn’t copy Tecchou so he was unable to improve his techniques that way. But, on the other hand, he would be able to learn how to read more than just traditional body movements while fighting—because nearly none of their opponents would be sword fighters. No one enemy moved and fought like the other.

“Ready?” Tecchou asked.
“Yeah!”

Sigma hadn’t gained that much combat experience before he had joined the Hunting Dogs. It was odd, and Tecchou’d had concerns about Fukuchi’s choice to take him in immediately without putting him through prior training, but he hadn’t wanted to question his commander’s authority and decisions, especially when the others seemed to be on board with it.

While swords weren’t his strong suit, Sigma had always been decent at handling guns and he could hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. Against beginners, at least. His actual strength was in his exceptional talent to use his environment and the people around him to his benefit. He could disappear in a crowd, then make the people around finish his job for him. It was something that had saved the Hunting Dogs’ missions a few times if Tecchou remembered correctly.

What made Sigma special and made him stand out among other soldiers was also his determination. Like the other Hunting Dogs, he knew what he wanted to fight for. And he would do so, no matter the cost. Sure, other soldiers wanted to protect their home, their country, or their loved ones. But Sigma had grown to be a protector to the Hunting Dogs themselves. A man who wished for somewhere to belong was given exactly that and, in the process, they handed him the tools he needed.

But for now, he was getting his ass handed to him by Tecchou.

Sigma landed on the floor with a yelp. This time, he didn’t stand up immediately but lay there and stared at the ceiling, panting.

“I’ll never beat you in a fight,” Sigma sighed.
“Then be glad you won’t have to.”
“Have you ever lost a serious battle?” Sigma asked as he sat up. “To anyone?”

Tecchou pondered the question for a moment while Sigma stared at him expectantly.

“Not during my time as a Hunting Dog.”
Sigma’s eyes lit up at the implication of Tecchou’s past losses. “So it’s possible!”

Tecchou huffed. “Everyone loses from time to time.” He didn’t know if any of his fights could be considered real losses. He was still alive, after all, but he’d lost important comrades in the past—and that certainly wasn’t winning.

He didn’t offer his hand to his friend this time. Although, Sigma didn’t abuse his ability to get information out of the other Hunting Dogs. He had never done that before as he deeply valued their trust. But it had become a fear of Tecchou’s over time. It wouldn’t be the first time he was around someone who could easily find out a lot more about him than he intended to let on.

However, the first person hadn’t used an ability but signals like heartbeat and pulse.

Tecchou shook his head and reached out for Sigma after all. He couldn’t let any distrust win, that would only lead to death.

“You’re doing well,” he said while pulling him up.
“Thank you.”

Tecchou asked if Sigma wanted to continue and Sigma agreed, the determination not quite defeated yet for today.

Just as they were getting back into their positions, the door to the training room flew open.
“Tecchou! Sigma!” Teruko yelled, panting. “Answer your damn calls, I had to run all the way here!”
“What is it?” Tecchou whipped his head around, instantly alerted by the urgency mixed into her angry yelling.

“Tachihara,” she started and pulled out her phone, “has a potential mission for us. Meet me at HQ and fast.” With that, she was gone again, like a whirlwind sweeping through.
“She looked stressed,” Tecchou commented. “We better do as she says.” Sigma nodded and they grabbed their stuff before leaving as well.

The meeting room was busy. Teruko was bent over a map, viciously studying it with military personnel who frequently worked with them.
“Sigma, Tecchou, sit down!” She ordered as soon as her colleagues entered the room. They once again did as they were told.

Teruko gave some final orders to the woman she was talking to, then walked over and sat across from them.

Visibly tired, Teruko sighed but wasted no time.

“I got a message from Tachihara thirty minutes ago. At Tokyo International Airport, a criminal organisation is attempting to smuggle explosives.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “They’re neither affiliated with the Port Mafia, nor a threat to them, and thus they wouldn’t benefit from interfering. So, they’re staying out of it.”

“What about those detectives?” Sigma asked.

“The Armed Detective Agency? We have no contact with them, nor do we have any information about them planning to take on the case. And it doesn’t matter, they wouldn’t necessarily slow us down if they came. My question is if we want to step in?”
“Of course!” Tecchou reacted immediately but Teruko shushed him before he could say anything else.

“The Commander entrusted me with the commando for the days he’s gone. I cannot reach him at the moment so it’s safe to assume he is currently involved in combat himself.”
“So?” Sigma asked. “Why not give us this mission then?”

“I—” Teruko stopped herself. She moved her cap to scratch her head, looked at the men in front of her, then pulled her cap in the correct position again. There was something unspoken in the air. Heavy. And Tecchou didn’t like not knowing what it was, but he wouldn’t pressure her either.

Although he was curious and wished to know everything, he understood that there were things superiors had to keep from him. It wasn’t due to lack of trust—oftentimes it was just formalities.

“Alright,” Teruko eventually sighed after looking back and forth between Sigma, Tecchou and the map. “We will stop this.” Teruko turned to the rest of the people present. “Get us a ride to the airport as fast as possible. Sakura, please have our communication tools ready. Rin, inform airport personnel with the code 2-3-1-1.”

People ran in all directions in an organised chaos where everyone had their task and exactly knew what they were doing. To an outsider, it would look messy, but even footsteps on the ground were planned carefully by these people so they wouldn’t bump into each other.

“Do we know what exactly we’re looking for?” Tecchou asked, keeping his cool despite the people’s voices mixing loudly. “What do they look like? Organisation?”
“We’re the Hunting Dogs.” Teruko tapped her nose. “We’ll use these! Now go!”

A fancy way of saying they had no idea who or what they were dealing with. The bare facts were all they had, but Tecchou had worked with less. This was fine.

Tecchou and Sigma ran on the fastest way to grab their equipment. They slipped into their uniforms and took their swords at lightning speed before sprinting to the roof where Teruko waited for them in a helicopter.

“Took you long enough,” she teased as her two colleagues hopped on. After receiving the OK from Teruko, the pilot took off.

The good organisation was something Tecchou loved about his job. Everyone he worked with had their place and was an expert in their field. Pilots had years of experience, their IT personnel were able to access information almost instantly, and they were always provided with new equipment at lightning speed.

Whenever something had to be done fast, it all fell into place smoothly. Tecchou was sure that, without these people, their missions wouldn’t even be half as successful. Of course, he was the one doing the fighting but he would not be able to do his job without the others doing theirs, so he always made sure to thank them properly.

Tecchou looked out the window. Some soldiers who were training outside looked up curiously but their faces and bodies shrunk quickly as they rose higher into the sky. Buildings and vehicles became miniatures of themselves the further away they got.

“Do we have a plan besides using our noses?” Sigma’s voice pulled Tecchou’s attention back into the helicopter. He glanced at Sigma, who was redoing his ponytail, then at Teruko.

She made a thoughtful face. “The airport will create the illusion of operating as normal although people won’t be allowed to leave. There will be no evacuations but all flights will be delayed until further notice because of ‘technical difficulties’. It was a pain getting them to agree to that, and I had to lie to them about a lack of immediate danger to civilians.”

She sighed and rubbed her face. “I doubt that they would smuggle explosive material through security screening, carry-on luggage or checked bags. They must get it on the plane in a different way. International flights only, as Tachihara mentioned that the explosives would leave Japan. Either that or unregistered or private flights.”

Tecchou shook his head. “That’s still too much for us to check. That could take hours, if not days!”
“Ugh, I know!” Teruko rubbed her face in growing frustration.

A momentary silence spread through the aircraft in which everyone thought about what else they could do.

“Tachihara didn’t have much time, so all the information I got is: smuggling explosive material. Internationally. The location. The Port Mafia acquired that information from an informant at the organisation providing the explosives, but that doesn’t narrow it do—” Teruko stopped and her lips slowly twitched into a smile.

“No… that’s it!” She exclaimed with a girlish sparkle in her eyes. “I got it now!”

“What is it?” asked Sigma.

“The other organisation!” Teruko yelled excitedly as if that was making it any more obvious. “A small criminal organisation that has been on the rise over the past year. Black Rain. They were involved in the robbing of a laboratory a few weeks ago. That lab stored their stuff in certain containers. Ten were stolen. Two weeks ago, five of these containers were confiscated by the police. Some of which held explosives.”

“Then we’re looking for the other five containers?” Tecchou understood what Teruko was getting at.

“Exactly!” She pulled out her phone and accessed pictures of the confiscated material. Five crates, full metal, all about a cubic metre in volume. Painted in a simple yellow with the name of the lab company in red. “It still means we have to search a lot, but at least we know what we’re looking for.”

She did a triumphant jump as if she’d already put the criminals behind bars. “We got this!”

Tecchou and Sigma nodded. With the new lead, this couldn’t be too hard.

~~~

They landed about a kilometre away from the airport and approached it by car. Tecchou looked up into the sky. It was getting cloudy, high chance of rain or even a heavier thunderstorm. He hoped this wouldn’t take too long, he didn’t like getting his uniform wet as it was quite uncomfortable.

“We’ll split up upon arrival. Keep in touch over the intercoms. If you find anything or anyone suspicious, approach with care,” Teruko told them. “Fight if necessary, but always contact the others and inform them about your location. Got it?”
“Yes!” answered Sigma and Tecchou in unison.

It was starting to seriously get darker outside, even though the car’s display told them that it was only 12. Tecchou sighed. By the time he opened the car door and got out, he could feel raindrops on his skin. He squinted into the sky and had a few fall on his face. They were cold, at least, which was good.

“Are you alright, Tecchou?” Sigma frowned until Tecchou nodded and turned to look at him.
“Yes.” He brushed off Sigma’s concern. They had no time for this. “Teruko, where are we going?”

The Vice Commander circled the vehicle and walked over to them. She handed them their communication devices and Tecchou slid it into his pocket after putting the earpiece in.

“Terminals two and three are for international flights. Some domestic flights are handled at two as well, which is annoying, but for now, we’ll send one person there. Tecchou, you go to Terminal Two. Sigma will go to Terminal Three. I’ll stay inside and watch over everything there,” Teruko ordered. “We’ll stay in contact with each other. Got it?!”

“Yes!”

“I’ll also be in contact with the airport staff in case they notice anything else over CCTV. Now then.” She began stretching her legs. “Hurry up, boys.”

Tecchou ran. He had seen a map of the airport earlier, so he had an idea of where his destination was. Passing giant, inanimate iron birds was a lot more intimidating up close when there was a threat to be fought and the weather was so bad. They stood in his way, he could run past them but running beneath their metal stomachs was faster, so Tecchou did exactly that. He ducked his head underneath their empty and filled intestines and glanced up at them when they shielded him from the rain momentarily—a kind act from something appearing as a predator.

As he was running, it started pouring. Water splashed up but not yet high enough to reach above his boots. Still annoying. But Tecchou wouldn’t be allowed to call himself a Hunting Dog if either of those things bothered him this much. They shouldn’t in the first place, but he couldn’t help it.

He increased his speed, still far from his limit. Not a single person was in sight, as all passengers and staff had been asked to return inside under the impression there were technical issues that didn’t allow any flights to take off. Other flights still had to land, but only if absolutely necessary. If possible, they were landing at other airports or delayed taking off until the situation had been cleared.

So, the air was quiet. No planes aimlessly circled above, eliminating any distracting noises.

Tecchou drew out the map of the airport in his mind and placed a moving arrow as his own person somewhere around Terminal One. He recognised some of the places and corners even though he didn’t understand the signs with numbers and words that carried meanings only people working with them regularly could decipher.

Tecchou saw Terminal Two in the distance and increased his speed slightly. Just a moment later, he was there, thinking about the best way to approach this.

“I’ve arrived at my destination,” he informed the others.

“Me too,” Sigma answered.

Teruko said that she received their updates. When no other instructions were given, Tecchou began his search. He walked to the first plane that hadn’t begun loading yet.

When he was looking for those crates, he could be sure that they wouldn’t be loaded onto the airplane with the rest of the luggage, so he hopped onto the inactive conveyor belt to check the inside. Nothing yet. One plane done, however many to go.

The second one had already been loaded with luggage. Tecchou felt a bit bad about potentially damaging civilians’ personal belongings but he wanted to be fast. So, while rummaging through everything, he was a bit rougher, kicking some suitcases around. But again: nothing.

This felt like a waste of time. When the next plane gave him no results either, Tecchou could feel himself grow increasingly agitated. Usually, he was a patient person. But with the noise from rain on bland asphalt and metal, as well as his uniform beginning to stick to his skin from the relentless downpour, the feeling of discomfort grew exponentially. And so did the pressure to find anything as time went on.

He couldn’t imagine that the people doing the smuggling would just sit by waiting for their precious cargo to be found. They had to make a move, or they already had. But he didn’t know what that might look like.

The materials being smuggled. The act of smuggling itself. Tecchou almost wanted to slap himself. Investigating normal passenger planes was useless. The cargo would have to be unloaded after the flight, and when done by regular staff at the airport abroad, the crates would stand out as both unusual and way too heavy. Unless the entire plane was highjacked and stolen… Meaning it could be passenger planes again—and that raised the stakes as civilians’ lives were on the line. Tecchou groaned. He had no leads. His mind was going in circles.

Jumping down again, he took a few deep breaths. Focus. He needed to focus…

“Tecchou!” Teruko yelled into his ear. It almost hurt.
“Yes?” he answered immediately, snapping out of his current state.
“In a garage with the letter C at your Terminal! The cameras are malfunctioning. This could be—”
“—a lead. I’m on it.”

New life flooded back into Tecchou’s body. He could feel his lungs take in oxygen and release air again. His muscles flexed and relaxed as he sprinted around a corner to reach the garages. A, B—ah! There!

As he came closer, Tecchou slowed down his pace until he was sneaking towards it, hand on his sword and ready to unsheathe it if he needed to. The gate itself, painted blue with a big, white C on it, was closed, so Tecchou approached the door next to it. It was barely open.

He pressed himself against the wall to peek through the crack. Although the lights were on, Tecchou couldn’t see anybody in his limited field of vision. No crates, no people. But a small plane was parked there. He couldn’t hear any engines running, though.

After waiting for a few more seconds, Tecchou reached out with one hand and carefully pushed the door open. It creaked a little, much to Tecchou’s dismay. But no other sounds followed. He entered after carefully checking if anyone was hiding behind the door pressed to the wall, but nobody was there.

He found himself in a wide garage with white fluorescent lamps flickering from the ceiling. Only one plane was here: the one he had already seen from the door. It was dry, so it hadn’t been outside since the rain started. Tecchou looked down. No wet footprints led into the garage.

Looking up, he searched for the cameras. He found one above the door and one in each of the top back corners. There were no signs of damage visible to him but he also didn’t see the red lights blinking, so they weren’t recording right now. Odd. But it could still be a coincidence.

Tecchou fully entered the room to walk around the plane, but as soon as he had set foot past it, he froze. A pit opened up in his stomach and it threatened to swallow him whole within a heartbeat.

His hand reached up to his earpiece. It was an automatic and fully trained reaction of his otherwise paralysed body.

“Teruko,” he whispered. “Sigma. Terminal Two, Garage C. Please hurry.”

There was no point in checking for vitals. No, these two men were dead.

Their skulls had been split vertically down to the neck, cutting them into two halves. Then, the left halves of both heads had been severed and reattached to the wrong body with a thread that barely kept their skin sewn together. Blood ran down the line where they had been removed and attached. For the right man, the thread appeared to be a bit loose and created a gap between the half that belonged to his face, and the half that didn’t.

Tecchou looked down. The rest of their bodies were intact, except for one hand of each person. They were holding hands, albeit forcefully kept together with that same thread.

Tecchou swallowed thickly to suppress the feeling of needing to throw up. He had no idea what kind of display he was looking at here. It was the easiest to write it off as the doing of a sick individual, rather than thinking too much about it.

A copious amount of blood was splattered on the floor and walls, some of it still wet, painting the picture of this brutal murder scene.

The clothes the men wore were those of ordinary mechanics but there was no way of telling if they had actually worked here or were criminals undercover. They would find out eventually though, he was sure of it.

As much as he hated the display in front of him, he was now sure that he was on the right track.

Tecchou unsheathed his sword and approached the plane. It was maybe ten metres in total length, only had one door at the side, and fit two seats in the front, then space for transportation in the back.

He reached out for the door handle, but just as his fingers touched it, something grabbed him by the back of his uniform. In the next moment, Tecchou found himself being tossed across the room and hitting the wall hard. All air was knocked out of his lungs, leaving him coughing and gasping for air. A rush of panic flooded his entire body and he could physically feel all of his senses sharpen.

He hadn’t heard anything. There had been no noise, the person who’d sneaked up to him hadn’t even existed the moment before.

There was no doubt: he’d found their target. He needed to fight. He needed to survive.

As his heart was pounding in his ears, he felt strength in his muscles and his brain made the pain disappear completely.

He was on his feet again a second later, now face to face with the person who had thrown him so easily.

Tecchou’s sword almost slipped from his fingers as his lungs lost all their air once more. He stumbled back and had to put a hand on the wall behind him to hold himself up.

“Sorry, but I can’t let you touch this,” the man in front of him said, pointing his thumb at the plane. He didn’t sound sorry at all—mocking was a better word to use. His voice sent deep shivers down Tecchou’s spine and he felt like he was going to throw up again.

His eyes were glued to the man, he didn’t even blink. Didn’t breathe. Everything about fighting, surviving, and regaining strength had left his mind all at once. He almost thought that he would never regain his ability to breathe and just die on the spot.

“What? Did my partner’s work scare you this much?” The man chuckled but it lacked all warmth. “He called it ‘Love: One and the Same’. I’m still unsure of what he meant by this, but what goes through his head is beyond me.” He shrugged. He wore a suit but it had no blood on it. No suit jacket, only a vest. All in colours that complimented his hair. Tailor-made and expensive.

He had straps around both thighs with knives and a gun as well as more knives at his hip. Weapons. Right. Tecchou had one as well but it was slipping from his fingers.

Maybe he’d been poisoned. He surely felt like it. Any moment now he would start spitting blood. This was the only explanation for his weakness. Tecchou felt like his legs were about to give it. He tried to clench the handle of his sword but it shook along with the rest of his body.

All he could hear was his own blood pumping faster and the man’s voice. His presence in this room—despite his slender build and standing a few metres away—felt like he took too much space. His shadow was massive, almost reaching out for Tecchou all on its own.

Tecchou felt like a cornered dog and like he was suffocating. He’d never felt like this when faced with any enemy.

“Come on, say something!” The man encouraged, clearly amused by the situation. And yet, his voice carried disappointment. As if he was expecting something from Tecchou.

The initial shock wore off. Or rather, Tecchou forced it down with all the strength he had. He looked at the man. Scanned his face, then his body from head to toe and then back up. The long fingers that impatiently tapped on his arm when he crossed them, the slight pout. It was so familiar.

He felt dizzy. Floaty. Tecchou’s mind spun through different emotions until he settled on one that he didn’t know he had kept inside his mind. And it was definitely not one he thought he’d ever be able to apply to a situation like this.

Tecchou swallowed before he rediscovered his ability to speak. As he opened his mouth, a tiny bit of life re-entered his body.

“I’m so glad I found you, Jouno.”

The criminal’s entire demeanour changed. His expression was like a mask that had carried a fine smile on its lips. But now it crumbled, warped, and continuously transformed, as though the man was unsure about what to feel or which emotion to display.

“What?” he almost whispered. His body lost the careful tension that had kept it together, after just one sentence holding the weight and force of an atomic bomb. “Tecchou—is that you?”

Like Tecchou, he looked like he needed to support his body. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to reinstall the mask, regain control over his body. “Why are you—?”

“Tecchou!”

In the corner of his eye, Tecchou saw a reflection flash like lightning during a thunderstorm before something flew through the air towards Jouno. Tecchou couldn’t move. He could only stare as Jouno reacted.

With quick fingers, he pulled a knife from his thigh. And in one swift motion, Jouno deflected the sword Sigma had thrown at him with immense and inhuman speed. Jouno being able to match that was incredible.

The sound of metal vibrating was loud, and so was the ringing of the bell dangling from Jouno’s earring. It shook Tecchou to his very core.

But it created an opening. It was obvious and logical for Tecchou to react. He should raise his sword and let his skill incapacitate Jouno. Kill him. Cut him to pieces and let him bleed dry next to the corpses left behind by whoever his ‘partner’ was.

However, Tecchou did none of these things. He could only watch as Sigma’s sword flew through the air and landed blade-first high up in the wall, cutting a hole into it and staying there, stuck. While Jouno let his knife disappear again. He pulled his vest back into place and straightened it with his hands.

“It’s a shame that we were interrupted, Tecchou,” Jouno said. “We couldn’t quite catch up… But I don’t particularly like this new company, so I’ll be taking my leave.” There it was again. Tecchou almost shivered at the sudden shift in the way Jouno acted and carried himself. With seemingly no regard for Sigma’s presence at the entrance, he walked towards the airplane.

He opened the door without turning around. As he entered the plane, he touched an earpiece Tecchou hadn’t seen before.

“Gogol, we’re leaving.”

Out of nowhere, a man appeared in the aircraft out of a golden shimmer. He glanced at Tecchou with a devious giggle, then turned the plane’s engine on. It roared in Tecchou’s ears and made him lightly dizzy but he couldn’t cover them.

The garage’s gate began to open, revealing heavy rain and thunder in the distance.

“Tecchou!” Sigma yelled, but as soon as he moved, a foot appeared behind him—without a leg, from the same golden shimmer—and kicked him with a force that had him fall to the ground.

Jouno, who still stood in the door of the plane, laughed as he retracted his leg from the light.
“Sorry, but you can’t come with us.”

He elegantly slid through the opening into the plane, then closed it. Just a second later, it started rolling.

The man whom Tecchou assumed to be Jouno’s partner Gogol smiled and waved at him as he drove by.

Sigma jumped up from where he was lying on the floor to chase after the plane, but a fist appeared out of nowhere. Barely dodging, the Hunting Dog stumbled for a few steps, before a punch connected with his jaw.

Sigma spat blood on the floor, then changed his course and ran towards Tecchou.

Tecchou’s eyes were on the plane, staring blankly. His sword was loosely in his hand, as he had no use for it anymore. When Sigma grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, it almost slipped from his fingers.

“Why are you not going after him?!” Sigma sounded desperate, worried, angry. All at the same time and Tecchou was sure that all of these were emotions directed at him. “Do you know that guy? What’s going on?! What did they do to you?”

But Tecchou stayed silent. Without moving his head, his eyes followed the plane.

Jouno. The man with him. The murders. Smuggling.

He tried to make sense of it. He couldn’t. There was no explanation for how they had ended up here.

His thoughts were short and uneven, and so were his breaths when he shook Sigma off and ran.

If he couldn’t make sense of it on his own, he had to ask Jouno.

Tecchou ran as fast as he could, eyes always on the plane. He didn’t even blink when raindrops fell onto his face and burned in his eyes. Water splashed up to his knees and thighs and it was a horrible feeling, but he kept going.

He couldn’t hear anything except for the plane’s engine, driving a bit faster than he was running. So, he pushed himself further and increased his speed. Until the muscles in his legs ached and screamed for him to stop. But he needed to catch up. If not, then—

The plane’s wheels left the ground. Tecchou immediately grabbed his sword tighter.

“Plum Blossoms in Snow!”

He held his breath as his sword changed its shape and got longer. It cut through air and split raindrops in two, until it pierced the metal of the plane. He created a hook at the end of his blade to not allow it to slip back out.

Then, he let his sword shrink and pull him after the plane.

It surprised him that he hadn’t been disrupted by the ability of Jouno’s partner. He wondered if it was intentional, or if there were certain limitations to his ability. Keeping that at the back of his mind, Tecchou opened the clip of his cape and rid himself of the piece of clothing to allow his body to pass through the air more easily. It was heavy from the rain, so it also acted as a hindrance to his movement while fighting.

A shrill voice began to yell at him through his earpiece, so he yanked it out, shutting Teruko up in the process. The wire loosely dangled from his collar but Tecchou ignored it.

He reached the airplane but almost slipped when he grabbed onto the door Jouno had used before him. His heart skipped a beat but with his hands holding on tightly to the handle of his sword and the door, nothing could happen. He glanced down shortly. Twenty metres above ground turned into thirty in a matter of seconds.

Before Tecchou had time to let himself wonder until what height he could survive a fall, he tore his eyes away.

He could barely see due to the sky getting even darker and rain mercilessly pouring into his face, but he couldn’t wipe it out of his eyes. The entire situation was dire, but he’d been through worse. He would do this to talk to Jouno again.

Tecchou pulled his sword out of the plane and let it return to its original form.

Now, with no footing and only one hand keeping him from falling, he clenched his jaw and cut a hole into the wall of the plane, big enough for him to slip through.

He was immediately greeted with Jouno’s fist, but he ducked just in time, as he had expected that. Getting to his feet, he faced his former friend.

“Jouno,” he started, unbothered by the attack. “What are you doing here?”
“Exactly what you’re trying to arrest me for!” Once again, he sounded mocking and like he didn’t want to talk to Tecchou at all. His earlier words expressing pity at their conversation being cut short contradicted this. Everything about Jouno was contradictory.

Tecchou’s eyes darkened.

“You told me that—”

Jouno groaned. “I turned my life around? Got a new job? That’s what this is, Tecchou. It’s nothing personal. Now get out of this plane and leave me alone!”

A kick that went nowhere. Tecchou wondered if Jouno was trying at all. They switched positions with Jouno now standing with his back to the opening Tecchou had cut. The wind messed up his hair and made it dance around his face in dark silver waves with red foam.

The stormy air was loud but more bearable when Tecchou took a few steps back, bumping into a crate. It didn’t look like what he’d expected: the crates were black and thus had been hardly visible to him, but some of the original colours peeked through, as they had only been lazily painted over.

Tecchou returned his attention to Jouno. He had to yell over the noises of the plane and the wind to make sure he was heard, and even just to be able to hear himself.

“Why, Jouno?”
“Why what?! Why did I joi—”

“Why did you lie to me?” Tecchou asked.

There was no answer. Jouno simply knitted his brows together in an emotion that Tecchou couldn’t deduce.

The man flying the plane giggled. “Jouno, should I take care of that guy for you?”

“No,” Jouno answered coldly. “Keep your eye on where you’re flying.”

He turned back to Tecchou. “I don’t owe you the truth. I don’t owe you anything. Get out of my business or I’ll kill you.”

Tecchou tightened his grip around his sword. “You made it my business by breaking the law!” With his foot, he reached for one of the crates and kicked it in Jouno’s direction.
“Gogol, the cargo!” His opponent yelled as he stepped out of the way with ease. The crate slid through the opening, but Gogol’s skill looped it back inside.
“Get it all out of here, I’ll catch up with you later!”

“Alright, alright,” Gogol sighed. “I don’t understand why you get to have all the fun, but…”

Around Tecchou, the cargo disappeared in rings of gold, before Gogol himself took his leave, letting the plane continue without a pilot.

The second the other criminal disappeared, the sound of an explosion ripped through the sky. The entire plane shook dangerously and Tecchou was sure his heart stopped for a moment. He stumbled and had to hold himself up by the wall in order to prevent himself from falling while his ears rang.

He shot a panicked look over to Jouno—maybe to check on him, maybe worried that Jouno might seize this opportunity to attack—but he was covering his ears with a pained expression.

“That bastard…” Jouno cursed under his breath.

While he was distracted by that, Tecchou jumped forward. He dropped his sword and swung his fist at Jouno, but his target dodged with ease.

“You aren’t even trying to kill me,” his opponent spat.
“You weren’t either!”

Another contradiction. Jouno had a dangerous look to him. He was determined to hurt, maybe even kill. Looking at him like this brought the pictures of his crimes back to Tecchou’s mind. Disembodied heads and limbs, disembowelled stomachs. Mostly done when the victims were still alive but without a surgeon’s precision, they died fast and were freed from their misery. He thought of the witness reports and interviews with families of victims. The rare survivors.

And yet, Tecchou could not see that murderer in him. He was still Jouno.

Jouno, who had worn his school uniform sloppily. Jouno, who had been scolded by teachers and got into trouble at school for putting his feet on the table. Jouno, who had yelled at Tecchou for chewing on his pencil while thinking.

Nothing of this child was in this man, and nothing of this man had ever been in this child. But they were one and the same. And Tecchou had to realise that.

“Jouno, what happened to you?” he asked with his eyebrows almost meeting on his forehead. His mind spun around Jouno’s crimes and their childhood. Around Jouno’s arrest. Everything.

But he didn’t get an answer.

Jouno instead spun around and let his foot connect with Tecchou’s chest. The soldier flew back and against the wall before falling to the floor, shaking the entire plane again from the sheer force.

He was given no time to get up, as Jouno was on him, wrapping his hands around Tecchou’s throat. Before he could restrict his breathing, Tecchou kicked him off with a strength that sent him flying.

Jouno tried to catch himself but his hands could not find anything to hold. Anything that brushed past his fingers was out of reach a moment later, when increasing turbulence hit the plane.

With a look of shock, he stumbled backwards out of the plane.

Tecchou’s eyes widened.

“Jouno!”

He was fast. He dashed forward, threw himself on the floor and slid to the opening. His hands grabbed Jouno’s just in time to keep him from falling some two hundred metres onto concrete.
“Jouno, hold on tight, I’ll pull you up!”

His hands were slippery from the rain and he couldn’t find anything to grab onto. Nothing for a hand, nothing to hook his foot in. His sword was on the other side of the plane.

After going over his options, he looked down at Jouno dangling helplessly from the edge.

The aircraft shook. Tecchou’s ears hurt when another loud explosion sounded through the air, and the plane flew a sudden, sharp turn.

The side from which Jouno hung and where Tecchou was lying on his stomach, holding onto him, sank towards the ground. Tecchou cursed as he let one of Jouno’s hands slip from his to stop himself from falling.

“I’ll pull you up, try to grab the edge of the wall, okay?!”

There was no point in being a soldier with inhuman strength when he would simply slide out of the plane if either he or Jouno moved the wrong way. And, with their side dipping, that was even harder. Tecchou glanced in the direction the plane was heading. They were on their way back to the airport and Tokyo Bay, he could clearly see the stormy water from here.

“Tecchou. Let me go,” Jouno ordered. There was his usual bite in his voice. His hair was still moved by the storm albeit being drenched.
“I’m not letting you leave again!” Tecchou’s breathing picked up and his thoughts started spinning. He felt hot despite the rain while Jouno was slipping from his hand bit by bit.

There was no doubt in his mind that Jouno could survive that fall. It was high and would kill anyone, but with Gogol’s ability, Tecchou was sure that Jouno would live. Furthermore, he didn’t look like someone who feared for his life.
Tecchou had seen many criminals who claimed to not fear death, but once it was upon them, terror would always catch up to them. Only occasionally broken by anger directed at him, Jouno exuded a calmness in the face of death that made Tecchou feel numb.

That anger broke out again.

“Let me leave again?!” Jouno yelled. “Wasn’t it you, who left the first time? Turned away and never dared to look back when you were needed? But now you crawl back like a dog and cling to me like a parasite.”

Tecchou froze as Jouno laughed in his face, but his voice carried no joy. “I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit. I’m sorry, but you have to crash in this plane without me. Goodbye, Tecchou. Maybe we’ll meet again in the ruins of this world.”

“No, Jouno!” While his name left Tecchou’s lips, the weight hanging from his hand suddenly disappeared and he only felt air pass through his fingers. Cold, empty.

Tecchou couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t jump after Jouno, as that would be the death of him. He couldn’t reach out to save him, as his arm wasn’t long enough. His sword was too far away from him, the plane was too fast, and Jouno was falling.

So, all Tecchou could do was stare after him with a silent scream leaving his lungs.

Tecchou stared after him until he disappeared behind stormy clouds and rain. Until his vision blurred.

His chest hurt. Horribly. Tecchou put a hand over his heart and closed his fist around his uniform as though that would make the pain go away. Even though air entered his lungs, Tecchou didn’t feel like he could breathe. He felt dizzy, his head heavy.

Gone. Jouno was gone once again, he’d lost him, let him go, and turned away from him once more. Tecchou didn’t know what was true and he couldn’t concentrate to figure it out properly. He was only left with the lonely reality of Jouno falling to escape from the grip that was supposed to save him.

The plane shook so hard that Tecchou was forced to grab onto something and it drew his attention back to reality. He looked down again, noticing way too late that he was rapidly approaching the sea and losing height.

He blinked. Once, twice, to regain composure and get himself to focus but it barely worked. His hands shook as he grabbed his earpiece and stuffed it back in.
“The plane,” he said, unsure if anyone could even hear him due to the distance and the water on it, “is going to crash into the sea.”

There was no more he could say. And nothing he could do. He had no idea what part of the plane had broken off earlier, or whose doing that had been. He suspected the explosion to be caused by Gogol, but it could have killed Jouno, his partner, as well, so he wasn’t entirely sure. Nothing made sense to him anymore.

A breath barely made it out of his lungs. It took him all of his strength to push himself off the floor. Not because of his weight or the turbulence, but because his entire body felt infinitely fatigued. Almost as though he was still being poisoned, and the substance ate him alive from the inside.

He moved to the plane’s front and had to force himself into the pilot’s seat when the aircraft turned to nosedive. Red lights blinked frantically, but Tecchou did nothing to make them stop. He didn’t even try to pull a lever or grab onto anything to pull the plane up again. It would be futile, anyway.

The pressure on his ears changed and they cracked.

The unruly, grey waves came closer, so Tecchou closed his eyes.

He wondered what would kill him: the impact, the metal parts of the plane piercing his body, or the saltwater drowning him painfully slowly.

For a second, that thought stayed in his head. He wondered if he cared about death. He couldn’t tell. There was nothing to be gained from it except for the pain in his chest to disappear, but there was nothing to lose either. Jouno was gone again, lost. Was there anything else he had?

A cracking in his ear. Tecchou’s head shot up when it wasn’t the pressure on him changing, but a voice reaching him. It was distorted but he recognised it. Bits and pieces of Teruko’s voice distorted and were interrupted by heavy cracking and white noise. But it was her. She was still trying to reach him, desperation clear even though he had no clue what she was saying.

Tecchou wasn’t alone after all. A second voice appeared, fainter but no less prominent in Tecchou’s mind. It was yelling things he couldn’t make out. But he knew it was Sigma, someone who needed him—and Tecchou felt the same.

He pressed the button on his earpiece. There was no way for him to know if his voice would be delivered just as broken, or if it was only a problem on his end.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

Death had to wait just a bit more, as Tecchou wasn’t done yet. He still had people who cared about him and who he cared about, and questions he needed answers to.

He jumped from the seat. Being inside the plane would most likely drown him. It would pull him down to the bottom of the sea, never to be discovered. Just letting go of the seat was enough to have Tecchou slam into the back of the plane. The force pressed the air out of his chest, but he managed to grab the edge of the hole he had cut out.

He couldn’t die yet. Jouno was still out there, he knew it. He still had Sigma and Teruko, Fukuchi and Tachihara. After everything he had accomplished, he couldn’t just give up. There were people he had to support, and he needed to keep doing this job. Because if he didn’t do it, who else would? He had let his feelings get the better of him again. And this time, it had almost cost his life because he had felt like throwing it away on a whim. It was almost pathetic and laughable.

With all of his strength, Tecchou pulled his body out of the plane and sent himself into a freefall towards the sea—

—There was pressure on him. Water filled his lungs when he tried to breathe. It was salty, disgusting, and heavy in his body. Even though he had his eyes wide open, he couldn’t tell where he was or where he could find air.

Tecchou couldn’t remember how he got there, he must have blacked out upon impact.

In rising panic, he frantically searched for a hint of where he had to swim to survive, but his strength was quickly leaving him.

He had always hated being in the water—all it brought was death.

He forced his eyes to stay open and saw in horror that flames began rising on the surface of the sea. They were far away, too far for him to reach, let alone look for an opening.

As he sank deeper, he thought he saw corpses driving past him. One of them with red tips to white hair and a bell earring. Tecchou faintly smiled when he realised it was Jouno whom he would be joining.

Chapter Text

[5 years ago. Noon. Just another day.]

“Jouno! You’ve got a visitor!”

Jouno curiously lifted his head at the voice. He truly had not expected anyone. Maybe one of his former subordinates had come to see him? Although those criminals had no sense of community, Jouno thought, so he discarded the idea again. Maybe a former enemy, then? Someone who wanted to hurt or even kill him? That sounded more plausible and more exciting.

He wondered if the prison guards would try to save him if someone threatened to take his life—he doubted it.

There was a very particular type of criminal the police would never raise a finger to protect. Jouno was sure that went for most of them, judging by how they treated even people with small offences or ones who hadn’t committed any crimes at all, but he was sure that they would take it a step further with him. Most of the inmates here wanted him dead. Most of the people working here wanted him dead. Every single guard and officer he had encountered here would put their ‘morals’ aside to pay someone off to kill Jouno, or, preferably, strangle him to death themselves.

It was quite entertaining to hear their rage. During his stay, he really wanted to drive someone to that breaking point. Make someone act out in real, unpolished anger. He had gotten many fellow inmates into that state but getting guards and policemen who thought so highly of themselves over the edge to where they trembled and cried like little children in front of their bully just sounded so entertaining.

Reducing someone to anger and violence, and then listening to their spiral into realisation, desperation, and eventual regret and shame—yes, Jouno decided that would be worth staying here for.

He knew his time in this prison was limited, so he’d have to act fast. It was a good plan for after he’d checked out the visitor.

He stood up and let the guard put handcuffs on him.

“Not as talkative as usual, are you?”

The thing about the police was that they got cocky and annoying the second they thought themselves to be above someone. Jouno’s silence was seen as obedience as if he wasn’t currently fantasising about fifty ways to kill that man—fifty ways he could effortlessly make reality as well, so they weren’t mere fantasies.

“I’m just curious about who could possibly be visiting me?” Jouno mused. “Your wife, perhaps?”

There it was. Anger.

It was realised in a light rise of temperature in the man’s face. His ears and cheeks were burning. His hands began to tremble as they fumbled with the handcuffs, and he had to flex his muscles to control them. All that after what Jouno considered a weak, offhanded comment he couldn’t care less about. Truly entertaining.

“Careful, Jouno. Or I’ll make sure there will be no food delivered to cell 8-0-6 for the next week.”

He didn’t sound half as threatening as he probably believed himself to be. It almost made Jouno giggle, but he suppressed it. He patiently waited until his cell door was unlocked, then he was guided down the hall and through several strictly guarded areas.

Jouno knew exactly where the rooms for visitors were and intended to walk there, but the harsh grip on his shoulder forced him to keep going. His guard didn’t comment and didn’t tell Jouno any details about where he was taking him, so a hint of nervousness about the uncertainty made itself known in Jouno’s chest. It was still something small enough that he could suppress and ignore, so he did exactly that.

They continued their walk for a minute or two more, and Jouno found himself in front of a room for interrogations of ability users. Those were heavily supervised and often equipped with weapons that could be activated from the outside and kill the criminal immediately if they had to. None of these things were of any concern to Jouno, but he knew he should still be weary of them.

“Your visitor is in here,” the guard told him. “Show him respect or you’re dead.”

He opened the door and led Jouno in.

Unsure who to expect, Jouno was trying to think of how to present himself. He could walk into a room and make his presence known in a dominating, threatening way that made people shake in their boots. He could also put on the sly and cold persona of an assassin, whose existence would only be revealed once it was too late.

Both could be useful for intimidation, but when he finally got to observe the person in the room—their pulse and breathing, their aura and presence—Jouno decided to stay neutral for once. He obediently let himself be seated on one side of the table and let his handcuffs be connected to the surface at a safe distance from his visitor.

“I’ll take my leave,” the guard said with a short bow. Then, he was gone. He closed and locked the door behind him, leaving Jouno alone with his visitor.

His presence was one that Jouno had barely observed in many other people. If any at all. There was a certain danger to him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was a man who demanded respect, and Jouno felt like it would be better to act accordingly, at least for the time being.

“Jouno Saigiku,” the man started. “My name is Fukuchi Ouchi. I’m a member of the military.”

Jouno’s head perked up at that name. Of course he had heard it before. ‘Member of the military’ was rather humble for a man like him, since Jouno knew him as ‘a hero from the Great War’… he wondered if someone who had participated in such an atrocious part of history could ever be considered a hero—but that’s why nobody ever asked for Jouno’s opinion, so he kept it to himself.

“It’s an honour,” he lied instead.

Fukuchi laughed. “No need for false formalities.” His laugh was loud, almost genuine. It made it harder for Jouno to find his heartbeat, which—no, there wasn’t any to begin with. Jouno leaned forward with a frown. Curious. His visitor was undoubtedly alive, but Jouno was completely unable to locate a heartbeat.

Had his visitor been anyone else, this would freak him out to some extent.

“You’ve come prepared,” Jouno challenged.

“I see you’re really as good as they say,” came the answer in a calm, mildly impressed tone. “An implant that prevents you from hearing any noise from my heart.”

So, a test?

“I can tell far more about you than only by your heartbeat, you know?”

Fukuchi leaned forward as well and placed his elbows on the table. He folded his hands in front of his face, close to his mouth. It changed his breathing to directly land on his hands, heating his gloves a little, and his voice came out with a slightly echoing and muffled sound to it.

“And I’m glad that you can, as I will use that to my advantage.”

Jouno was interested. Prison life had been boring, and this was way more than he had hoped for. So, he waited for Fukuchi to continue the conversation.

“You’re supposed to be transferred to Meursault in a few days. Does this make you nervous?”

Jouno tilted his head to the side. Really interesting.

“They can’t keep me in a room without suffocating me,” he noted with a nonchalant shrug. “If I wanted to, I could leave that place in mere minutes.”
“Meursault has its ways of keeping you there, trust me. But tell me, Jouno: if escape from a prison as heavily guarded as Meursault is easy... How did you get arrested in the first place, and what is keeping you here?”

It was impossible for Jouno to guess where this conversation was going. He had the facts swirling around in his brain but he couldn’t quite connect them. As much as he could read people’s bodies (with the current exception of Fukuchi’s heart), he couldn’t read minds. It was a weakness most if not all people on Earth possessed. Jouno hated it. It was especially bad when his conversation partner was as skilled in deception and just the act of talking as Fukuchi was.

“That annoying brat with the stupid ability. Port Mafia. Freaky bandages, as people have told me. He played a role in my arrest.” Jouno sighed, bothered by the humiliating memory. “As for why I’m staying… there are many reasons why a criminal chooses to stay in his cell. A change of wallpaper, wanting to get someone to stop going after them, erasing themselves from someone’s memory. Making connections. Some get sentimental, want to serve their time and rehabilitate. Or protect someone.”

“And which one of these would it be for you?”

“Well, I’m making connections right now, aren’t I?” Jouno smiled.

A nod from Fukuchi. “Very well.” He was silent for a moment. Despite what he had said, Jouno felt bothered by the lack of heartbeat. There was nothing he could observe to fill the pause and it aggravated him more than he would like to admit. Furthermore, it felt quite unnatural.

“At this very moment,” Fukuchi started, “the microphones for this room and our conversation are disabled. They have been this entire time. The guards will think that it is a technical problem, and they trust me enough to not interrupt us. What do you make of this?”

“What is this, a job interview?” Jouno joked but his face became serious when Fukuchi showed no reaction to his words.

The folded hands close to his mouth—he was hiding his lips from the camera. Since Jouno was sure that lipreading wasn’t as effective as people often claimed and feared, he assumed it to be a tactic to gain his trust.

‘Trust’ was not a concept Jouno was familiar with, not in his profession, not in prison. But it intrigued him. The man in front of him—this ‘hero’—conversing with a criminal was interesting to him and something worth his time.

“What’s the job?” he outright asked.

“I’m glad you understand, Jouno. I am indeed looking to get you out of this place. But the details will have to be discussed after the fact.”

Jouno raised an eyebrow. Was there anything at all that could stop him from taking this offer? Killing him was hard, and if things didn’t work out, he could always get himself arrested again to flee. If he would be able to kill such a seasoned and strong soldier was still up for debate, but he wouldn’t write it off as completely impossible. Maybe, a change of pace and wallpaper would do good for him. All in all, there wasn’t much to lose. But what was there to gain?

He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “What’s in it for me?”

“Your files told me that you enjoy the sounds of people suffering. Is that correct?”

A fine smile appeared on Jouno’s lips as he nodded.

~~~

[Present day. 15:30. Friday.]

“Scream for me.” Jouno’s shoe struck the man’s jaw, giving him nothing more than a pained grunt. It was bland. Lacked feeling. Plain boring, even.

“This won’t do,” Jouno groaned. He leaned back and scratched his head. Maybe his instruction hadn’t been clear enough. After all, his Chinese was a bit rusty. Circling the airplane mechanic he had strapped to a chair in his private garage next to his home, he thought about what to do with him. There were many options (all of which ended in death, of course; he couldn’t let him live) but Jouno was unsure about what he wanted.

He barely felt so indecisive and restless. Doing his usual routine was boring but he also didn’t feel in the mood for something more extravagant.

With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed a small knife from his belt.

“You’ve got a little dirt under your fingernails, let me help you out.” Jouno slid the knife underneath the man’s nail. He tried to move his fingers away, wanting to hide them by curling his hands into fists, but the tight wires around his wrists didn’t allow him to.

Jouno pushed the knife further with ease, making sure to go slowly. The screams that reached his ears made him light-headed.

There was something so—satisfying and beautiful in the pain of others. And Jouno alone had control over it. Figuring a person out, finding what made them scream and wince and beg for their life was almost an art form, in his opinion. Jouno became the centre of their world at that moment. People could grow to love him within a second if he showed them just a bit of mercy with a mild smile. Humans were something to play with but the fact that they kept the tiniest bit of individuality was what Jouno loved the most about them.

Gogol was right there with him, usually. He was more of a visual person who liked to rearrange bodies and put them into a form that was pleasing to him. They got along because they complimented each other in that regard and understood each other’s ways.

Jouno leaned back and wiped some sweat off his forehead, leaving the man in front of him panting with a sliver of hope that he was being let go.

The sounds of pain disappeared, just for that moment.

‘I’m so glad I found you, Jouno.’

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

“Shut up,” he mumbled to himself and at a voice and person that wasn’t even there. Fumbling for a different knife, he reached forward to drag the blade’s flat side across the man’s knuckles. Teasing, receiving short breaths of panic before Jouno cut off four of his fingers on the right hand, all in one go.

A scream. Good. Jouno tried to imagine Tecchou tied to this chair. Tried to imagine how he’d slowly break apart under the relentless pain Jouno could put him through. He moved on to Tecchou’s left hand. This time, cutting off his fingers one by one.

He expected screams. Cries for help. But he didn’t get them.

‘I’m so glad I found you, Jouno.’

The knife cut through the air before Jouno could stop himself, slashing the man’s throat and letting blood splatter everywhere. For a moment, Jouno listened to the gurgling sounds before they died down. And they left Jouno in silence.

However, Tecchou’s voice did not come back to haunt him. It was quiet. Finally.

Jouno leaned his head back and let his neck crack. What could Gogol possibly have to say about that? He made a thoughtful face when his partner walked up behind him.

“You’re so unconcentrated today!” he whined. “You killed him way too fast!” Jouno couldn’t be bothered to explain himself right now. Gogol was far too nosy, so he would figure it out sooner or later and question him about it relentlessly.

“We’re in a hurry.” Both of them knew that this wasn’t the reason, but Jouno really didn’t want to talk about this. “Did you get that plane to work?”

“Yes, yes! I just don’t understand what we need it for!”

Jouno shrugged. “Transportation via your skill would be much easier, you’re right. Dostoyevsky never disclosed what he needed that plane for... Either way, Kamui told us to commence with this task. Got it?”

Gogol nodded eagerly. “Alright!” he sang. He’d do anything if the name ‘Dostoyevsky’ was mentioned. In that way only was Gogol a simple person.

They got the plane ready and loaded the cargo before Gogol sat down as the pilot and Jouno as the co-pilot. Jouno could hear the rustling of lots of paper when his partner pulled out a map to study it intensely.

“It’s not every day I fly this route…” He sounded excited.

Jouno wondered where Gogol had learned to fly a plane in the first place, but the man was secretive about his past. And so was Jouno, so who was he to judge? All he knew was that they were quite close in age. No other personal information had ever been exchanged.
“I don’t care what route you take as long as you get us there in one piece.” Jouno crossed his legs and put his arms behind his head while leaning back in his seat. He hadn’t managed to get any sleep during the night after the airport, so he was hoping to take a nap.

“Ohhh…” Gogol giggled. “Don’t worry, I know how we’ll do it!” His laughing continued and Jouno raised an eyebrow at that, wondering what about it was so funny, but it suddenly died down. As if someone had flipped a switch, Gogol fell completely silent. A certain coldness reached Jouno like diving into the sea.

He lowered his arms and frowned in suspicion.

“Gogol?” he questioned.

Even after having known this man for three years and closely working with him for two, he still found Gogol to be unpredictable. His moods were erratic, he didn’t behave or react like other humans would. The beating of his heart was the only thing giving him away, and so was the temperature of his body and his blood flow, but even those could be misleading.

Gogol was complicated.

And that was exciting. Although it did bother Jouno sometimes and could irritate him to no end. Right now, it made his fingers itch uncomfortably for an answer.

“Jouno.” His voice was deep, and monotone, lacked his usual rise and fall in pitch that imitated a bird’s song. “Do you believe that soldier to be dead? Or alive?

Jouno uncrossed his legs and straightened his back.

“Tecchou?” He pondered the question for a moment. Although he did not wish to admit it to himself or anyone else, this was something he had actually thought about quite a bit. Jouno made a face at that. “I don’t think he’s dead…” he started. He found his own voice to be too serious, so he put on a more casual and conversational tone but he still felt tense and his voice was almost quiet. “Something about his body has changed significantly. He was able to catch up with the plane, after all. As far as I know, this is connected to the Hunting Dogs programme and the military’s human experimentation after the Great War.”

Saying that left a bitter taste in Jouno’s mouth. Just the term ‘Great War’ did. It tasted bad. Rotten and dead.

Tecchou had always been a dedicated soldier, and Jouno knew that he had given his body and mind voluntarily, happily even. He hated that thought.

“He could survive a crash into the water…” Jouno spoke slowly and trailed off at the end when he thought about Tecchou sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Just like he almost did in that river all those years ago. Jouno wondered if—

“You should kill him, then.”

The question of ‘why?’ was on his tongue for a moment but he swallowed it. He could think of various answers Gogol might give him—ranging from this ‘ridding himself of emotions’ thing he kept going on about to simply ‘entertainment’—but the reason didn’t matter, did it? The outcome would always be the same.

Jouno tapped his chin with his finger, giving the impression of being deep in thought.

“Yeah,” he agreed after a while. Gogol cheered but shut up when Jouno told him that he was being too loud. “We still have about a year until Kamui wants to start his plan.”

Jouno leaned back again. This time, with a smirk. “I’ll toy with him until then. I bet he’ll be entertaining.”

Gogol grabbed Jouno’s arm and shook him. “He’ll try to come after you, I’m sure of it! There was so much in his eyes when you two were chatting, I can’t wait to see us ruin—”

“Not ‘us’, Gogol,” Jouno interrupted with a finger close to his partner’s lips to shush him. “Me. You’ll be watching from the side.”

“Oho!” Gogol let go of Jouno’s arm and clapped his hands twice. “I’d love to witness this spectacle of yours.”

Jouno chuckled as he let it play out in his head. He knew Tecchou. Used to know him, at least. And from their encounter at the airport, he was wondering if he had changed at all since then. It would be easy to push him to his limits, Jouno had no doubt in his mind.

“Gogol.” He stood up from his seat as his partner stared after him, slightly confused. “Do you still have those small cameras?”

~~~

His hands were calm this time. Tecchou remembered the number as well as he did his own. He hadn’t dialled it since that day five years ago, but it had always been at the back of his mind. Locked away in a dusty box that Jouno had told him not to open, and Tecchou had respected that. But now, things were different. Or at least, Tecchou told himself they were.

He typed in the number. Clicked on the green button. Raised his phone to his ear. The usual sound of a dialling number was played, then nothing.

An automated voice told him that the number he was trying to reach wasn’t in use.

Tecchou turned off his phone and put it on the nightstand of his hospital bed. He was outwardly calm and unbothered, exactly how he wanted to appear. Right now he was alone, but he could never be sure when someone would come to visit. And in those moments he didn’t want to be seen losing his composure, even when he felt like it at this very moment. His blood was loud in his ears and his fingers twitched, so he balled his hands into fists.

A day had passed since the incident at the airport. Sigma had saved him from the water and dragged him back to shore, and he had woken up in the hospital about six hours later. He hadn’t slept since, as he’d been waiting for alone time to call Jouno. Or try to call him, at least. It was useless.

Tecchou allowed himself a sigh. Nothing more. Not the screams that were building up in his throat or the tears of long bygone days that he felt burning behind his closed eyelids. Letting those feelings out would be a grave mistake. It kept on happening and Tecchou was mentally punishing himself for it. Nobody had ever actually punished him for his emotions, but he lived by what his superiors had told him when he was younger: they had no place in the military. So, he swallowed them.

A knock on the door made his head perk up again.

“Yes?” His voice still sounded rough but it was getting better. He hadn’t been talking much and focused on not moving to help his recovery.

Teruko walked into the room. Like everyone else, she looked concerned. A bit confused. He had seen too many people look at him the same way today.

She had already visited him shortly after he had regained consciousness, but they hadn’t had the chance to talk much due to all the nurses present.

“What is it?” he asked to encourage her to get over with whatever she had to say.

After closing the door, she walked over to Tecchou’s bed and sat down on the chair next to it.

“I talked to the nurses and Sigma about what happened,” she started. “They’re glad you didn’t get in contact with the explosions or the fire, that could’ve caused more problems. Your injuries are all minor, that’s good.”

Tecchou nodded. His body didn’t take heat well—he doubted that normal bodies took burns any better, but they had always been something that caused him and the other Hunting Dogs an abnormal amount of needed medical attention and recovery time. It was a pain, so he was truly glad he had fallen so deep into the sea instead. Even though he’d woken up in a hard-to-suppress panic after. But he was sure nobody had noticed anything.

When he saw how Teruko hesitantly gnawed on her bottom lip, he commented, “You have more to say.” He got a sigh in response.

“You haven’t been talking to anyone…” Her voice was quiet as though she was making sure nobody else could hear her, despite the door being closed.

“But I’m talking to you right now.” Tecchou frowned and cocked his head to the side, earning a drawn-out sigh from Teruko.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said almost sharply but she regained her composure quickly. “I need you to tell me: did you know that criminal? And do not lie to me.”

“No,” Tecchou lied. Even the smallest detail could help the talented people they worked with figure out who Jouno was, and they could track him down. And Tecchou couldn’t allow that, not yet. So, he decided to stay silent. He didn’t know this man’s name, he didn’t know if he possessed an ability or not—which Tecchou had only discovered during their latest encounter, but he would think about why Jouno had kept that from him another time.

“You can’t protect him like that, Tecchou,” Teruko warned but her voice didn’t sound angry. She was almost concerned. “Who is he? You’ve been weird ever since you ran into him.”
“I’m not protecting him. I’m simply upset that I failed this mission. Failure means punishment, and I’m concerned about that, so I’m trying to figure out a way to chase him down.”

Massaging the bridge of her nose, Teruko groaned.
“Let me re-phrase this: there are things connected to this man that you don’t wish to talk about. And that’s fine.” She paused shortly. “But, as your superior, I need to make sure that you don’t do anything insanely stupid following this incident. Got it?”

Tecchou nodded. “I’ll make up for my mistake today by arresting him.”

Teruko buried her face in her hands. “This is exactly what I meant by ‘stupid’! He’s already left the country, so chasing him is useless.”

“Why? The Hunting Dogs have been abroad before.”

But Teruko didn’t let him argue with her.

“I can’t let you go after him. I know you were trying to reach him before I walked in. I’m telling you to cut it out!”

Tecchou could only stare at her. Usually, Teruko was understanding of his feelings, even though he had never been one to share them often. And this time, he couldn’t. If it was to protect Jouno, which he knew he shouldn’t do, or because it was too personal and cut too deep—he just couldn’t do it. Although he still wondered if he could change her mind if he told her.

Told her about the guilt, the accusations, how the blood on Jouno’s hands suddenly felt like it splattered onto his as well. Those were all things Tecchou hadn’t thought about before but they felt so real to him now. However, his mouth remained shut and his throat tied.

“Don’t look at me like that…” Teruko almost sounded pleading when their eyes met. Tecchou didn’t know what expression he was making right now, so he couldn’t stop it. He just kept his gaze on Teruko.

She appeared to be tired as well. Probably had to work all night, filed reports, started the military’s search for—

“Are we still searching for him? The military or any other forces?” Tecchou asked. “Or will we participate in another country’s search?”
“Like I’d tell you that…” Her voice reflected her face’s exhaustion. Taking over Fukuchi’s duties always took a toll on her. Teruko enjoyed carrying out missions, hunting, and fighting. Surprisingly, these activities didn’t take her out like paperwork did. Tecchou would find that odd if he didn’t feel the same way. Maybe they were both weird, as he was sure that the average person would not relate to them.

“No, we’re not participating.” She bit her lip. “I talked to the Commander on the phone, and he insisted on taking over this case once he returns and told me to stay put.”

“Why?”

“Are you questioning the Commander’s choices?” Her voice lacked its usual bite when someone challenged the Commander’s leadership and decision-making. Even though he did, Tecchou shook his head. Making sense of Fukuchi’s actions and words wasn’t always something he was capable of, but especially right now, he was more of a mystery than usual.

“You should let it go, Tecchou,” Teruko told him, almost softly. “Let the past rest.”

Clenching his fists, Tecchou stared at her again. He realised that Teruko was getting exactly what she had wanted out of this conversation. She’d wanted information, and she pushed the right buttons to get those. In a way, Tecchou felt betrayed—but parts of it were due to his own incompetence and current emotional state. Teruko only made use of these things, like he’d usually expect her to with criminals and the like.

Her reactions, however, were genuine. This wasn’t about her job; this was a personal topic. So, Tecchou decided to keep going.
“I can’t.”

Teruko stomped her right foot on the floor and threw her head back in frustration. “You’re too damn stubborn!” she cried. “You don’t understand, we—”

“No, Teruko.” Tecchou’s desperation grew. He could feel it in his throat, threatening to break out. His voice shook slightly when he continued talking. “I’m telling you this, not as a fellow soldier and Hunting Dog, but as a friend. I know him. Or at least, I used to. And I feel responsible for what happened to him. So, I will bring an end to this, no matter if you or the Commander decide to stand in my way.”

Teruko could barely hold the eye contact. She was searching for something in his eyes. Found it, and it disappointed her. She lowered her gaze, playing with the hem of her uniform.

The room fell silent but Tecchou stared at her the entire time as he waited for her to react again. He was worried that this admission might have been a mistake and that it would be used against him. But Teruko wasn’t like this, he told himself. Even though they had never really talked about their lives before the Hunting Dogs, he had always had the feeling that he could trust her with this.

He just needed her to see the importance this had to him. Get her support, although he doubted that she would go behind Fukuchi’s back like that. The fact that Fukuchi had ordered against a search for Jouno was odd, but he had probably seen his team’s failure and wanted to kick their asses as soon as he returned to Japan. Their inability to catch Jouno was embarrassing. So, he wanted whatever country he’d found refuge in to continue on their own, in order to show less weakness. All without admitting fault.

“I see…” Teruko finally sighed and bit her lip before replying, “As a friend, I’m going to stand behind you and your decision, whatever that will end up being. As a friend, I’d advise you not to go, but if that is the path you choose, I’ll support it.” She paused and finally looked at him again. Her eyes carried understanding as well as something Tecchou could only identify as a deep melancholy. “As a soldier and Hunting Dog, this conversation never happened.”

A weight fell from Tecchou’s shoulders but he didn’t dare to change anything about his demeanour. It wasn’t something worth celebrating anyway.

“Thank you, Teruko.”

She only nodded wordlessly and stood up from her seat. As she walked to the door, Tecchou thought to hear her suck in a shaky breath, but he truly couldn’t tell. Teruko didn’t turn around before leaving the room, and Tecchou was alone once more.

Chapter Text

When night laid its veil over the military base, Tecchou decided to dismiss himself and leave his assigned room where doctors and nurses had watched over him. He didn’t have the authority to do so, but nobody would question it, as he had done that plenty of times in the past.

Still, he was careful not to be seen by anyone when he silently escaped the building and walked over to the one he resided in, constantly looking over his shoulder and holding his breath when he thought he heard something.

It was quiet everywhere, so the hallways felt ghostly. Not something unusual for Tecchou since he’d always had a habit of wandering around when nobody else was awake—either because he had to get up early, or because he couldn’t sleep—but now it felt lonely in a way. No familiar faces greeted him, and nobody stopped him for a chat, even though Tecchou wasn’t the most talkative. It was a heavy silence, and Tecchou wished it would end, despite it benefitting him right now.

He took the elevator, then entered the Hunting Dogs’ floor. Walking past Tachihara, Sigma, and Teruko’s rooms felt odd. All doors were closed and he couldn’t hear any noises behind them, but he knew that at least Sigma and Teruko were there. Perhaps even listening for him with their ears pressed against the wood. Tecchou sighed and unlocked his room.

He slipped out of the grey sweatpants and white t-shirt he had been given and replaced those with black jeans, a different, simple t-shirt, and boots that reached up to the middle of his shins.

Stretching a little, he tested if those clothes were good for fighting and he deemed them just right. The boots were heavy but not heavier than the ones he was used to. They would be good for combat as well, he thought, as they would protect his feet during kicks and give those some extra force.

Tecchou walked to the left of his room, where several swords lay neatly on a dresser. One might argue that Tecchou’s skill would make it less likely for him to break his weapons, but that wasn’t the case. His swords lost their shine pretty fast due to how much training he decided to do with them. Adding to that, real fights were often unpredictable, so he had broken many blades in combat as well.

He looked at the swords in front of him. All of them had been manufactured with care and precision, just for one single soldier. Personalised for his hands and perfect for his fighting style.

They even came in different sizes under the excuse of ‘different purposes’, but in the end, it was all the same: to fight and kill. Despite that, it didn’t feel right to take one with him. They weren’t worth being in bloodied hands, as that would stain them horribly. Tecchou had killed countless people before but the newfound blood was entering his skin and flesh through the smallest pores and infected him. It was a disease he was afraid he could spread to anyone and anything he came in contact with.

Tecchou’s hand hovered above the handle of a shorter one, hesitant. Although he wasn’t touching it, he could clearly feel the metal under his fingertips. It was comforting, cooling, and offered a sense of power as well as reassurance. A sword gave him justice, it made him right. Even when he clearly hadn’t been.

Tecchou balled his hand to a fist, then stretched his fingers again. He would make things right though. He was sure of that.

Grabbing the sword, he sheathed it with a steady hand.

It would be hard to hide underneath his clothes if he were to carry it at his hip, so he took a shoulder holster usually used for guns and tied the sheath to the back.

After sliding on the holster, his sword dangled down his back parallel to his spine, albeit fully straight. Tecchou made a face staring at himself in the mirror. The shorter length allowed him to still move freely without it becoming too visible, although it was a bit uncomfortable. Sitting down would also be a problem, but at least it would be mostly unnoticeable under his clothes.

Tecchou grabbed a dark coat from his closet. It was heavy but not too thick and thus nothing he could use for winter. Teruko had made him buy it, as she claimed he would look good in it, but Tecchou had never found a good occasion for it. It was either too warm or too cold, so its purpose and existence had escaped Tecchou.

But now, it was perfect. The loose coat fell beneath his knees and almost met the length of his boots, and it hid the sword perfectly. When he moved, it could seem a bit unnatural from behind but nothing to be too worried about.

Tecchou checked if the holster was hidden well, and he was satisfied with what he saw. Finally, he looked at himself in the mirror again.

It was no more than a glance—he didn’t allow himself more than that—but it was enough to see the bags under his eyes from the lack of rest when the nurses had instructed him to sleep. Usually, that would be nothing for him. He could go on for much longer, but he needed to stay focused now. And thus, it might become bothersome. Nothing to think about right now, though. He would sleep when the timing was okay.

Tecchou took a deep breath. Looked around his room. At his bed, the small private kitchen he had barely used, and the door to the bathroom.

His feelings about this place had always been clear. He’d never had many possessions while staying here, which some thought to be impersonal and like he didn’t see it as a home. However, Tecchou would disagree. The people he lived with had undoubtedly made this place his home. It had been the most comfortable one he’d had since he was eleven.

With his heart heavy as memories drifted through his head, Tecchou walked towards the exit. He put his hand on the doorknob, then stopped.

Quickly turning back and crossing the room, he reached under his pillow and pulled out a key chain. It was the head of a bunny, smaller than the palm of his hand, that had once been white and pastel pink but greyed over the years. The fur had lost its shine and became dull, but it was still soft. Tecchou closed his hand around it for a second, as though holding onto it would help him gain strength, then he slid it into his pocket. His phone went into the other one, although he was sure he wouldn’t have it for long anymore.

He quickly grabbed a knife and tied it to his holster as well.

At last, he left his room. When he walked down the hall, he tried to not look back. There was no guarantee he would lose his life during this mission, but he was unsure if he’d ever be allowed to return to his team. If the mission didn’t kill him, then he might be executed by his higher-ups. If it didn’t end in execution, the lack of maintenance surgeries would tear his body apart.

They were a gift to uphold justice, and he would use the strength given to him to arrest Jouno. He would keep holding onto that until it killed him; until justice itself would take his life.

With quiet steps, he approached the infirmary on their floor. It was a place where the Hunting Dogs patched up each other when wounds weren’t deep enough to bother a doctor with, so it was small and only had one bed as well as a few things for light uses.

Tecchou turned on the light and ignored the first-aid utensils, against his better judgement. He pulled out the key for the cabinet holding medication and let his eyes wander over various pills. Painkillers, stuff for nausea, ones that would save Sigma when his allergies kicked in during spring. A bottle with a strange, handwritten label caught his attention.

Bingo.

Tecchou pulled it out. He shook it and listened to the rattling of pills inside, then opened it to look at how many were left. A good amount, he thought. He checked the label once over. It had a strange name. A long string of words that had been explained to Tecchou along with the instructions on how to take them, but he had long forgotten how to read it or what it meant. It was something not available to the general public, only to the Hunting Dogs, so it didn’t have a simple name like other medications obtainable at a pharmacy. It was only given to those with enhancement surgeries.

The pills weren’t a substitute for the maintenance but merely something to suppress the pain and other symptoms, as well as signal their bodies to keep going just a bit longer. Push them further. The only thing that could stop the process of a decaying body was the next surgery, delayed by a few days at most. Once a month. A missed surgery meant death.

Usually, they used the medication during long missions when they had no immediate access to their ability engineers. Tecchou wished he didn’t need them, as he connected them to the excruciating pain he would experience every time. With a sigh, he pocketed them as well.

“Are you planning on coming back?”

Tecchou almost jumped. He pressed his lips together to suppress a scream but then cleared his throat to regain his composure. Feeling a bit caught, he turned around to his unexpected—or rather totally expected—company.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Sigma had raised both his hands in defence, an apologetic look was written all over his face.

“It’s fine.” Tecchou placed a hand on his chest and felt how his heart calmed down again. “I was lost in thought, didn’t hear you.”

The same worried expression that Tecchou had seen in Teruko lay deep in Sigma’s eyes.

“Did she tell you?”
Sigma nodded. “Yes.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Despite the short time they had worked together, Tecchou truly appreciated Sigma’s company. He was a good person, who had grown on everyone quickly.

However, right now, something was heavy in the air between them. Something unspoken. Tecchou thought to know what it was—would you like to come with me? He didn’t fear rejection. What he feared was Sigma saying yes. And Tecchou couldn’t do that to him.

“I won’t stop you from going,” his coworker said eventually. “I wouldn’t be able to anyway, I couldn’t beat you in a fight.” For a split second, the smallest smile tugged at his lips.

Tecchou shrugged. “If both of us went all out, used everything available to us, all dirty tricks, then—”
“That’s not the point.” Sigma chuckled for a moment. It was short and carried a note of melancholy. “Do you think they’ll allow you back in the Hunting Dogs?”

“There’s no way of knowing…” Tecchou slid his hands into his pockets, found the keychain and closed his hand around it. Losing people… Leaving them… A part of him didn’t want to go. “I don’t know if the Commander will understand. I doubt that Teruko would lie to him in my favour, and I don’t expect you to do so either. We’ll see what will come of this.”

Sigma nodded. “I understand. I’ll try to see what I can do. The Commander will most likely talk to me and Teruko about this, I’ll put in a good word for you, Tecchou.”

“I appreciate that. As long as it doesn’t put you in a bad position, alright?”
“Yes, of course.”

Tecchou would miss him. Sigma was easy to talk to and he was more empathetic than lots of other soldiers. That wasn’t exactly a quality Tecchou thought he needed in a comrade, but he’d grown to appreciate it.

Once again, they stared at each other for a while until Sigma sighed.
“I’m not sure if I want to treat this like a goodbye or not,” he admitted. “If it ends up being one, then I’d regret not saying goodbye properly.”
“And if you do it properly and I come back, then we can laugh about it later,” Tecchou noted.

“You’re right.”

Tecchou pulled his hands from his pockets and let Sigma sink into his arms. He was a bit smaller than Tecchou, so he had to make himself taller until Tecchou leaned forward a little to make it easier. Sigma’s arms held him close; he was warm. Smelled like home and sweet shampoo.

Tecchou breathed in and out. “Than—” But Sigma was faster.
“Thank you, Tecchou. For everything,” he said. “I’ll do my best to support you from here. If you can, please contact me. Let me know you’re still alive. That man is dangerous, so I’m worried.”
“I know.” Sigma had seen Jouno as well. Or rather experienced him and the person he’d turned into. Unlike Tecchou, he hadn’t known Jouno before this and he wasn’t sure if that made the encounter better or worse. “Thank you too, Sigma.”

They let go of each other. The sudden lack of contact felt cold, but Tecchou didn’t want to show it.

“Goodbye.” Tecchou offered a short smile, then he started walking.
“Goodbye, Tecchou.” Sigma stayed behind.

While Tecchou felt like he wanted to linger in the building he called home for a little longer, he found himself at the exit way too quickly. Cold night air brushed past him when he came closer, as someone was holding the door open for him. The sight didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

Teruko didn’t seem to want a drawn-out goodbye. “Be careful,” she simply told him. “I won’t be able to support you from afar. You’ll be all on your own. Most I can do is talk to the Commander but I will not go against him.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, Teruko.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Why did you decide to let me go after all?”

“Because you’re an idiot and would have gone anyway.” Her tone was playfully annoyed but then she became serious again. “I know that this is important to you. This man is—or was. Whoever he may be. I trust you know what you’re getting into and what this means for you and the rest of us. I trust you, Tecchou.”

She smiled. It wasn’t her usual childish grin, but a genuine, almost shy smile that reached her eyes and carried fondness. Tecchou returned it.

“I’ll miss you, Vice Commander.”

“Don’t get too sentimental.” But her voice was soft.

Teruko reached out and tugged at Tecchou’s sleeve, so he crouched down and allowed her to pull him into a hug. It was shorter than the one he had shared with Sigma, but no less meaningful to him.

She patted his back, then let him go. “Gimme your phone, I don’t want them to track you with it.”

“Right.” Tecchou reached into his pocket and put his phone into her open hand. “Don’t do anything stupid with it,” he told her earnestly, but Teruko interpreted it as light teasing.
“Oh, we’ll see about that!” She pocketed it. “Remember the other tracker.” One of her fingers pointed at her nape and Tecchou nodded.

Then, he let his hand dive into his coat again until he held the keyring with the one to his room and everything else he needed one for.

Tecchou watched as Teruko’s eyes widened for a moment before acceptance set in. It was bitter, though, since she pressed her lips into a fine line. Wordlessly, she opened her hand again and accepted the keys. Neither of them said anything because this action was enough: chances of Tecchou returning were low.

Teruko stared at her hands and the keys for a moment, then back up at him with a mild nod.

After waving shortly, he turned to leave. His legs felt unusually heavy, and so did his chest. It was mostly the unknown that scared him—what he would find at the end of his journey. The night was cold and made the hairs on his arms stand up in anticipation. Being alone on missions wasn’t uncommon for Tecchou, but he didn’t prefer solo ones either. The Hunting Dogs worked so well because they were a team, and he would definitely miss that.

“Tecchou!” Teruko called after him and made him stop dead in his tracks. “China.”

“What?” He turned around.

“There was a murder near Wuhan, China. Committed by a man with white and red hair.”
Tecchou raised an eyebrow. “Were you not going to tell me that?”

Teruko sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “The video footage worried me. We didn’t get recordings at the airport, so I only had what Sigma told me about his appearance. That’s why I recognised him.” She paused and Tecchou could already fill in the blanks. “He wants to be found this time. He wants you to find him.”

~~~

Sitting in a dark alley, in which the smells of piss and vomit hung like a thick, never-lifting fog, Tecchou wished he had taken that first-aid kit with him. His fingers were slippery with blood and sharp pain pulsated in the nerves between his vertebrae while he clumsily cut through skin and flesh with his knife.

Usually, a short but deep cut should be enough to free the transmitter and slide it out of the wound, but since he couldn’t see anything and cut behind his own head, it was impossible to get right. Another misplaced cut caused him to make a noise that was a mix of a pained hiss and an annoyed groan.

The wound was small but he still shoved his finger in, shuddering at the intruding sensation as he moved it around. Nothing felt remotely like the transmitter. Tecchou swore under his breath and grabbed the knife again.

Another cut, this time a bit further to the right. He pressed around on the skin surrounding the wound until something moved. The pressure squeezed the small transmitter towards the only place it could slip out: the cut he had just made. Tecchou forced it further up until he could slide it out from underneath his skin. He dropped it into the palm of his hand.

It was smaller than he had anticipated. Only a bit bigger than a cooked grain of rice and black in colour. He picked it up and rolled it between the pads of his thumb and index finger, spreading a thin layer of blood on both of them.

It was such a small thing that could have ruined all of this for him… He pushed himself up from the wall he had been leaning against and wandered back out of the small alley.

Without a band-aid to cover up the wound, he was thankful for his hair being longer in the back to hide it. Although not too many people were out at this time anyway, so nobody would question him. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few couples out on late dates or teenagers looking for fun. None of them paid Tecchou any mind and he was thankful for it.

He’d been a bit scared that he would appear as threatening or weird, due to his clothing and usual demeanour, but it seemed like he wasn’t as noticeable as his head was telling him.

After a bit, an ATM by the street greeted him with its bright lights. Tecchou inserted his card and withdrew the highest amount of money he could. Then again. And again. Until there was next to none left. He was glad that his card allowed him to withdraw huge amounts of money, as he sometimes needed that for missions.

It was the smartest to withdraw it all now since they could also use that to track him. Only being spotted at one ATM in a city close to the base would be okay.

He shoved the money into his wallet, then kept going.

As he walked down the street, he tossed the transmitter in the direction of some pigeons, thinking one of them or a rat might pick it up. He had thought about throwing it in the river, but that would be noticed too early when they eventually backtracked his steps after noticing his disappearance. An animal would carry it around for at least a while longer, making him gain valuable time.

He needed that.

Although he had figured out his next step, he was set on catching up on the sleep he’d missed the night before. The itch to keep going and search for Jouno was almost insatiable, but he hadn’t given himself the time to recover from his injuries. It sucked, but that was his reality.

He entered a small hotel by a corner, almost invisible to people passing by due to its lack of bright lights against the rest of this district. As Tecchou checked in, they gave him a weird look for paying in cash. But this was Yokohama, they probably saw that every day. He did show them his real ID when they asked. Never having cared to permanently get a fake one even though they were super easy to obtain around here, he now regretted it a bit. He hadn’t even kept one from going undercover, it was truly a shame.

But that also meant that this would be his last time being seen in public as the Hunting Dog Suehiro Tecchou.

After tonight, he would have to leave this job behind, and maybe even his name once and for all.

The realisation was slowly starting to set in and made him feel dizzy, but he gripped the wooden counter a bit tighter to keep himself grounded. Another weird look but no comments were thrown in his direction.

Tecchou received a key and walked to his room.

It was small and the only thing there was a bed, as he needed to use a communal bathroom and didn’t get anything else for the money he paid. But that was neither new for him, nor did he care much about that for a night. The old floor creaked under his steps when he undressed and safely stored his things on his mattress close to him for fear they might be stolen. It also allowed for quick access to his sword.

As he crawled into bed, he went over his next step again. His plan left a somewhat bad taste in his mouth, but it was one of the only things he’d been able to come up with—and, at that, it was a rather reliable plan.

Tecchou sighed.

He fixed his blanket and turned onto his right side until he was staring at a wall. His original plan for the next day had been to visit the Armed Detective Agency to inquire about Jouno’s whereabouts. The Commander had told them about that genius detective a handful of times, so Tecchou’d considered him as an option for help.

But now that Teruko had helped him out by giving him a place to start looking, all he’d have to do was to search online for the crime committed on one of the computers in the lobby. He’d probably find a narrower location that way, and he could stare at a grainy picture of Jouno for way too long before making a final decision to get there instead of turning back.

For that, he had a plan. But first on his list was resting. It wasn’t that he wanted to sleep, he was wasting precious time doing so, but unfortunately, he had deemed it necessary for his body and mind.

He forced his eyes to close. Sleep. He played the word in his head over and over again, as though it would summon what he needed.

Eventually, it wasn’t the repetition, but the exhaustion that took him away.

~~~

He awoke in the early morning. Unable to tell if he felt refreshed or not, he used the computer in the lobby for research and checked out quickly before heading down towards the port. Tecchou consumed a copious amount of black coffee from a cheap café halfway to his destination and took another cup with him.

The air by the port was fresh. He passed a few warehouses from shipment and storage companies, as well as a couple of fish restaurants typical for areas like this. Tecchou didn’t exactly know what about the sea made people want to eat fish—sure, fish typically lived in the sea, but the grey and unruly waves usually made him want to eat black lentils.

He also didn’t know why people always talked about the smell of the ocean so positively. While he did consider the air here to be fresh, he thought that the sea stank. It always carried this certain stench he couldn’t quite put his finger on, so he hoped for the wind to keep blowing the salty air away from him. However, as he came closer to the water, it became unavoidable.

The wind grew stronger and Tecchou’s coat fluttered around his legs as he walked. His hair kept getting in his face and for a moment, he thought about cutting it short. But he neither had the time nor the utensils except for his knife.

Once he’d passed the final fish booth, he sighed to release some tension that had been building up in his shoulders.

As he progressed, he noticed a change within himself, and he hated it. The grip on his coffee-to-go was tightened to the point where his knuckles were drained of blood and pale, and his eyes switched from one side to the other quickly, never staying somewhere for too long, and definitely not making eye contact with anyone. He found himself looking over his shoulder more often.

In reality, he had no idea if the military would send someone to apprehend him, let alone this quickly. If Fukuchi ordered someone to get him back. On the other hand, he was going directly against his order to stay put, so they might just—Tecchou shook his head. The Commander probably hadn’t even returned yet. And thus, the order couldn’t have been given. He had maybe a day or two. Three if he was lucky. There was no way of knowing when Fukuchi would finish his mission and come back to Japan, as he had always been quite unpredictable in that regard.

Tecchou couldn’t imagine Fukuchi sending someone to kill him. He had always known the Commander as someone who valued not only his team but also the people behind it. He had built the Hunting Dogs, hand-picked and welcomed them, and harboured those people over the years. He was well-liked by all of them despite his quirks that could bother the others occasionally. They all had those though, and, at the end of the day, they always made the team understand each other better.

However, if Fukuchi were to do it—if he were to send someone after him, then Tecchou would understand. Fukuchi was a man of the military. Much like Tecchou, he would not be the same man without the order, the soldiers, or the Great War. Fukuchi could set aside all of his humanity for the greater good. And maybe Tecchou could be in the way of exactly that.

He wondered if he would do the same in the Commander’s position. In his opinion, Tecchou was still pursuing the justice Fukuchi preached and that he had sworn to fight for in the Hunting Dogs. The only issue was that he went against orders and the law, and he didn’t know if Fukuchi would be so lenient about that.

He wondered how Teruko and Sigma would react when presented with his corpse. When Tecchou’s blood was on the hands of the man they admired, and who had given the order to kill him. What would their faces be like?

He shook his head. That was something he shouldn’t be thinking about right now. At least not when it wasn’t an actual threat just yet.

Tecchou sighed and let his eyes wander again. This time, they found what he was searching for.

He dumped his finished coffee cup into the trash and crossed the rather empty port. Only a few people were there, working around the ships or snooping around the containers. It was still early in the morning, so not many individuals had found their way down here yet.

Tecchou didn’t pay attention to any of the others, though, as he was fixated solely on a group of three a bit closer to the water.

An older man was opening a paper bag, offering its contents to the two people next to him. The other two let their hands slide in and out again, revealing fresh bagels. Breakfast, Tecchou thought. He was hungry as well; the three coffees had been all he’d offered his stomach so far. With faint jealousy, he watched the small group take their first bites.

It was a peaceful scene, so Tecchou almost didn’t want to disturb them.

“Excuse me,” he called when he was about ten metres away from them. He removed his hands from his pockets to give the impression of being unarmed and trustworthy, waving his right one at them.

Three heads turned to him, looking more or less alarmed by the sudden disturbance. The younger man of the two choked on his bagel and the girl patted his back while coughs shook his body almost violently. She looked a bit caught at the disturbance and raised a hand to cover a part of her face, so Tecchou chose not to look in her direction too much.

“How can we help you?” asked the older man after eyeing the two others from the side.

Tecchou approached and lowered his voice in order not to alarm anyone else. “Are you Port Mafia?”

Two faces darkened. The young woman looked murderous and ready to slit his throat, while the older one merely looked more on guard. The other guy’s face was almost as red as his hair from choking and he didn’t seem very present in the conversation at hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Tecchou put on an apologising look. “I mean no harm. I’m here with an inquiry. Maybe you could help me out.”

The young woman and the man exchanged looks, then both nodded. The third member was doing his best to regain his composure although occasional coughs still shook him.

“Get it together, Tachihara,” the girl told him with a light kick to his shin.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “but there’s still some crumbs down there.” Tachihara pointed at his throat and made a face, then glanced at Tecchou.

He was a splendid actor who could fool anyone. His reaction to seeing the fellow Hunting Dog being this strong was amusing, but somehow still fit into the role he was playing, Tecchou thought. Even if the others were suspicious of their teammate right now, they didn’t say anything, and they certainly didn’t look like they believed anything to be off.

“What can we help with?” The older man—Hirotsu? Tecchou was unsure, but Tachihara had mentioned him before—didn’t even question how Tecchou knew they were Port Mafia. Deals were made fast, the less time was spent chatting, the less could be revealed about a person or their organisation.

“I want to get to Shanghai, China,” Tecchou explained. “As fast as possible. Preferably still today.”

Tachihara crossed his arms, fully recovered although still a bit red around his cheeks. “Do ya have the money though?”

“I have cash,” Tecchou confirmed. “Lots of it.” He tapped his finger on his coat around where his wallet was, not wanting the others to grow hostile when he put his hand in his pocket.

The group exchanged looks. The girl—Akutagawa?—shrugged, while Tachihara stared at Tecchou. Maybe he should have contacted their mole and told him about his departure beforehand, but he hadn’t had the means to do so after settling on this plan. He wondered if Teruko had told him anything but he couldn’t ask now.

Hirotsu nodded at the two, then pulled out his phone. He took a few steps back, so Tecchou couldn’t hear his conversation.

“We’re doing it,” Tachihara announced. “But for that fast a service, you better pay us a lot upfront!”

Tecchou nodded and lowered his hand into his pocket. He felt two pairs of eyes on him, watching with the utmost attention to every little detail of his body, not only the hand. Any muscle’s twitch could mean danger, Tecchou was well aware of that.

However, he only grabbed his wallet and pulled it out. “How much, then?”

He knew that this ‘service’ would be fast, as Tachihara had said, but it exceeded his expectations. Not only had they been quick, but also careful, since they’d avoided cameras as instructed by Tecchou during their discussion about more details.

When they arrived at the airport, they were greeted by an oddly familiar cop with a Mori Corporation lanyard, who led them along an exact path to the back of the airport.

Even after all those years, it still surprised him how easy and smooth these criminal operations were. But the Port Mafia—or Mori Corporation—had spun its web all over Yokohama and had further ties beyond the borders of the city. They even had the police as their puppets, which somehow was the least surprising thing to Tecchou.

He had witnessed exactly this and his own current actions countless times from the other side of the law. But experiencing it himself was fascinating and he could almost envy Tachihara for being able to gain this valuable insight. Tecchou was well-familiar with how criminal operations worked from his years of experience, but actually thinking like a criminal and living it was something completely different.

“Here it is,” the cop announced. Their group of now five people approached a plane. The boarding hadn’t yet started but luggage was already inside.
“Thank you for your quick help.” Hirotsu talked to the man like they knew each other and had gone over this process a lot. They most likely had. Tecchou wondered if there would be a point in remembering the cop’s face but he decided not to.

He was paid, then he took off again as Tecchou stared after him.

“If you’re worried about him snitching, he won’t,” Tachihara reassured him with a hefty pat on his back, hitting the sword underneath the coat against Tecchou’s skin. It made both of them flinch in pain but they tried to conceal it as best as they could.

“I’m not worried about that,” Tecchou said through gritted teeth, still feeling a hot, stinging feeling where his sword’s sheath had hit his back.

“Good.” Tachihara’s voice sounded as pressed as his while he eyed the red palm of his hand. He shook it a few times as though that would make the pain go away, but when Akutagawa shot him a look from the side, he stopped.

Tecchou regained his full composure as well and pulled out his wallet to hand over the rest of the money they had agreed on. Hirotsu pocketed it with a polite nod.

“Well then,” Tecchou said. “I’d like to thank you for your help.” He bowed his head and Hirotsu mirrored him.

“Good luck on the rest of your journey.”
“Thank you.”

He shortly looked at Akutagawa, who waved lightly, then at Tachihara. His look was neutral, as one would expect from him, but Tecchou thought to see a hint of worry in his eyes. He wished he could properly say goodbye to him as well, give him a hug as he’d done with Teruko and Sigma, but that wouldn’t be possible.

“Yeah, good luck, man!” Tachihara said. “Hope ya get through whatever it is in one piece.”
“Thank you…” Tecchou replied, then added, “man.”

Tachihara almost laughed at that. His manner of speech had been something the other Hunting Dogs lovingly teased him about during the short time they spent together whenever he visited and slipped up to speak the way he was now used to in the Port Mafia.

Tecchou bowed again—he was probably being overly formal with these people, but he didn’t care, since they’d been a great help—then waved a last time before climbing the stairs and onto the plane.

Finally, he said goodbye to Yokohama as well. Goodbye to his home that wasn’t far from this city. Goodbye to Japan.

The bottle of pills rattled in his pocket as the plane took off.

His next maintenance surgery would have been in sixteen days.

~~~

“Truth or dare?” Gogol’s giggling got louder when the man tied to the chair made a confused noise.

“Stop these childish games!” Jouno rubbed his face. He felt like he was going insane. Earlier, they had received a message from Kamui to stay put and lay low for a while until further instructions came. Since Jouno had put two and two together that Kamui, whom he had first met as Fukuchi Ouchi and leader of the Hunting Dogs, would be Tecchou’s boss and thus have control over him, he understood that everything was more complicated now.

He'd just learned that Jouno and Tecchou ran into each other on opposing sides both under the same leader. This could certainly cause problems, and Jouno’d heard how strained Kamui’s voice had been over the phone.

Before this, he had never informed his—or rather their—boss about specifics of his past, so he’d never mentioned Tecchou. But he also hadn’t discovered that he was a Hunting Dog until very recently. If Tecchou had told the man he knew as Fukuchi about this was a different question that Jouno couldn’t answer for himself.

It was almost funny. He could almost laugh. But he only managed a bitter smile. Fate sure was cruel for forcing him to run into Tecchou again.

He wondered what their leader would do about that mess now. If Gogol was right and Tecchou decided to come after him, that could put Kamui in danger of being found out by all of his subordinates. If Fukuchi sent the military to kill him, he would also be questioned by the other Hunting Dogs. Truly, it was a mess. He’d have to wait for more information but he didn’t know how long it would take their boss to sort things out and contact them again.

‘Laying low’ wasn’t exactly what they’d been doing before they received the message—quite the opposite, actually.

They had occupied the living room of a man who’d tried to screw them over a while ago. Jouno and Gogol were doing something completely harmless, really. But the guy had been so unfortunate to have come home.

The pair had tied him to a chair, then the call reached them—and Jouno and Gogol had to pretend like they weren’t about to torture someone. ‘Laying low. Understood!’ was what they’d said. Maybe they had sounded a bit too obedient and suspicious, but Kamui hadn’t questioned them.

Now, they were all stuck in this stupid living room. Gogol couldn’t sit still for a second so he had paced around the place a lot and fidgeted with—dirt? Jouno was unsure what interesting stuff he kept finding around the room and, for the sake of his sanity, he chose not to question it or pay attention to anything his partner was doing.

Their victim was sitting in his chair because what else could he possibly do? He had gone back and forth between crying, begging, and a combination of both for about an hour and a half, but now he was just silent. Jouno wondered what was going through his head right now. Maybe he was on the verge of accepting his demise, or he had a glimmer of hope he would be let go… Jouno hadn’t been paying too much attention to him, either.

He had been a bit too lost in his thoughts for his own good. And thus, he hoped for Gogol to either lose his patience first and start torturing that guy so Jouno wouldn’t be the one to snap, or for Kamui to give them the green light or something else to do.

He just needed to do something.

‘I’m so glad I fou—’

“Dare!” Jouno blurted out. Anything. Anything but that.

“Oh, you wanna play after all? Hmmmm…” Gogol turned on the couch but not in the way a normal person would in order to face Jouno. Of course not. He shifted from a sitting position to letting his head hang off the couch while his feet went over the backrest. Jouno couldn’t imagine this to be comfortable, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Do a handstand!” his partner finally ordered. “So I can see you the right way around, you’re kind of upside down right now!”

“This is ridiculous, you—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” His complaints were promptly shut down. “When I dare you to do something, you do it! That’s how the game works! Besides, we can’t do anything more fun since we need to stay out of trouble.” He sounded as disappointed as Jouno felt. The thought of having to sit around here doing nothing bugged him to no end. Usually, he enjoyed not doing anything. It was nice from time to time to sit around in silence and peace.

But that wasn’t the case right now. Not when his mind kept replaying his encounter with Tecchou, and Gogol was the one he was stuck with. Still, the jester and his games were a better distraction from the first thing than nothing.

“Okay, fine…” Jouno stood up. This was humiliating and childish, but he complied as Gogol clapped excitedly. “You look much better this way than upside down!”

Jouno brushed him off with an annoyed hum. While he tugged his clothes back in place and sat down on the couch next to his partner, he asked, “Truth or dare?”

Gogol made a long thinking sound and tapped his chin. “Truth!”

Jouno nodded. This was something he’d been waiting for. Through all of the rounds of this and similar games that Gogol had made him play during their time working together, he had always itched for this opportunity.

Usually, the Clown picked ‘dare’ when they played this with victims involved. They would sometimes dare each other to do things to them… Cut a limb off, kill them and the like… Whatever came to their minds at that moment. But that wasn’t a possibility at this point in time.

“Tell me what you did before you joined the Decay of the Angel,” Jouno ordered. He tried to sound casual about his request, even though he was itching for an answer.

“Bleh!” Gogol sounded like he was sticking out his tongue at Jouno. Immediately, Jouno knew that he was not getting an answer out of this man. This should’ve been obvious from the start but Jouno’d still wanted to try.

“Did you hear that?” The jester asked the third man in the room, who made a startled noise at suddenly being addressed. “He wants to know about my life!” Gogol giggled. “Jouno, Jouno… Usually, you should use this to ask about my crush on—but that probably doesn’t matter to you, you don’t care about such things!” His voice dropped with fake sadness as he assumed a normal sitting position once again.

A finger was pointed at Jouno, who was unfazed by the accusation of not caring about Gogol’s love life (which was true).

“I refuse to answer your question!” Gogol yelled.

“But I just did the handstand, it’s only fair for you to—”
“No! This game only works if you respect the boundaries of all those involved.”

Jouno made a face as he thought too deeply about the nature of ‘Truth or Dare’ as well as the players currently involved. Boundaries weren’t really a thing people usually respected while playing, he felt like that was the entire point of it. He quickly gave up on trying to follow Gogol’s train of thought as it clashed with that, but he wouldn’t press him any further.

“Fine… Do you want a different question instead?” he offered but the other player declined.

“It’s your turn again! Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Jouno picked because what else was there to do?
“What did you do before you joined the Decay of the Angel?”

…He should have expected that, as he’d kind of dug his own grave with that one.

Jouno was quiet for a moment. Then one more moment.
“Out of all the members of this group, I hate you the most.”

“‘Hate’?!” Gogol jumped up from the sofa. “That doesn’t answer my question!”
Jouno dismissed his protests with a wave of his hand. “Whatever, whatever…”

He massaged his temples with a groan. This was a pain, Jouno wanted this to end. He thought about Kamui, his order to lay low. Thought about his own abilities and Gogol’s…

Jouno wanted to say that this happened accidentally or involuntarily, but he was fully aware that he chose to point his finger at their victim. The man flinched. His heart began to beat faster. He raised his shoulders and tried to make himself smaller in fear. Less of a target. But Jouno had already decided on his fate.

“You,” he challenged. “It’s your turn to ask one of us a question.”

He smiled, causing the man to shudder. Jouno was completely in control. Making their victim think he wasn’t, that he was giving up some of his power and transferring it, or even letting the victim build his own. That the restraints were the biggest threat to him and the only thing keeping him there, but, unbeknownst to him, he had strings on his back that Jouno was playing with like they were nothing.

“M-me?”

“Yes, you! Who else could I be talking to?”

“Oh…” The man paused, trying to figure out if this was a trick or serious. And he decided to believe it was the latter. Fear made people stupid. He weakly pointed his chin towards the sofa. “You. Clown.”

“Yes?” Gogol sang. With this, they both knew they were going against orders—or were they? ‘Laying low’ was vague, and it was up to interpretation if that included or excluded a little murder for the sake of their sanity.

“Truth or dare?” Their victim’s voice was shaking as much as his body. Meanwhile, Gogol next to Jouno was about to explode from excitement. Jouno was wondering if he’d leave behind confetti. His partner could make that happen, probably.

“Dare!” Gogol picked.

The man licked his lips. “Okay.” He shifted around in his chair as much as his restraints allowed him to. His heart beat even faster and his palms began to sweat. Gross… But exactly the reaction Jouno had anticipated. Hope born from desperation that discarded any logical reasoning.

“I dare you to untie me and let me go.”

“Okay!” Gogol said happily. He jumped off the sofa and walked towards the chair with bouncing steps.

The rope they had used was cutting into the man’s flesh, so he flinched when Gogol began to undo the knot and it moved into his wounds. Jouno liked the thought that the otherwise strong fabric left some small fibres in there, leading to more irritation. He doubted the man felt the pain as intensely due to the amount of adrenaline in his blood right now, but it would kick in eventually.

The second the rope had been untied enough, their victim jumped up and dashed towards the living room door.

Quietly, under the sound of the frantic steps and a bit further away, Jouno heard a key turning in a lock and sliding out of it. He opened his palm and Gogol’s disjointed hand dropped the front door’s key. It was cold, still mostly untouched.

“Wait!” Jouno called after the man.

He stood up and waved the key, but the man only stopped when he made it to the entrance. His heart jumped when there was no key and the door wouldn’t budge when he tried to open it without one.

A line of Russian swear words rolled over his lips. Then, the panic hit.

He began to scream and rattled at the door handle. He banged against the wood and cried for help even though he had no neighbours who could possibly hear him.

Jouno could smell tears, sweat and desperation, and it brought a smile to his face. The cries and begs filled his mind and made him dizzy when he used his ability to quietly appear next to him, still waving the key.

“Are you looking for this?” He asked innocently.

“Wha—” no coherent words would come out of the man’s mouth. It was a mix of Russian, English, and the three Japanese words he seemed to know until he formed a sentence. “You were supposed to let me go!”

Jouno shrugged. “You only dared my partner! I can do what I want.”

He flicked the key into the air. The man’s eyes followed it and he held his breath as he tried to reach it but Jouno was faster. He caught it in his hand, then lunged out with his arm.

Before their victim could fully react, Jouno let his fist fly straight towards his face. He was fast, but before he let his knuckles collide with his nose, Jouno activated his ability and let his hand disintegrate before the collision. Having expected an impact, the guy stumbled to the floor.

Jouno chuckled and lightly shook his wrist once his hand had appeared again to give the impression that he needed a bit of recovery time.

Confusion hit the man on top of everything. But he knew he had no time to think about this, so he used the opportunity to get to his feet and sprint towards the stairs. Jouno listened to him bolt upstairs like an animal, on all fourths as his mind couldn’t even make him stand up straight anymore.

With slow, casual strides, Jouno followed as Gogol clapped and cheered him on from the living room. He let his steps echo on the wood of every single stair. Heavy and threatening, and he enjoyed listening to the shudders his nearing presence caused with every noise.

He wasn’t in the man’s field of vision, as he had fled to another room, shut the door, and leaned against it, so Jouno used his skill to skip the last three stairs and reappear behind the door.

On the other side, his victim breathed a glimmer of hope since he knew the number of steps it took from the bottom floor up, and the predator’s had stopped. So—

Jouno raised his leg and kicked the door out of its frame.

Just this action reduced his prey to a screaming and wailing mess, begging him not to kill him in every language he knew, but death would come. They both knew that. Death would come, and it would be no less excruciating than this.

He tried to drag his body away over the floor, losing all ability to coordinate his body properly while Jouno crossed the room and kneeled down next to him.

“Hey now,” he cooed. “Don’t cry.” He reached out and put a hand on the man’s cheek. He felt disgusting, but Jouno didn’t pull away.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be. It will be easier if you don’t move,” Jouno told him. His voice was full of false sweetness, it almost made him sick. And yet, he kept smiling.

“Are you going to kill me?” The fact that he was able to form a coherent sentence, albeit interrupted by wet sobs, was surprising.

Jouno nodded. “Yup! I can’t allow you to flee and tell others about us. We have a job to do, you know?”

Sobs and begs intensified but Jouno could barely hear them over the sound of his own pulse in his ears. The voice he did hear changed and got deeper, it distorted. And, for a moment, Jouno thought to hear Tecchou crying.

‘I’m so gla—’

Jouno grabbed the key tighter and forced it into the man’s throat. It was unclean and less of a cut than just him ripping open skin, and thus it worked poorly. Jouno listened to the gurgling, the attempts to speak. The desperation, fear, and, in the final second, acceptance.

It took him long to bleed out. His dying sounds felt like fingernail scratches on Jouno’s skin. He wanted to close his ears or pull out his gun to shoot him and make him shut up, but he forced himself to keep listening like he always did.

Jouno felt no empathy towards his enemy dying but the rush he had experienced earlier disappeared completely and left him weirdly empty and with a bitter taste in his mouth. Every time that Jouno tried to imagine Tecchou dying in front of him right now, that bitterness travelled to the back of his tongue and clung to his throat where he couldn’t swallow it.

So, he was forced to listen to the man actually in front of him right now.

When he finally died, Jouno’s hand dropped from his cheek but other than that, he didn’t move.

“You did it again.”

He didn’t flinch even though he felt like it. For some reason, Jouno felt caught.

“Killed him too fast,” Gogol told him. “I miss the old you. You’re chang—”

“I’m not.” Abruptly, Jouno stood up. “We have to lay low, Kamui said. His screams could’ve been heard. We made a mistake.” But they both knew that this had nothing to do with it.

“That soldier…”
“I’ll kill him!” Jouno threw his head back. He ran his hands down his face, smearing the stranger’s blood over his skin. It felt disgusting, he wanted to peel his face off to rid himself of it. “I’ll… I…” He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought that far. He had ways to kill Tecchou. He was sure of that. But specific techniques to do so, or even holding his dead body after driving a knife into his heart… It all seemed more distant. Nearly unreachable.

“I have a plan for him. I know him. I will make him suffer like that, Gogol.” Jouno laughed but he couldn’t recognise his own voice or joy in it. “It will be such a spectacle!”

Those promises weren’t empty, Jouno told himself. And Gogol seemed to believe the same, or at least he pretended to as he clapped his hands in excitement.

“Great! I’m glad I can count on you, Jouno!”

Chapter Text

Long flights usually didn’t bother Tecchou, but the two hours from Tokyo to Shanghai were spent restlessly fidgeting in his seat. The man sitting next to him gave him weirded-out looks the entire time, especially after he’d watched Tecchou ungracefully rid himself of his coat and store it in the overhead luggage section (he had taken off his shoulder holster along with his jacket and wrapped his sword in it to hide it in order to sit comfortably).

Tecchou tried to act unbothered but being stared at annoyed him at least a little bit. However, he chose not to say anything as he didn’t want to cause a scene.

After landing in Shanghai, Tecchou found a car rental place at the airport and offered them way too much cash to hand him a car without having to show them his ID. Only one day in and he already had to worry about his spending, it was embarrassing.

Furthermore, he had to add that to his list of crimes, which he felt would be growing quite a bit from now on.

He sighed and threw his jacket and sword on the backseat before getting in himself. He adjusted his seat and pulled out the map he had purchased with the car.

According to the articles he’d read, the murder Teruko’d mentioned had occurred close to Wuhan. He found the region and circled it. It was north of the city, a bit further away from everything.

Tecchou also circled his own location: Shanghai Airport. He sighed at the distance. Long drives were usually fine as well but not now, when he wanted to get places fast.

For a moment, Tecchou wondered if there was an airport close to his destination but he brushed the thought off. He was in a foreign country, wanted to avoid too much criminal activity, and didn’t feel like being caught heavily armed. From now on, public places with cameras were to be avoided if possible, so he needed to choose the longer route: driving.

Tecchou grabbed the car’s key and let the engine roar.

~~~

Driving through Shanghai brought back old memories. He had been there before—once, at seventeen, when his superiors had sent him out to visit military bases and accompany someone important during their visits to Shanghai, Russia, and Poland. The end goal had been Germany, where Tecchou was then stationed for a while before being considered for and eventually joining the Hunting Dogs Programme.

Details of the destinations and the people there escaped him at the moment. He could barely remember faces or names, even though he thought of that time to be an important aspect of his career. He’d helped train new soldiers, learned things about the people around him, made connections, and picked up a word or two in other languages.

Maybe they also were destinations important to his personal development, but he didn’t usually think about that too much since the military was the centre of his life and very being.

If he thought about it, as the first stop on his trip to qualify for the Hunting Dogs, Shanghai had been the beginning for him back then. But he hoped that this time, it would be the end already.

Although he’d been here before, Tecchou didn’t remember too much of the city.

Some of the more impressive buildings were ones he vaguely recognised, but he had no time to linger and let memories play in his head. He had a goal he needed to reach as fast as possible. An objective, an aim. A purpose. All of these vague synonyms as well as all of them at once and combined.

Tecchou drove. Buildings passed and became a blur. At some point, skyscrapers stopped but the new environment wasn’t something he could register. Space and time mixed in his head and became something that he couldn’t quite grasp since he watched it like a movie.

He functioned, but it was more his outer shell acting than Tecchou himself. Not his mind; his body alone.

He drove. Only stopped when his body demanded him to walk around his car stretching because it ached, or to let his eyes read the map again. His brain seemed to register it, then he was driving again. On and on and on.

He needed gas, so he stopped. Maybe the car and his body had morphed into one. He was unsure, as he couldn’t really feel his limbs, flesh, and bones anymore at this point.

Tecchou drove. And he kept on going, regardless of how the streets looked, what was outside the window or what other vehicles he encountered.

It was a feeling he’d had quite often. Especially as a teenager. His hands felt like someone else held them to swing his sword, and yet the deaths of his enemies were his doing. Tecchou didn’t mind that. Killing enemies was good, so he didn’t know why his mind took that away from him and created a distance between him and his actions.

Now, he didn’t understand it either. Arresting Jouno was his responsibility. It ate at him and brought back more memories than he could consciously push away. But he needed to rectify his mistakes since it was his fault that Jouno had resorted to such violence, wasn’t it? That meant that the blood Jouno spilled stained Tecchou.

He would make things right again and he wished for his mind to recognise that and push him back into full reality.

It didn’t. But he kept driving anyway, not knowing for how long. Then, he stopped.

Tecchou’s Chinese was rusty, so he couldn’t read the sign in front of him. However, he recognised it well enough from the articles he had seen online.

A murder had happened here, and a bloody one at that. The victim’s fingernails had been lying on the floor, and there were other indications that he had been tortured. Those are the most detailed descriptions Tecchou had been able to find. Usually, he would have been provided with every single last triviality but since he hadn’t come here on official duty and wasn’t even supposed to be there, he could only rely on whatever the news told him.

Only provocative tabloids were daring enough to publish details, much to the critique of the serious press and broader public that condemned those actions for the sake of respect. Tecchou didn’t believe these publications, he knew better. But he also knew what Jouno was capable of, so he’d read all of the conflicting articles claiming disembowelment, a missing head and the like.

No matter the article, they had always mentioned this one place he’d now arrived at: a plane mechanic’s workshop and home.

A tall sign with rusty edges and fading colours announced the name of the place. A small toy plane, clearly painted by a child with wonky shapes, sat atop the sign. Tecchou wondered about the relationship between the child and the mechanic but then chose to brush off that thought. He needed to focus.

He drove his car off the road and parked it near the back of the house on some grass that ended in a forest. Most trees were still bare and leafless as the winter was just now slowly ending, but he thought to see a few buds.

When his feet met the greens, his senses sharpened and he could feel his mind re-entering the same reality his body was in. The process had him gasping for air like he’d swam from the bottom of the ocean back to the surface. He took a few deep breaths like that as well, but instead of needing the air, it was only to feel it in his lungs.

Once he was sure he’d caught himself again, he turned towards the building.

As far as Tecchou could tell, the property consisted of the mechanic’s shop and garage, a short runway for small planes, and the house fit for one or two people to live in. He left his car behind, grabbed his jacket, and dove underneath the barrier tape to enter the home.

Everything was quiet. Which was natural, as the owner of the place was dead. But besides that, there didn’t seem anyone else to be there, which was beneficial. Since it was a crime scene he hadn’t expected anyone to actually live there but some curious onlookers occasionally snooped around places like this. Police too, of course.

Tecchou sighed. He felt like he was intruding—which he was—and it made him feel somewhat guilty. But it was for a good reason, he told himself. He would bring justice and thus let the soul of the man killed find peace.

The floor creaked under his shoes as Tecchou left the entrance area and walked through the living room. He found nothing special or out of the ordinary. No dust had settled yet, as it hadn’t been that long since the man’s death and it was safe to assume that both police and family or friends had entered the building on several occasions.

The other rooms appeared to be the same, although everything carried some kind of melancholy making his body heavy. Tecchou couldn’t place his finger on what exactly was causing this feeling, so maybe it was just the knowledge of what had happened that weighed on him.

He visited the bedroom. There was a weird pressure on his chest when he looked at the single bed for one person, the wardrobe, and a box of toys that stood in the corner. It looked oddly out of place in a home that otherwise didn’t seem to house any children, so Tecchou’s guess was a grandkid or two.

He looked at the walls. There weren’t many photos in the house but he’d actively avoided looking at any of the existing ones. Some walls looked strangely empty but when he squinted at them, he could see some lighter rectangles on the otherwise greying white, so it was safe to assume that friends and family had taken missing pictures with them.

Tecchou sighed.

He walked through the rest of the building but found nothing else of note, so he left the house again as the sun was setting.

The garage had a door by its outer wall next to the gate, which was unusually wide and definitely more fit for planes than cars. He opened the door and entered the smaller building.

It gave him a good idea of what kind of person the man who’d died was: everything was in place and yet the space looked chaotic. Some things were crooked, clearly well-used and others didn’t look quite right where they’d been left as it made no logical sense to put them there. There was no obsessive need to put everything back in place, but some kind of order was preferred, even when it was nonsensical to Tecchou. It was the type of chaos someone who knew their space and craft well had left behind.

A few tools looked new and expensive but most others, as well as the single plane that stood in the garage, looked old and used but still taken care of. Loved, if Tecchou dared to use that word. Simple tools being loved instead of just broken and thrown away was an odd sentiment Tecchou found himself thinking about too much very quickly.

He pressed his lips together as he walked towards the plane. Judging by the space, two could have stood here and it wasn’t hard to guess who’d taken the other one.

Tecchou circled it and almost stumbled over a bucket of bolts that stood well hidden in the shadows.

While paying more attention to what was on the floor, Tecchou discovered a spot on the cream-coloured concrete that looked cleaner than the rest, devoid of all dirt. He crouched down and let his hand hover a few centimetres above the spot.

This was where he had died.

Tecchou could imagine the blood dripping down from the chair he had supposedly been tied to. All of that formed a puddle on the floor before it had been removed by a crime scene cleaner.

It hadn’t taken long, Tecchou thought. The murder had been discovered rather quickly, and he wondered who’d walked in here first to see the fresh death. He felt sorry for that person, too. It was much harder for ordinary people to process finding someone after they died, and depending on how close they were, this could be something that would haunt them for a while.

No traces of that horror could be seen anymore. The space had been polished and the screams of death had long lost their echo. It was quiet now.

Tecchou’s hand finally touched the floor. He dragged his fingers a few centimetres, then looked at his palm. There was no blood on it—like the person who’d lived here had never existed.

A high-pitched sound ripped the air apart.

Tecchou almost jumped and immediately assumed a defensive fighting stance. He felt his senses sharpen, painfully so, along with his heart picking up significantly. All air was pressed out of his lungs and Tecchou had to force himself to suck in a breath almost violently.

The disturbance continued. Still moving slowly and fully alert, Tecchou lowered his arms when his eyes followed the continuous noise to a telephone hanging on the wall.

It kept on ringing, even though Tecchou didn’t move to pick up. It rang for longer than a normal person would call before giving in and trying again at a different time. This was a workshop past closing time, and the owner was known to be dead.

Tecchou pressed his lips together. He couldn’t help the pain growing in his stomach with a huge knot. A part of him wanted to run. Far, far away from here and never look back. Get a new name and identity before starting over. But that part of him was small. Barely noticeable.

That’s why his feet started carrying him across the room to the phone. It was red, though the colour on the handle had long begun to fade to a lighter pink and white. A sign of being used often, like everything else in this garage.

He lifted his arm and closed his fingers around the phone. For a moment, he thought the plastic bit him by how much the contact hurt. But he was merely imagining the pain to make him retract his hand and turn away.

Tecchou’s expression was grim. The grief he’d felt for a man he didn’t even know, and whose death Jouno had caused, faded and was replaced by anger. Although, he wasn’t entirely sure who this new emotion was directed at.

At last, he took the phone and raised the receiver to hear who was on the other end.

“Your obsession with me is endearing,” Jouno’s disembodied voice spoke into his ear. He sounded smooth like silk and so full of himself. Like he was enjoying this a bit too much.

Tecchou wondered if there were cameras. Probably. He knew there were some due to the images of Jouno he’d seen, but those were out of function now, as far as he knew. So there had to be other ones. He could imagine Jouno’s partner laughing at the sight of Tecchou’s face, red with anger, seconds away from crying like a child that didn’t get its way.

“Jouno…” Despite everything, his voice was soft when he spoke the name. Maybe the anger was directed at himself after all. “I thought about what you said. About me leaving you behind, and—”

“Oh, shut up,” Jouno demanded, so Tecchou did. “You flatter me, Tecchou. Running after me like that.” He laughed but his voice was cold.
“Have you looked around the house yet? Did you get a good picture of who that man was? He was kind, wasn’t he? Loved by everyone.”

A lump formed in Tecchou’s throat but he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in this emotional turmoil. He shook his head, then let his eyes wander to find a camera. But he couldn’t see any. If it was connected to a device Jouno had, then maybe he could track them down?

“Jouno, listen to me,” said Tecchou. He turned around and continued his search while trying to put his thoughts into words. “I’m sorry. I… what I did back then was wrong. I should have been there for you. Please don’t take your anger out on others. It’s directed towards me and me alone. Face me. Kill me, if you need to.” He lifted his second hand to the phone to hold it in place. Everything felt heavy. The pain in his stomach grew. “I never—”

“Stop this,” came a harsh interruption from the other end of the line. “The only time you suddenly start to care is when it somehow hurts you, Tecchou. You’re selfish, you’ve always been that way.” Jouno’s tongue carried poison that etched Tecchou’s skin off his bones.

“That’s not—” Any attempt to speak was immediately shut down.

“Apologising is useless. You’re not sincere. But even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve made up my mind.”

Tecchou swallowed the lump and blinked a few times. His knees felt weak so he crouched down and leaned against the wall. Breathing felt hard. It must be a pathetic sight but he couldn’t help it. Usually, he stood well against confrontation and even in the past, he’d been able to take the things Jouno threw at him.

But now, for the first time, Tecchou felt like it was genuine hatred. It was his fault, much like everything else.

“Why?” was all Tecchou could manage. His voice trembled even though he didn’t want it to.

“Why?” Jouno repeated the question with a chuckle. “Because I want you to hurt. I want to destroy you. Is that not what you deserve for all that you’ve let happen?”

Tecchou couldn’t answer. There was nothing he could say when he thought that Jouno was right. Tecchou felt helpless. Suddenly, he was eleven or twelve years old again. Paralysed with fear, grief, and guilt. Emotions he thought he had long forgotten crept up his spine with the feeling of a thousand needles piercing his skin.

In the background of Jouno’s end of the call, other voices faded in and out but Tecchou couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Jouno sighed. “I thought you’d be a bit more resilient. Could take more than just that.”

He was right again. Maybe Tecchou was weak after all and he probably always had been. This time, he couldn’t retort anything. His throat was made of stone and yet it still ached somehow.

On the other end, Jouno clicked his tongue. “This isn’t worth my time. Goodbye, Tecchou.”
“Jouno, wait!” But the speaker already played the signal that the connection had been stopped.

Tecchou dropped the phone and let it dangle beside him from its wire. It hit the wall a few times before stilling, the impact making the noise distort and die down.

Pulling his knees to his chest, Tecchou felt small with no energy to lift himself up or carry on in any way. He wished there was a hole in his chest where his heart was, maybe that would lessen the pain he felt.

Jouno had changed. The war had changed him. Tecchou had seen it happen, but he had done nothing, even when Jouno had asked him to and pleaded with him. He had chosen the military, he had chosen justice and not his friend. He had been selfish like Jouno insisted. He’d gone with the option that would be easier on him—the option without Jouno. And now he saw the consequences of that.

Leaving Jouno behind had not only been a physical thing where he had brought distance but also a mental wedge between them that had altered both of them to a degree that Tecchou couldn’t recognise Jouno anymore.

Feeling small. Jouno had been just like him: small and scared. But Tecchou hadn’t helped him.

His fingernails dug into his palms. Maybe that would make the pain go away, but it didn’t. He doubted that anything would.

The only thing that got Tecchou off the floor and into the house again was the thought that Gogol might be watching his misery for his twisted enjoyment. That suspicion almost made him throw up then and there, but as he collapsed on the floor of the living room, the nausea faded again. There was nothing in his stomach anyway.

He lay on the cold wood, facing the ceiling. Both nothing and every thought at once was swirling through his head. Everything hurt. Tecchou’s fingers twitched, then he moved his hand to his chest to find his heart still beating. It was a regular pace, the way it was supposed to beat. But to Tecchou, it felt as though it shouldn’t be like this. It hurt. It hurt so much, and yet it felt normal and healthy. No matter how much he wished for a physical and easily curable cause for his pain, he knew that there was none.

He could only endure it.

Time passed. Tecchou didn’t have any reference for how much or even if it passed at all. But it had to. And all Tecchou did was lie there and stare at the ceiling with his hand on his chest.

His heartbeat beneath his palm being so normal started to feel oddly grounding. Although the pain didn’t fade, he somehow found comfort in the source of it.

Tecchou closed his eyes and let this feeling consume him.

When a new morning broke, he felt clearer. His head did. As Tecchou left the house and walked to his car, he let last night’s exchange play in his head again and again.

He tried to analyse and interpret everything Jouno had said and how he’d said it. Any background noises could have given away his location because one thing was clear: Tecchou wouldn’t stop. Not now. He’d started this, and he would end it as well. He wasn’t yet sure how, though.

He might give his life to Jouno, or he might arrest him. He didn’t want to think about the details of killing him, even though he had to put justice first. However, the thought felt like a headache, as it was the same thing that had started all of this: placing Jouno beneath justice.

But with him gone, would Tecchou’s past mistakes be erased? He didn’t want to think about that either.

What made him wonder about Jouno’s goal and intentions were his words about wanting to destroy Tecchou. There was no doubt in his mind that Jouno would want to kill him or make him suffer while listening closely and letting the sounds of his demise sweeten his day. So, Jouno being far away and not interfering directly irritated Tecchou. Jouno liked being close to his victims and doing the job himself—Tecchou had seen that from the files he had read about Jouno’s past crimes, and he was assuming as much from his latest known murder.

But thus far, Tecchou was the exception to this. He bit his lip as he put his car in reverse and manoeuvred it back onto the street.

It was weird. He didn’t have an explanation for that just yet and he’d have to keep turning those facts in his head either until he found an answer or it gave him too much of a headache and he had to wait for more information.

As for Jouno’s current location—Tecchou hadn’t been able to hear the voices in the background of the call very clearly. They had been gone too fast and passed quietly, but, if Tecchou hadn’t completely lost his mind, he believed the language to be Russian.

Which didn’t tell him much to nothing at all. Russia itself was already quite big and there were a few other countries with Russian as their official language, or where it was commonly spoken. Tecchou wished he’d picked up more than just basic Russian during his stay in the country, but identifying dialects was very advanced, meaning he was unable to narrow down the location.

If it even was Russian, although Tecchou felt almost confident in this.

He thought about driving to an internet café later to browse for crimes committed in Russian-speaking countries in the past day, but it already felt futile to do so.

Tecchou sighed and decided to focus on his current destination that he arrived at only shortly after.

The cemetery wasn’t busy at this time of the day. The sun had just risen and it was still a bit chilly but judging by the current state of the sky, Tecchou didn’t think it would rain. He parked the car near the entrance and locked it behind him, before entering.

With a short breath out of his nose, he began walking down the rows.

Having to check every single headstone would take a while, but Tecchou believed that it would be worth it. It was the least he could do. And since he didn’t have any new leads yet, he could take a bit of time to clear his head and recover.

With early spring flowers picked from the side of the road, Tecchou passed by the graves, reading names, birth and death dates, as well as other inscriptions.

People who died at an old age, people who died young. Children, even. Tecchou barely understood all that was written, but he was sure their families and friends chose every word with love and care.

He paid close attention to dates and names and he had to stop a few times to read both together when one came close to what he was looking for.

Another row, then another one, until Tecchou found himself in front of a spot with no headstone. He almost missed it, but now that he looked at it, it made sense to him: the funeral hadn’t yet happened. There was only a small sign with the name marking the location where the murdered man would be buried.

Tecchou wondered when the funeral would be but then discarded the thought. As much as he wanted to attend, he wouldn’t have the time and showing up as a complete stranger would seem rather suspicious if not disrespectful due to his personal involvement.

He crouched down and put the flowers next to the small sign. It looked odd—a disorganised bouquet next to an empty grave, but there was nothing else he could do right now. This basic sign of respect was all he had, and it surely didn’t make up for the guilt he experienced. Despite Jouno being the one to kill him, Tecchou felt like it could have been his own hands as well.

He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I’m sorry it came to this,” he said. He always felt weird talking to the dead but especially this time, when there was nobody buried yet. Others found it freeing, but Tecchou had never seen the point. Maybe they believed the dead could hear them. Tecchou didn’t know what he believed.

“I’ll do everything in my power to not let this happen again. It won’t bring you back to life or make things right, but… I hope that you can find peace after.”

He lingered for a moment and waited for nothing in particular.

Then he stood up again and walked back to his car without turning around. Maybe making this promise could help him push forward. He hoped for that to be the case.

~~~

Tecchou stopped at a small coffee shop on his way back. His stomach was so empty that it ached horribly, so he had about two pastries and three coffees. Everything tasted plain and borderline inedible, due to the fact that the staff refused to serve anything with soy sauce (claiming that they had none, but Tecchou was sure that this was a lie because they didn’t want him to ‘scare off customers’, as other places had told him before).

It left him feeling a bit more alive and having energy return to his bones was good. The deep fatigue he had been plagued by slowly vanished. He almost felt decent—if he ignored the deep-sitting pain in his chest. That was something even good food and coffee couldn’t fix, Tecchou thought.

He paid his bill, then hopped back into his car to drive back to the mechanic’s house.

Tecchou was almost able to find the way back without the help of his map but the triumphant pride was short-lived.

His face dropped when he saw several police cars parked in front of the house. Neither sirens nor warning lights were activated, so Tecchou assumed they were trying to catch someone—presumably him or someone else—by surprise.

For a moment he thought about yanking the steering wheel hard and driving in the opposite direction, but he decided that this would make him look too suspicious, so he kept driving straight.

Turning away his head from any of the officers standing in front of the house, Tecchou hoped that they wouldn’t be able to see his face.

He didn’t even dare to glance at them in the mirrors for fear of meeting anyone’s gaze.

The situation reignited his anxiety about being followed, thinking that Fukuchi had returned and sent out people to arrest or kill him. Tecchou swore under his breath, as he hated thinking about his Commander like that.

Nevertheless, he decided to drive another two kilometres before abandoning the car by the side of the road. Someone probably saw his licence plate, so it would be best if he didn’t drive around like that anymore.

He rubbed his face as he tried to think of his next step.

~~~

[Fifteen years ago. 21:00. They die but the world keeps on spinning // Day 52.]

“Tecchou, Jouno—please, sit down.”

The room was empty except for the Colonel, Jouno, Tecchou, and a nurse standing in the corner. She was silent and shifted from one foot to the other constantly. It was almost annoying and caused Jouno’s senses to sharpen as his nerves rose.

They did as they were told and sat down on one side of the kitchen table functioning as a desk, while the Colonel took a seat across from them. Jouno’s feet dangled a few centimetres above the floor when he moved all the way back in his chair, while Tecchou’s toes could almost reach it. He could hear his friend’s shoes scraping the ground from time to time.

“Stop moving your feet,” he ordered, and Tecchou did so immediately, even though his attention wasn’t on Jouno. It was like a reflex to hearing Jouno’s demanding voice, and somehow that irritated him even more.

“What are we doing here, Colonel?” Tecchou’s voice was as eager as ever. Motivated by recently gaining praise from the Colonel and fellow soldiers for killing enemies for the first time, Tecchou had been working harder than ever to become stronger.

The Colonel cleared his throat. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this decision, and I believe it’s about the right time to accept you into the military as fully-fledged soldiers.” It was like Tecchou woke up from his already very active state. His small legs were quick and Tecchou got to his feet, presumably saluting. There was only enough time for Jouno to plug his right ear with his finger before Tecchou put on the military tone he hated so much—and, to make matters worse, a lot louder this time.

“Thank you, Colonel!” he yelled. “I—”

His voice died down abruptly and Jouno assumed he got a scolding look for being so loud. Although Tecchou barely got excited like this (at least he hadn’t been for the past two months), he still had his moments. Jouno could only scoff at that. The positivity wasn’t something he personally understood—he didn’t want to be a soldier, but he didn’t want to leave his home behind either. And if that meant he had to become a soldier, then so be it. Besides that, he didn’t have anything else he could do, did he? There was nothing left. If he chose to leave, then he would be alone in this world. Because he was sure that Tecchou would never come with him.

Jouno grabbed the back of his friend’s shirt and pulled him into his chair once again.

“I’m gonna become the strongest,” Tecchou whisper-yelled at him. It was unclear to Jouno why he was even whispering, as he was sure that the Colonel heard him anyway.

“Sure, Tecchou…”

They fell silent again and waited for the Colonel to continue.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Tecchou,” he said, “and I’m sure you will do great. You’re a valuable member of our team.” While Jouno noticed that he was being left out of this, he didn’t say anything. His friend didn’t even seem to acknowledge it, as he was beaming with joy. Jouno thought to hear a noise erupting from his chest like that of a kettle. But instead of announcing that tea was ready, Jouno was sure that Tecchou would simply explode from excitement and pride.

“Although we currently have no access to our systems to register you two as soldiers, both of you will be receiving your own uniforms. However, your civilian clothes might be used for future missions, as it allows us to perform surprise attacks easily. You will get your own swords and receive training with other weapons as well,” the Colonel explained.

“Thank you so mu—” Jouno shushed Tecchou before he could get too loud again. He bowed slightly with a more quiet ‘thank you’.

The Colonel chuckled at what was playing out in front of him but he didn’t comment on it. He had always been cheerful when interacting with Tecchou and Jouno together. It was refreshing to have a warm person around when the war itself felt nothing like that.

He had been the one to find the two boys after they’d wandered around the city aimlessly, only kept alive by Jouno’s sense of hearing telling them where enemies were, and their small sizes allowing them to hide in between ruins, often next to squished corpses. They would sit there for hours on end, often in their own vomit while only holding onto each other.

Jouno’d had to pull Tecchou back into their hiding spots a great number of times, as Tecchou wanted to play soldier and kill enemies running around outside. But Jouno would always remind him they were mere children and unarmed.

The Colonel allowed Tecchou to do more than just ‘play’ soldier, and the weapons he was given were real ones.

Tecchou was a fast learner and an eager one at that. He always wanted to be out on the battlefield. Jouno, on the other hand, imagined himself sitting next to another way too familiar corpse after every day that ended.

There was a bit more distance between them now and Jouno found himself clinging onto his blanket at night rather than Tecchou. Before, they’d had only each other. Now, Tecchou had the Colonel.

And exactly that man pulled Jouno’s mind back into the makeshift meeting room.

“There is one last thing—” The Colonel moved an arm and the nurse came closer. Something rustled in her hands and she put it on the table in front of Jouno and Tecchou.

Jouno reached out and his hands found a pen as well as a sheet of paper wrapped in a full-page writing guide.

The nurse stepped back. Her demeanour changed again and Jouno felt his ears cracking painfully when he observed that she was trembling. Unsure what to do with herself, she awkwardly stood next to the table for a moment, before excusing herself.

Her voice was high in pitch and tear-stained, and she sniffed as she stepped out of the room.

Frowning, Jouno dropped the pen and put his hand in his lap, fidgeting.

He felt small again. The Colonel’s words made him think of himself as so big, sometimes even with pride, almost like he was grown. But now he felt the edge of the backrest towering above his head. His feet couldn’t reach the floor, and the seat was too wide for his legs to fill.

“What’s this for?” he asked, a bit hesitant.

“I need you both to write out your wills.”

Jouno froze. “… our what?” His voice came out as a whisper of disbelief.

“Your wills,” the Colonel repeated. There was no audible emotion in his voice and Jouno was sure that his expression was as devoid of it as his fellow fighters always said: the face he made around soldiers, not children. “For who will receive your possessions after… in case you pass away.”

Shaking his head, Jouno protested, “But we don’t… possess anything.” His heart was beating unbelievably fast and so, so loudly in his ears. “And neither of us have anyone to give anything to…”

“It’s a formality,” their superior explained almost nonchalantly. He crossed his arms and casually sat back in his chair. “If you think you possess nothing and have nobody to give anything to, then so be it.”

There was a lump in Jouno’s throat but he couldn’t quite swallow it. He didn’t want to cry, not now in front of the man who preached that soldiers shouldn’t cry. But he felt like it was inevitable.

A hand was placed on his back and Jouno turned to Tecchou.
“I have a few savings. Pocket money from my parents. And the keychain with the bunny that my mother gave me,” he noted. “I’ll put this in my will for you, Jouno!”

How could he sound so cheerful? Jouno opened his mouth to yell at him. Scream at him that he was dumb and an idiot and that this was crazy. But no sound would come out. At least not the sounds he wanted to form. “Thank you.” He whispered to conceal the shaking in his voice, but he was sure Tecchou and the Colonel could still hear it.

He swallowed again and his lips parted as though he wanted to add something, but all words he could say escaped him at once.

To distract from his obvious struggles, Jouno quickly picked up his pen and used his other hand to search for the first row of the writing guide.

He let his pen down on the page.

Chapter Text

[Present day. 14:06. Doomsday(?)]

Sigma shifted in his seat. Being called to the Commander’s office right on the day he returned was never a good sign. He had never experienced it personally, but he’d heard stories. And those stories… He shuddered.

Fukuchi was usually in a bad mood when he returned to the HQ from longer missions. This was something Sigma could very well get behind: returning from exhausting fights and dealing with allies as well as enemies in diplomatic ways was tiring. And coming back to having to do more work instead of resting was a pain, to say the least.

The only positive thing about this was that Sigma could easily guess what—or rather who—this meeting would be about. And so, he had been able to put his thoughts in order in advance and was ready to answer any questions that would be thrown at him. If he could handle accusations was a different thing but he would try his best.

Sigma had played every single possible outcome in his head. Being sent out and having to kill Tecchou, never seeing him again, being punished for not stopping and possibly supporting Tecchou, and losing his job… Although, if Sigma thought about it, he had never looked good in red anyway.

Teruko seemed less nervous than he was. She sat on her chair rocking from side to side in a playful way while humming a tune. Sigma wondered if that was for fun, to calm her own nerves, or to help him feel more at ease. If it was the final option, then it definitely helped at least a little bit. He got the feeling of being less lonely and almost like a kid whose mother hummed a soft song. This wasn’t anything Sigma had experienced himself, but it made Teruko’s age and maturity clearer again despite her current child-like appearance and act.

He was sure that Teruko felt anxious as well. She had looked quite serious when receiving the message that they would have to come talk to Fukuchi, and she hadn’t been as talkative since. And when even Teruko was nervous, Sigma had even more reasons for it.

He buried his hands in his hair, ready to rip out every single last one if he had to wait for the Commander any longer. He was late. Always was, and he never even gave a proper apology. As much as he respected that man, he sometimes infuriated him to no end.

Sigma groaned and looked at his watch. Seven minutes late already. His hands rubbed his face because he didn’t know what to do with them otherwise but he needed them to be busy, or else he’d have to start running laps through Fukuchi’s office.

A small hand curled around Sigma’s bicep, getting his attention. He lowered his arms slightly to peek at Teruko, who looked at him with big eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” she told him. “It’ll be okay.”
Sigma forced a smile but, in the process, it started feeling genuine. Teruko could be a devil but sometimes she had that effect on him.
“Thank you,” he said and she nodded. She removed her hand before patting his arm a few times and letting go of him completely.

Just a moment later, Fukuchi came in.

It was worse than Sigma had imagined. Instead of happily announcing himself and cracking jokes like he usually did, he was a quiet storm sweeping in through the door and filling the entire room.

Sigma found himself holding his breath when his Commander walked past the chairs he and Teruko sat on with slow, heavy steps that not only echoed from the walls but also left an impact on Sigma. He slid down his chair with every noise, trying to make himself smaller.

Then, Fukuchi sat down in front of them on the opposite side of his desk.

Forcing himself to look him in the eyes, Sigma tried to analyse the expression he wore. It was stone-cold like he always looked when he was dead serious about something. The face of a soldier, a commander. Sigma swallowed thickly and waited for him to speak.

“So,” Fukuchi began. Neither cheerfulness nor warmth were to be found in his voice. It was a lonely winter night. “Suehiro Tecchou left the country and neither of you stopped him, even though I told you, Teruko, to not let him or anyone chase after the criminals.”

He didn’t beat around the bush either. Straight to the topic. Sigma, however, said nothing. He pressed his lips together at the accusatory tone and wished he was somewhere else.

“With all due respect, Sir—”

But Fukuchi cut Teruko off.

“I know what you are going to say. ‘Tecchou didn’t manage to arrest the terrorists the first time, that’s why he’s going after them. He’s finishing the job, so you can’t punish him!’ But do you see my side of things as well?”

Teruko nodded wordlessly. Seeing her not retort anything as she would usually do with Sigma or Tecchou made him feel almost hopeless, but that’s how she was with the Commander. Their relationship could sometimes irk others but, usually, there was respect between them. That respect was still visible now but it was more on Teruko’s side, less on Fukuchi’s.

“What will happen to Tecchou now?” Sigma asked, his voice small.

The Commander sighed. “I haven’t talked to anybody else about this yet. I’ll try to handle this as an internal issue, but even then, the consequences will be—bad for Tecchou.” A short pause. “If he even makes it back, that is.”

Sigma tried not to flinch at that but he failed. It had been obvious to him from the start and yet… “What do you mean?”

Instead of Fukuchi, Teruko answered him. Her face was dark and so was her voice. “That man he’s hunting is dangerous,” she explained slowly. Sigma had only met him for a split second, but he was kind of able to guess that much. His presence had been nothing if not terrifying. In addition to that, he’d been able to almost keep up with a Hunting Dog’s speed and strength. Sigma was sure that he made up for what he was lacking with extreme precision.

“Not even Tecchou knows what he’s capable of. And then there’s…” Teruko’s voice trailed off at the end. “He has thirteen days left until he would have had his next maintenance surgery.”

The room fell silent. Sigma had been told about the repercussions of not doing the maintenance surgery. He shuddered at the thought. Not only was it a horrible death but it was also a slow process. Never having experienced the beginning of the symptoms before, Sigma couldn’t tell what it would be like, but he’d heard a bit from Tecchou, Teruko and Tachihara. And what they’d told him scared him. The slightly vacant look in their eyes when they, as people who could walk off horrible injuries, talked about only the beginning symptoms cut deep.

Anxiety always rose when they were on missions in the few days before the scheduled surgeries. Everyone would grow restless, the wish to finish everything as fast as possible came up. An unspoken ‘I wish we could abandon the mission and return home’ would linger in the air if things got more dire.

But Tecchou had never been like that. He always wanted to carry on, no matter how close the appointment was. All that despite the desolate, haunted look in his eyes when he’d first shared stories about the pain with Sigma.

It had left Sigma wondering if he would also go that far for someone or something. Looking at Teruko to his left and thinking about Tachihara and Tecchou, he was sure that he would. And, right now, Tecchou was probably the same. He wouldn’t simply return home for a surgery. Even though Sigma had never heard Tecchou mention the man he was now chasing, he was sure of this.

Fukuchi let out another sigh. “I’d hate to lose a valuable team member, but if he can’t be trusted—”

“Tecchou can be trusted!”

Sigma hadn’t noticed how he jumped up from his seat. Hadn’t noticed that he had yelled until he felt the words burn in his throat. He stood there with both his hands on the desk, looking down at Fukuchi, whose eyes were only mildly surprised.

“Please sit down again, Sigma,” he ordered calmly, despite Sigma’s sudden outburst. “You need to understand that, as a soldier and Hunting Dog, Tecchou doesn’t have the right to act like this. He is a soldier that functions for the security of the world. And thus, in this situation, he is to be judged as the military’s body. Not as a person who seeks to do the right thing.”

Sigma didn’t sit down. And he didn’t let Fukuchi get away with this stupid argument either.

“That’s dehumanising,” he said through gritted teeth but Fukuchi was wholly unimpressed. He glanced up at Sigma through half-lidded eyes as though he could yawn at that.

“Sigma…” Teruko urged him from her chair. When he looked over at her, her eyes pierced into his. Understanding and sympathetic, yet cold in a way that she, too, would have to agree with what was said.

But still, Sigma didn’t sit down. He balled his hands to fists and took a deep breath.

“Commander Fukuchi, please think about how this issue will be handled. I’m asking as someone who works under you, as a fellow soldier, and as a friend to Tecchou.” He bowed shortly. “I’d like to apologise for raising my voice, and I’d like to excuse myself.”

As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of Fukuchi’s face. He had opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. His eyes, however, spoke of things that Sigma didn’t quite understand. They were vacant and almost sad in a way that he was unable to decipher. Instead of stopping to stare in order to read and learn more, maybe even figure him out, Sigma left. The door fell shut behind him.

He kept his steps quiet and his face down as he walked through the halls. Not wanting anyone to look at him, the Hunting Dog took the stairs rather than one of the elevators which were usually busier.

Almost automatically, his legs carried him outside and let him sit near the running tracks where Tecchou had dragged him way too often at ungodly times for morning or night runs essential to his routine. However, instead of running, Sigma lay down in the grass and stared into the sky.

Clouds passed by the otherwise blue canvas, but he couldn’t find any joy in them now. Sigma appeared strangely empty, the only thing he really felt was an unexplored anger in his chest. It had started the day the fight at the airport had happened and only intensified over time.

He could clearly remember the way he had grabbed Tecchou to yell in his face, but his friend hadn’t reacted to his words at all. He’d stared somewhere else as though Sigma didn’t exist, with a slight frown around his eyes and his lips thin.

Sigma had seen many different versions of Tecchou: the soldier who was stoic and didn’t show many reactions to anything. The Hunting Dog, who was near mindless—his eyes were obstructed by wild hair and disappeared completely along with his face. But when they appeared again, they were unruly like the sea and almost animalistic. The friend Tecchou was the opposite of that. He was someone Sigma could chuckle at, someone kind and easy-going.

But this Tecchou had been new. He’d been looking at the past, present, and future all at the same time with a sense of horror not even he had known existed. In a way, this had terrified Sigma.

He’d expected him to snap out of it and become the soldier or Hunting Dog again when he started to chase after the plane, but that hadn’t been the case.

Then, later, Sigma had jumped into a small boat to fish Tecchou out of the depths of Tokyo Bay, scared he might have drowned when he pulled out nothing more than a cold, limp body.

Their goodbye had come way too fast. Sigma had seen the confusion and horror in Tecchou settle a little, being replaced by sadness and frustration, and pure, unfiltered pain. No matter how much he had tried to hide it, it had been there. Visible to Sigma.

He was sure that he didn’t have a right to feel this way, but he was angry at Tecchou. For several reasons, as far as he could tell. He was angry that Tecchou decided to suffer alone rather than confide his troubles in Sigma or Teruko. He wanted Tecchou to know that he wasn’t alone, never had been, but Tecchou always remained closed off.

Then, he was angry at him for leaving. Sigma would have joined him if asked, although he didn’t think he would’ve been wanted on this journey. But that wasn’t his issue: the sole fact that Tecchou had decided to leave was what caused conflicting feelings in him.

It felt selfish to think that but seeing Tecchou choose to leave hurt. Sigma was well aware that this was important to him, even more important than he’d let on. Nevertheless, a part of him wished that Tecchou wouldn’t have left—a big part if he was being honest.

He pressed his lips together. It was a conflict of wanting to preserve his own happiness by having Tecchou with him, and wanting Tecchou to resolve whatever pain this was causing him. It felt horrible being selfish in this situation. Sigma threw his arm over his face and covered his eyes. Really, a terrible feeling.

He truly wished he knew who that man was. Maybe he would be less angry and lost if Tecchou had just told him. The lack of information was most likely because he wanted to protect him but that also left a sour taste in Sigma’s mouth.

He rubbed his hands across his face and tried to rid himself of all of those annoying feelings. Tecchou had always been good at staying neutral. He was kind and empathetic, but never big on showing emotions, although he wouldn’t judge others for displaying them. Sigma had envied him a little but now he knew that he shouldn’t have interpreted the missing smiles, raised voices, or shaking in his body as non-existent feelings.

Tecchou had felt a lot, he just never showed it, not to Sigma at least. For a moment, he thought it was a lack of trust, but his coworker had put his life into Sigma’s hands countless times and called him a friend.

Maybe it was something he couldn’t understand just yet.

He wasn’t able to waste any more time thinking about this, however, since he was pulled out of his mind by a voice. He immediately yearned to crawl back into his thoughts.

“Hey!”

Sigma wanted the earth to explode. He didn’t even have to lift his head to know who was approaching him.

In his first week, Tecchou had warned him about that guy. Constantly stuck his nose where it didn’t belong and was not the easiest fellow to be around. Sigma had kept his distance but some minor contact had been unavoidable. And he’d hated it every single time.

“Are you ignoring me?” A foot nudged him, so Sigma finally removed his arm from his face.

“Is it something important?” he asked, struggling to conceal the annoyance in his voice.

Tanaka stood in front of the sun but didn’t block it completely, so Sigma had to squint to look at him. He still couldn’t see his face or make out his features but he was sure he wore the same arrogant grin as always.

“Kinda.” Tanaka shrugged. “Now that this one guy is gone—will there be an open seat for the Hunting Dogs?”

Sigma froze but his blood began to boil hot in his veins. “What?”

“Rumours have been going around that the freak—Suehiro—left to chase after some guy. I’ve always doubted that he’s competent enough for this job, so I thought—”

Sigma did not let him finish the sentence. Before Tanaka could even realise what was happening, he’d been swept off his feet with a rather rough kick to his knee and was caught in a chokehold on the grass.

“Take that back,” Sigma said through gritted teeth. Tanaka struggled against him just as much as he struggled to breathe. And yet, he didn’t give in. Typical for meatheads like him, Sigma thought.

“Never!” he pressed while his face turned red. The Hunting Dog tightened his grip to prevent him from saying anything else. This, too, was something he’d been warned about. Tecchou never got violent with fellow soldiers, at least Sigma had never seen it personally. There was always the attitude to ignore what people threw at him. But Sigma wasn’t like that—at least not when it came to the topic of his comrades or friends. And yet, he’d never resorted to violence up until now. He simply couldn’t let that guy spit on Tecchou’s name and legacy like that.

His eyes widened when he felt himself be lifted by a force suddenly much stronger than his grip was, and he landed on the ground. It knocked all air out of his lungs and he gasped and coughed with his eyes half-closed from the pain and dizziness. He forced them open again to catch himself but he was too slow.

A split second later, Tanaka was on top of him, pressing him down with a secure, heavy arm.

He leaned over Sigma. “I almost thought you would be the only normal one in this group but I was wrong.”

With a grim expression, Sigma looked up. He could get rid of him easily. With the enhancements, it was nothing at all to overpower any normal soldier. Kicking him off would be less effort than walking up a single stair. But he didn’t want to get in too much trouble for heavily injuring someone, especially not after being the one to start the fight.

“He’s going to die out there and there’s nothing you can do!”

Then and there, Sigma decided that he’d heard enough and didn’t care anymore.

Without a warning, he rammed his skull into Tanaka’s face. A crack could be heard, presumably from his opponent’s nose. When his grip weakened immediately, Sigma let his shin land where it hurt most. With an almost bored and cruel expression, he rolled a wincing and borderline crying Tanaka off him before blood could start dripping on his clothes.

“Good luck becoming a Hunting Dog,” Sigma told him as he walked away, leaving the man behind on the grass.

“Nice work.” Teruko had been standing at a safe distance, watching the whole thing play out. She crossed her arms when Sigma reached her but her voice was mildly amused.

“Thanks.” But Sigma wasn’t in the mood for light chit-chat. “How did the rest of the conversation go?”
She shrugged. “You didn’t miss much. He told me he had to make a phone call, so I was asked to leave.”

“Do you know who he called?” However, Teruko shook her head.

They began walking side by side. A slow pace with no goal in mind. Neither of them felt like doing any of their duties on this day but hadn’t asked anyone else to take over yet. Not many people passed them in this area of the compound, so they could talk in peace.

“What do you think is going to happen now?”

Teruko made a thoughtful face. “I have no idea. If that guy doesn’t kill him, the enhancements will…” She frowned. “I should’ve said goodbye properly.” Her voice was quiet with regret. Sigma couldn’t recall a single time where he had seen Teruko like this—she could be cold and cruel, but had a human side, too. It just never showed to this extent.

People usually assumed that the Hunting Dogs weren’t close on a personal level. They thought that they could only work together as a team during missions. Their bond, however, went beyond that. Even if they didn’t share all aspects of their lives with each other, they still considered the other members friends. A group spending time together, even though they often butted heads.

The Hunting Dogs were a mission and a home. A purpose as well as somewhere to belong.

Sigma put a hand on Teruko’s shoulder. For a second, he was afraid that she’d bite it off, but she didn’t.

“The enhancements will destroy his body and the medication he took will only last a limited time,” Teruko mumbled. “He’d still have to do the surgery.” Sigma knew as much. Hearing that fact repeated over and over again made it feel much more real and he hated that.
“Are they reversible?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t they tell you that before you got yours? They aren’t. Once you get them there’s no way back.”

Sigma nodded. “I know but—”

The worry faded and her voice automatically snapped back into the more casual military-like tone, as though she was explaining this to a new recruit. “There’s no way I can think of. They were designed with no return in mind, after all.”

“Isn’t that a horrible system?”

Her head whipped around so fast it startled Sigma. Teruko’s eyes pierced into his with pale fire.
“Are you questioning our leaders?”

Sigma froze at her voice. It was sharp, able to cut steel with only one word.

“No,” he managed. “I’m just worried for Tecchou.” His entire body was tense. His superior’s unpredictability bothered him a lot from time to time and especially her mood swings from casual to formal to furious were something he still hadn’t gotten used to.

Teruko looked conflicted for a moment, suddenly caught in between her loyalty to Fukuchi with the military, and her friend’s choices. Sigma almost felt bad for bringing this up. Not because he felt sorry for making Teruko second-guess her own values and morals, but because he was afraid she’d change her mind against Tecchou.

After a moment, she nodded. “Let’s talk about something different, shall we?” And Sigma agreed.
“What’s on the menu at the cafeteria today?”

~~~

[Fourteen years ago. 2203. 305 days since the first attack.]

“Someone—!”

Tecchou’s head perked up at the sudden voice from his radio that cut out in white noise, then silence. Without missing a beat, he grabbed it and pressed the button that let him speak.

“I’m here!” he yelled. “I can hear you!”

His heart was beating fast. It was about three hours since the operation had started and they had yet to hear back from anyone. Neither victory nor failure were certain, but Tecchou was sure of success.

The radio message meant that the Colonel was alive. He didn’t sound like he was in serious danger either. A smile almost made its way to Tecchou’s face, but he tried to stay serious and not sound too excited as he was most likely being called for backup and the situation was still uncertain.

“Where are you?” Tecchou asked.

“Barn!” The Colonel told him. “The barn on the hill. Come fast!”

Tecchou’s face dropped at the sudden seriousness of his voice. He had no time to imagine the state of things by the barn when even the Colonel had to ask for help.

“Okay. The barn,” Tecchou confirmed. “I’ll be there! Just hold on for a moment!”

He jumped up. Holding the radio close to his chest, he ran out of the room to grab his sword. When a soldier asked him why he was in such a rush, Tecchou could only stutter a few words before he had to keep running.

He almost jumped into his boots and opened the heavy bunker door but his body hit something outside. He fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Ouch! Tecchou! Get off me!” Jouno, who had stood in front of the bunker and was now buried beneath his friend, kicked him off roughly.
“Pay attention to where you’re going!” he scolded Tecchou but he was shrugged off.
“Don’t stand in the way, Jouno!”

He could tell that Jouno meant to retort something but he didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. Pushing himself to his feet, he started to run again but Jouno grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?!” His voice sounded even harsher now. “We were told not to leave the bunker. If you disobey the orders—”

“The Colonel contacted me!” Tecchou shook off the hand around his arm. “I’m going to the barn. He might be in serious trouble.”

“You’re insane. All alone?!” Jouno attempted to grab him again but Tecchou was fast to dodge. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“The Colonel trusts me! Maybe this way he’ll reconsider and let me stay with him after the war is over.” He took a few steps back again to bring distance between Jouno and himself. In the dark of the night, he could only barely see his friend. The only thing he could make out on his face was a deep frown, although Tecchou couldn’t connect that to any emotion. And it didn’t even matter, anyway.

“You shouldn’t—” but Tecchou didn’t let Jouno speak.

“I don’t care, Jouno.” He turned around. “We can talk later.”

And Tecchou ran again.

The sword in his hand didn’t feel so heavy anymore, and he had the feeling his legs had become a lot faster. Furthermore, his endurance had increased significantly. He couldn’t wait to show this to the Colonel. Combined with his new fighting techniques, he would surely prove his worth once and for all.

It began to rain. Droplets lightly hit his skin but that didn’t bother Tecchou. He liked the rain. Liked how cooling it felt, as well as its smell. How it brought life, not only to nature but also to humans. Since ground and river water were currently undrinkable, they collected the rainwater to use later. Tecchou had become more appreciative of the nature around him. The forests protected him from view and the shrubs allowed for quiet attacks. But also the parts that gave him and those around him life.

He increased his speed a bit, making sure his feet had light and feathery contact with the ground in order to make as little noise as possible. With no fights near him, he was afraid that just one misstep could tell an enemy that he was there, getting him killed. And he couldn’t let that happen, not right now.

When he found himself on grass instead of asphalt, he searched for a way with fewer bushes and shrubs and then continued there. All was hard to see at night with no lighting. And now that the moon and stars were hidden behind clouds and rain, it was almost pitch-black outside. Unlike Jouno, Tecchou couldn’t navigate his environment with only his remaining senses, so he had to be a lot more careful.

He didn’t dare to turn on the flashlight he had in his pocket, for fear that someone would spot him with the light. Reaching for his radio, he turned it off as well. It made him nervous to do so, in case the Colonel wanted to contact him again, but he couldn’t be careful enough. His superior would want him to be safe and cautious.

Tecchou continued on. The barn wasn’t too far away and quite easy to get to. Their soldiers had been watching it for days since enemies had made it some kind of base but neither party had attempted to attack the other. The lack of aggression from the men hiding in the barn hadn’t erased any tension, however, so the Colonel had decided to start an attack on this very evening.

But, as Tecchou approached the barn, he couldn’t hear anything. No fighting, not even any voices. He thought sounds might be drowned by the increasing amount of rain, but even as he was getting close, he still couldn’t make out a single thing.

He slowed down and assumed a crouching position while continuing on. The hands around his sword got more and more sweaty, he could even feel that despite the rain.

He approached the farm building from the side and pressed his back to the wooden wall next to the entrance. Holding his breath, he tried to listen for any sounds. But he couldn’t hear anything.

Tecchou sucked in a breath and unsheathed his sword. He stepped away from the wall and slipped through the entrance.

Water droplets continued to fall down on him, presumably through holes in the roof.

And yet, his body began to feel warm.

Besides the dripping sounds around and above him, all was quiet. He looked around but he was unable to see anything—both due to the lack of light and because there was nothing here—

“Hey!”

Tecchou almost jumped and he could swear his heart had skipped a beat or two. He had to press his lips together to suppress a scream.

But the voice was familiar. His head whipped around to the opposite side of the barn, where a person stood at the other entrance with their body completely encased by the darkness of the night.

“Colonel!” Tecchou yelled as he ran closer. He stumbled over his own feet but didn’t fall. “I’m glad you’re alive! Did you win the battle? Did you kill all of…?”

But the Colonel interrupted him.

“Was a child all they could send?” he asked. “How pitiful.”

Tecchou stopped dead in his tracks in front of the Colonel with the same amount of force as though someone had shot him straight in the heart. His senses sharpened while the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight. Something was wrong—very wrong. Fear spread through his body, cold like death.

Tecchou didn’t dare to breathe but the Colonel was right in front of him, there was nowhere he could possibly run now. He was exposed and started to feel small. With the Colonel, he usually never did. That was a feeling reserved for other adults and enemy soldiers but this man always made him feel so grown-up.

Now, the words he was saying hurt. Was he not enough? Why did the Colonel ask for him to come, only to call his appearance ‘pitiful’?

He’d heard tones like this in people before. It was the kinds of men such as Jouno’s father who would talk to children in that way. The Colonel had never done that. He was warm. But still, a shiver ran down Tecchou’s spine.

Squinting, he forced his head to tilt slightly and he looked up. The Colonel’s face lay in the dark, so he couldn’t recognise any of his features.

His presence, however, didn’t feel like it usually did.

The stranger seemingly noticed Tecchou’s hesitation. And yet, the Colonel’s voice chuckled.

“How old are you, kid?”

Tecchou tried to think. Think, think, think.

His legs wouldn’t budge when he told them to go backwards. They would only stand in place, trembling.

He hadn’t experienced this since that day almost a year ago. When he’d run home and couldn’t turn the corner to his house in a disgusting mix of fear that he might see his parents’ deceased bodies, and hope that they would hug him and tell him they’d been scared for his life before fleeing the city together.

Tecchou hadn’t experienced the same terror since. Until now. And it brought tears to his eyes.

“Who are you?” he managed. Despite all of his efforts, his voice was shaking and small.

“I asked you a question first,” the person reminded him. They weren’t harsh or demanding, yet a threatening tone lingered in their words.

Tecchou swallowed. “Twelve.”

A sigh. “How pathetic of them.”

The comment hit Tecchou like a freight train. ‘Pathetic’? Why? He couldn’t make sense of it but at least it freed him from his paralysed state.

He took a safe step back, then another one, and grabbed his flashlight. Turning it on, he finally shone it on the person in front of him.

His heart dropped.

He had crossed the corner to his house to find his family dead. And the person in front of him wasn’t the Colonel.

A woman looked down at him with her arms crossed in front of her chest, but Tecchou could still see the army rank insignia on her uniform beneath her collarbone. She wasn’t from here. Tecchou directed the light at her face and she didn’t squint, just kept looking at him with pity in her eyes.

“You’re too young to be here. Go back,” she told him but when her lips moved, the Colonel’s voice could be heard. The dissonance between the foreign person in front of him and the voice Tecchou knew so well made him nauseous. Maybe it was just the fact that he saw her like this which caused the feeling—but now it became so much clearer to him that none of the words she said sounded like the Colonel at all. He’d never talk to Tecchou that way.

Despite his efforts to erase all emotions from his face, his confusion and growing fear were obvious to her.

“Oh, sorry,” she said casually.

Tecchou took another step back when blood trickled out of her nose. She didn’t seem surprised and didn’t bother wiping it away. It was fresh, light red, and ran down her lips to her chin, which suddenly snapped back with a crack. She opened her mouth with a gasp, allowing Tecchou to see how her jaw got smaller, together with her teeth. Some didn’t shrink fast enough, so they crumbled and broke under the pressure.

She spit blood on the floor, along with a few white pieces of tooth.

Her hands grabbed her neck when it began to get thinner. Air escaped her lungs and forced a pained sound out of her, as her ribcage grew smaller with single ribs fracturing to rearrange themselves. The air was filled with sounds of countless bones snapping and even breaking and misplacing so badly that they pierced through skin.

Screams that left her mouth in pain had an unsure pitch and fluctuated a lot. But they were eventually drowned by more blood spilling out of her mouth and nose when her nasal cavity downsized even more and a stray rib pierced her lung.

Throughout all of this, she didn’t close her eyes even once and always kept them on Tecchou, even when the pain got too much and she bent over, clutching her chest and throat as they morphed into something different than they had been a second ago.

The soldier choked and coughed, and all Tecchou did was watch in horror.

In the place of the teeth that had fallen out, new ones broke through her gums. Like a teenager’s second teeth did they come in the correct shape and size, forcing themselves through flesh and taking their right place, even when it meant pushing others away.

The speed of the process made it appear more painful and even more terrifying to watch.

Everything left her with a jaw that looked somewhat small and crammed, a thin neck but lungs that held more volume than expected.

She was breathing heavily, even after no changes were visibly happening anymore.

It took her a few seconds to collect herself but then she completely focused on Tecchou. After she’d scanned his face, she sighed.
“Sorry, kid.” Her pitch sounded feminine now, matched her face. She spoke with an accent that hadn’t been present before but Tecchou couldn’t identify the origin. Possibly German. “My ability is to copy the vocal tract of people to precisely imitate their voice.”

Normally, people didn’t simply reveal their abilities to an opponent. But Tecchou figured it was because she only saw him as a child, not an enemy soldier or threat.

Tecchou couldn’t care less about her ability, though. He opened his mouth to yell a question but the radio attached to her hip cracked and an unfamiliar man spoke to her in a language Tecchou possessed no knowledge or skills of.

What he did understand was the tone. It was mocking and hateful, and the smirk on the woman’s face confirmed that for him.

She spoke something back into the radio. The moment she said ‘over’, Tecchou seized his opportunity to speak.

“Where’s the Colonel?!” he yelled.

“Were you close to him?” The woman asked, breaking her own rule of the first-asked question. But she was an adult, they never listened to their own rules.
“‘Were’?” Tecchou repeated at once.

Without moving her head, the soldier’s eyes rolled in their sockets and looked up to where raindrops still fell on Tecchou.

His hand grabbed the flashlight tighter before he slowly shone it to the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “But this is war.”

Tecchou barely felt himself fall to the ground when his legs gave in. His hand was shaking. The light flickered from one place to the next and Tecchou’s widened eyes followed it closely. But he couldn’t process any of it.

He saw the bodies. They hung upside down from the bars crossing beneath the roof to stabilise it. They had been tied up by their feet with their arms dangling down. Countless bodies, dressed in uniforms like Tecchou’s own. A lot of them were wounded but those were at least a day old, nothing new. They hadn’t fought today.

A slight wind moved them from time to time.

Their heads, however, were all missing from their bodies. They hung closer to the ceiling, tied up with ropes around their hair or skull.

After a moment, Tecchou finally found him. On the left side of the room hung the Colonel’s head. His eyes emptily stared at nothing at all. Distant, dead. His body hung next to him with his arms dangling down. Tecchou recognised it from the familiar scar on his left arm, almost in the shape of a bird.

Blood still dripped from the wound where his head had been severed from his neck.

Tecchou looked down at himself. At his arms, slippery and wet. Not from rain, but from his comrades bleeding dry above him.

He dropped his torch and frantically began to scratch his skin where the blood had rained down on him, but it only smudged and got caught under his fingernails. He wanted to get it off, even if that meant peeling away his flesh layer by layer.

His head felt dizzy and he had the feeling he might throw up.

His movements were frantic until a hand grabbed his wrist. He looked at it and now he could see the marks on the woman’s hands. Red, scratched skin where the ropes she had utilised to tie everyone up cut into them. They had bitten her skin and left marks. The same hands that she had used to kill everyone else. There was blood on them, which he hadn’t seen before or hadn’t paid attention to. But now he saw clearly.

She didn’t have any signs of fighting on herself either.

“Get off me!” He yelled. His voice sounded tearful but he couldn’t tell if he was crying. Everything felt too numb and too much at the same time. “You monster!”

The woman dropped her hand. She looked taken aback. Hurt, even. Her expression made him angry. That face that looked at him with so much pity, when she was the one who had killed them. Her army had attacked them in the first place 305 days ago. She had spoken into the radio to get him here.

Tecchou’s breathing became erratic. His body felt too hot and he didn’t know how to make it stop. It hurt, everything hurt. His chest was in pain and his skin felt too tight and itchy and gross, and he needed to get the blood off

He grabbed his sword.

—A radio cracked and the man sounded through the space again, sounding worried this time. A disembodied voice became the symbol of Tecchou’s grief and hatred. Yes, if he ever came face to face with him, he would cut his head clean off. Like those of everyone else who stood against him and what was right.

When Tecchou finally opened his eyes, everything was spinning. He was lying on his side but he could barely see, only the flashlight that was slowly growing dimmer, shining on the dying radio. Someone sat next to him and when Tecchou turned his head a little bit, he recognised Jouno.

“What are you doing here?” he managed.

“Followed you,” Jouno said simply. He sounded angry. Tecchou was sure it was directed at him. “I told you not to come here. You should have—”

“What happened?” Tecchou asked, cutting him off. He tried to sit up but it made him feel too nauseous, so he stayed in his lying position.

Jouno frowned at him from above in a mix of anger and deep concern. “You killed her. She didn’t even try to defend herself. Judging by the work she has done… she easily could have.” He sighed and grit his teeth. “And then you passed out immediately.”

Tecchou moved his hand to his aching head. It didn’t even matter to him that he lost consciousness. Nothing mattered.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” he mumbled.

“The Colonel? Didn’t you see it for yourself?” Jouno was distant and cold. Maybe Tecchou hadn’t really realised until now, or it was something new entirely.

Sucking in a breath to suppress a sob, Tecchou pulled his legs closer to his chest. Even though Jouno was there, he felt lonely.

“I couldn’t save him…” He didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of Jouno. But he couldn’t help it. The Colonel had once told him that it was okay for men to cry, but not for soldiers. And Tecchou believed himself to be a soldier. He should not have that humanity, and yet he felt hot tears rolling down his face. They washed some of his comrades’ blood off his cheeks and dripped to the floor where the wood absorbed them like it was keeping this a secret.

“I don’t know what to do now, Jouno,” Tecchou cried. But Jouno didn’t have an answer for him either. He merely placed a hand on Tecchou’s shoulder as his body was shaken by sobs. More words fell from Tecchou’s lips but they were unorganised and incoherent. Strings of pleads and promises to the dead.

But the dead couldn’t hear him anymore, and neither could they answer.

Chapter Text

[Present day. 1106. Seeking.]

For three days, Tecchou wandered around China almost aimlessly. He had been torn if he wanted to rent another car—and in the end, he decided to do it, since it kept him out of the public and would allow him to flee fast if any authorities tried to catch him.

No further signs came from Jouno, and that included nothing about his current whereabouts. All Tecchou could do was check the internet frequently, often spending several hours at a time browsing Russian media outlets for anything he could trace back to him. But it seemed futile.

Despite itching to leave and drive his car towards Kazakhstan and Russia, it was useless. The city felt secure. He could disappear in it like he wanted to, and he had all resources readily available. Plus, the drive would take him days. And even then, he had no idea where Jouno really was.

Tecchou sighed and slid the small phone he had purchased back into his pocket. It only held a cheap prepaid SIM card that he only used to access the news instead of permanently occupying internet cafés. He constantly refreshed the pages for crimes and crime-related news around the countries he was looking out for, using translators to memorise buzzwords that would point at acts Jouno might commit.

‘Murder in—’, ‘Violent stabbing’, ‘Mutilation’, ‘Torture’, ‘Act of Terrorism’, and many more were now the extent of Tecchou’s Russian vocabulary.

And yet, he had his doubts. He ended up learning the words for Polish, Ukrainian, and other Slavic languages to keep watch for those as well. It became an obsession, and if he didn’t check the news until his eyes were red and burning, nausea and a deep pain would grow in Tecchou’s stomach. He began sweating, thinking of all the worst-case scenarios his mind could come up with. None that he wanted to put into words.

Sleep was almost impossible due to this, and so were resting and eating. If he didn’t read every single news article that might be related to his situation the moment they broke, Tecchou could feel the flesh beneath his skin starting to itch uncomfortably.

He put his phone down, but only to rub his eyes and take a sip from his coffee. It was cold by now—disgusting even on top of the lack of soy sauce, and he barely managed to down it. He put the cup back on the table and picked up his phone once again.

He began a new cycle by typing in the words he always started with, then he hit the search button.

Tecchou almost dropped the phone.

Coughing and choking on the last bits of coffee in his mouth, he read over the headline again and again, making sure he was understanding this right.

‘Violent murder in Ryazan, perpetrator left note behind’.

Tecchou’s thumb shook when he clicked on the article. It was hard to focus. As soon as the Japanese translation became available, his eyes jumped from one word to the next without him being able to control it.

He forced them shut for a moment and took a deep breath before starting a new attempt to read.

‘On the night from the 6^th to the 7^th, a couple was murdered in their apartment in the west of Ryazan. The murderer left behind a hand-written note in Japanese, reading

Since you can’t figure it out yourself…

Police are investigating…’

Tecchou held his breath until he felt lightheaded. His mind spun, and yet his body wouldn’t move. Neither did his eyes, fixed on the sentence detailing the note. ‘Since you can’t figure it out yourself…’, written in Japanese. There was no doubt on Tecchou’s mind. There was no other way.

He finally got his thumb and eyes to move again, and he scrolled a bit further to read the article about the couple.

The husband had worked on the grounds of Dyagilevo air base in Ryazan prior to his death, although details about his job were not provided. The woman had taken up an office job to earn extra money. They had been planning to buy a house and start a family, according to their loved ones. Tecchou made a face. Somehow, people with happy lives and families seemed to be right up Jouno’s alley.

If this had been any other person committing those murders—just another criminal—would Tecchou have been able to keep his cool like that? He knew of the previous people killed. Of Jouno’s history. And yet, he found it hard to fully condemn him. He was biased and irrational, and fully aware of this fact. But when it came to Jouno…

Tecchou sighed. He would bring justice to the people he had murdered. He would arrest his former friend and make sure he would be locked up in Meursault for the rest of his life. At least, that was what Tecchou should do. He truly wondered if he’d be capable of finishing things that way.

Maybe it was the guilt, Tecchou thought. That alone clouded his mind and made him think irrationally about the situation and influenced his decisions in a negative way. He had to rid himself of that guilt in order to face Jouno head-on. See him as the despicable person he had turned into—that Tecchou had helped turn him into.

He shook his head. He could repent for those sins once the mission was over.

His thumb scrolled further down and landed on a picture of the note. Nothing else had been attached, no further details of the murder since the news was so fresh.

Tecchou clicked on the picture.

‘Since you can’t figure it out yourself’ was written in black letters on a small piece of paper. Even after losing his sight and during the war, Jouno’d continued to practice his writing, originally with the intention of going back to school one day.

The note was a typical mix of kanji and hiragana, written from left to right and top to bottom, which had always been something Jouno preferred due to the writing guides he’d been provided with. Everything had been written with precision and care, in fine lines that didn’t waver. Although Tecchou hadn’t seen Jouno’s handwriting in well over ten years, he would recognise it anywhere.

It brought back memories of notes they would pass in class, as well as the wills they had written with Tecchou and Jouno being the only names on each other’s paper. Tecchou reached into his pocket. The key chain—one of his only belongings that had survived the attacks on their home—brushed his hand. He remembered putting it down for Jouno as a token of their bond. As something Jouno could hold and remember him by if he were to die. Something his mother had given to him and always reminded him of her.

Tecchou allowed himself to linger on those memories for a moment before he left his current location and drove the car in the direction of Wuhan Airport.

~~~

As he got off the plane in Moscow, Tecchou added ‘identity theft’ and possibly other related crimes to his mental list. Keeping track was important if he ever got in trouble for any of them (which was highly possible).

He had spent around twelve hours on his travels although he’d completely lost all sense of what time it currently was. He viewed that as trivial, however, since only the vague countdown to his next surgery date mattered for him to keep track of his health. The reason why the lost time bothered him was that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and prevent any other harm being caused.

So, he immediately got a car to drive towards Ryazan.

Tecchou didn’t remember Russia as well as he remembered China. Here, he felt truly new and foreign, as he was unable to understand even a little bit of the language beyond the vocabulary he had learned, which was quite useless in everyday conversations. Even when he’d stayed in Russia for a bit, he hadn’t truly picked up on anything. Conversations had been limited to talking to his fellow soldiers in English; the same had been the case for his later stays in Poland and Germany.

It was a shame. Now that Tecchou thought about it, he kind of wished to pick up another language. The only thing he’d really been taught in the military (besides fighting) had been English. Nothing more, not even proper Japanese.

Right now, he mostly wished for Russian because, as he left the big city, he needed more and more time to decipher road signs. His destination was about three and a half hours south-east of Moscow, and the drive there was quite uneventful safe for a bit of traffic, which made him a bit restless and anxious. With his fingers drumming on the steering wheel non-stop, he finally arrived in Ryazan.

He parked the car in the apartment complex’s parking lot and looked up. A Soviet-style building in a rough, worn-out grey towered over him against the sky of almost the same colour. He took a deep breath and let himself in. Getting into the apartment of the murdered couple was easy, but it left a weird feeling in Tecchou’s stomach.

The floor lightly creaked under his boots when he entered the small place. Other than that, complete silence surrounded him. The lack of noise usually didn’t bother him but the quiet in a deceased person’s home was something that pressed down on him.

The place was just big enough for two people, but raising a child here would have been problematic, so Tecchou assumed their plans to move out and buy a house had been in motion for a while and that’s why the wife took up an office job recently.

Tecchou thought that the entrance felt cozy, despite the atmosphere and the first look of the building. Art hung on the walls and there were quite a few pairs of shoes and jackets to be found.

He closed the door behind himself to look around better.

Police and detectives had taken everything note-worthy with them, and the scene had been cleared already. Tecchou was sure that they wouldn’t find anything, as it was Jouno they were after. But he was hoping to find some more personal signs. A motive, a reason, where to find Jouno, and why Tecchou had to come here in the first place… The smallest hint that would answer all of Tecchou's questions and help him foresee Jouno’s next step.

Although, with him already mocking Tecchou’s ability to find out that Russia would be the next stop for him and Gogol, he had his doubts that he would find anything.

It was still worth a try.

Tecchou inspected the kitchen first. It was small and a few parts of the walls and ceiling appeared freshly painted. Cabinets hadn’t been cleared yet, and even though Tecchou felt bad for it, he slid a snack into his pocket. For later—he hadn’t been eating nearly enough.

When he slid his fingers over the counter and the wooden table, the furniture showed no signs of fighting or any damage beyond natural ones that happened in everyday life. Notches from an occasional plate, glass, or knife being dropped, as well as stains of hot coffee and the like. With nothing interesting to find, Tecchou moved on to the living room.

The furnishing there was a pain to look at. Clearly a combination of two households moving in together and bringing their already-owned pieces into the relationship instead of purchasing new ones together. An old, wooden style clashed with a mustard yellow sofa and modern, sleek glass tables. The picture frames next to the TV made a weird combination of white minimalist and traditional, richly decorated.

It was like the contrast between running around the military grounds and stepping from any other person’s office into Fukuchi’s, who usually liked decorating his space with heavy and aged desks and cabinets he got for a good amount of money.

Tecchou stepped closer to the pictures and picked up a frame to get a better look at the people who had lived in this place (and had a horrible taste in decoration, both individually and together). He picked up one. The wood it stood on had many scratches on it, as though many people before Tecchou had taken the frame and put it back again.

He glanced at the scratches, then focused on the photograph.

A couple in their thirties looked at him with smiles on their faces. The woman was blonde with dimples and had lovely blue eyes. The man’s hair and eyes matched in a warm brown. Tecchou furrowed his brows when he looked at him.

A few wrinkles had formed around his mouth from smiling as he did in the picture, but not so much around his eyes—they seemed absent, like the joy he knew he was supposed to feel didn’t quite reach them. But there was something else.

Tecchou knew that man.

With a deep frown, he stared at the picture. Then he took out his phone again and opened the article he had read earlier that day. Dyagilevo air base. Tecchou tapped his chin, thinking. Back during his time in Russia, he might’ve visited that airbase as part of his journey and that’s why the name rang a bell. Due to that being so long ago, he couldn’t remember the places or the people very well, but it was possible that he’d interacted with the man in the picture before.

The name on the door—Mikael—hadn’t been one he recognised, and he only vaguely remembered the face. Maybe, if he found a picture of a younger version of that man, he would be able to recall more details.

Alternatively, he was making all of this up. Tecchou didn’t know at this point, although he’d always been able to rely on his mind and memories.

Checking the other photos on the cabinet told him that they were all recent, so he moved to the bedroom.

Even at first glance, it was obvious to him that the murder had happened there. Not only were there a few blood stains left on the walls, but the rest of it was overly clean and sanitised. Furniture and personal items were in an unnatural state of complete order that hadn’t been present in the rooms before.

Tecchou ignored most of it and rummaged through drawers for old pictures. Going through people’s belongings was invasive and wrong, even if they were dead, but since it was for justice, Tecchou put aside his other values for a moment.

He found books, pens, clothes, jewellery, money, and many other things he wasn’t supposed to see. But nothing worth noting. The closet was just as uninteresting and even more boring than expected, considering the man who’d lived here had a monochrome sense of fashion, perfectly reflecting his eyes.

Tecchou went through the drawers beneath both bedside tables, then dove under the bed. When he couldn’t see, he used his hand to search for anything to grab, but there was only dust.

Making a face but pushing on, he moved a bit closer to the bed until the wooden edge pressed into his shoulder painfully. It was only then that his hand brushed against something close to the floor. He stopped and stretched his arm just a bit more until he could reach it with his fingers. Not an object, but rather the wood of the floor was sticking up a bit. Bingo. Tecchou hooked his fingernails underneath the thin board and lifted it. Like the lid of a treasure chest, the floor opened up in a square about twenty-by-twenty centimetres wide.

A big and certainly odd thing to find underneath a bed, especially considering no electrical wires led to it.

He let the wood fall to the other side, then reached into the hole he had opened up. Cold metal brushed his skin. His hand felt the shape of it, then Tecchou identified the object as a box he could lift and pull out from the opening.

He set it on the floor and slid it over until it lay before his face. He moved into a sitting position and finally removed it from underneath the bed.

The box looked like nothing special: there was barely any dust on it, and it was made of light metal. It was painted blue and decorated with pictures of different cookies as well as a brand name, telling Tecchou about its contents. But the box had been too heavy for it to only contain sweets, and those were definitely not worth hiding that well.

Tecchou opened the box with ease.

The first thing he saw was a gun. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest, so he just grabbed it with his sleeve over his fingers and set it aside. He might take it, but he was already demanding too much from the dead.

Under the gun was some ammunition that he discarded as well, a trench watch with a case, a lighter, and a few envelopes. Tecchou inspected the trench watch first. It was made of sturdy metal that had long lost its shine. When he opened it, the hands didn’t move, permanently frozen at 10:18 and 31 seconds.

A few words, possibly a name, were engraved on the inside of the cover. It had been done with a shaky hand and tools not made for scraping fine lines into metal. The letters were ones that Tecchou couldn’t read but he recognised them as Cyrillic. Maybe the watch had belonged to the man who had died here, or maybe it was a relic from someone he had been close to. Mikael wasn’t alive anymore, so Tecchou couldn’t ask.

He closed it to put the watch down and turned his attention to the lighter instead. It was old but still sparked a flame when Tecchou opened it. Although weak, it shone in a light yellow and orange. The case was made of metal that had lasted better than the watch, but it, too, was past its prime. There was an emblem engraved on it. This time by a machine during the production rather than by hand. The military’s emblem, Tecchou thought. Faint residues of paint could still be seen in the engravings, but it had peeled off almost entirely.

Setting that aside as well, Tecchou opened the first envelope. Much to his dismay, he had to discover that the letter inside was written in Russian and thus unreadable to him. The signed-off name, however, matched the one inside the pocket watch. There was no person being addressed directly, so Tecchou could only wonder if the deceased man, Mikael, might have been the person to receive this letter.

But what was so important or special about it to keep it in a box under his bed, Tecchou didn’t know. He folded the letter again and put it back into its envelope before taking the second one out of the box. Another letter.

This time, the signed name matched the one on the front door—that much Tecchou was able to understand. So, he assumed they were letters between Mikael and another person. He opened the last one.

Besides a letter, there was also a photograph added to the envelope. It was slowly becoming yellow in the white parts while the rest was losing its colour. Still, it showed five young men, all in military uniforms with swords or rifles in their hands or hanging from bodies.

Tecchou recognised Mikael. He looked about ten years younger and, as expected, a lot more familiar. There was a rather fresh wound on his left cheek that had left the faintest scar which remained until his death. The trench watch hung from his hand by a dirty leather strap that was now missing. His rifle was over his shoulder, and he stood rather casually.

Another man Tecchou vaguely recognised stood right next to him. He was lighting a cigarette that he held in a toothy grin and in a relaxed posture albeit slightly bent over to protect his fire from the wind. There was no name that Tecchou could assign to him as of right now.

The former Hunting Dog grabbed the lighter from the floor and held it next to the picture, noticing the two matching in form even though the engraving wasn’t visible in the photo.

His eyes wandered over the men as a group. Besides Mikael and the other man standing right next to each other, it was impossible to tell if any of them had been very close. Still, they all seemed relaxed with their expressions being smiles, except for—

One of them caught his attention. He wore a different uniform, and he stood there like a match. Didn’t smile, didn’t even try. He blankly stared into the camera with an empty gaze that Tecchou had seen on many soldiers who never quite came back from the battlefield—only physically. His hair was messy and dull, and he had a sword attached to his hip. He was about seventeen or eighteen years old, from what Tecchou could tell.

He felt like an outsider and a stranger to Tecchou, as he was the only one he didn’t recognise despite knowing him. For a few of the others, it was the opposite way around: he didn’t feel like he’d known them at any point, but their faces were ones he had seen before.

But that boy…

He turned the photograph around to reveal five names. Two matched the letters from the box, two more he didn’t recognise.

The final one was written in two different ways. One in Russian, the other in Japanese kanji.

A hand covered Tecchou’s mouth and it took him a moment to make sense of it.

He recognised the name as his own.

Tecchou felt nauseous but swallowed the feeling. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he started to feel too hot and uncomfortable in his skin.

He was looking at his own face.

The hair that fell into it, blown there by the wind, was Tecchou’s. The uniform was his and so was the stiff posture.

The empty eyes of that boy in the photo—they were his own.

He jumped to his feet and ran to the bathroom, making it in time to throw up into the toilet. It hurt, his stomach and throat did. Everything did. His skin burned and his bones ached. Tecchou wanted to scream, but he didn’t even know how, and he didn’t know why either. His mind wouldn’t come up with a reason for it. No rational explanation, no rational thought.

The muscles in his abdomen contracted once more but his stomach was too empty and didn’t allow him to vomit anything else. His body still forced him through the movements and pain that it usually brought with it. This time, it only forced a bit of stomach acid out of his mouth that horribly stung inside his throat.

Once even his body had realised that his stomach was empty, he tried to stand but stumbled back down. The legs that he had trained to the point of severe pain and exhaustion, that could carry him effortlessly for days, wouldn’t even let him stand.

So, all he did was cower on the floor as his body trembled. His hand still held that photo, but he couldn’t look at it. Not when he saw what used to be him. Not when he could barely recognise that boy as himself.

A boy who appeared so different from him. And yet, if Tecchou were to really look at himself in a mirror, he was sure he’d look the same. Only a bit older.

Memories from this time of his life seemed unreachable. As though he had become a different person with every new step, like a snake shedding its skin.

He wasn’t the child that went to school with Jouno and the child that lost nearly everything in a war.

He wasn’t the child that fought his way through countless battlefields or the teenager who left Jouno.

He wasn’t the boy in the picture.

They were not him.

They were not his past, and yet they clung to him and he dragged them around until they bled and cried and made themselves and their pain known. They wailed about the war, the guilt, the people he had met. About Jouno.

Maybe they were his past. He didn’t know why he felt so disconnected from them—no—himself.

He didn’t understand how any of this could be a part of him, and why this had been locked in his brain for years and years, not connected to any feelings in particular. He didn’t understand why this would affect him so violently all of a sudden when he wasn’t even able to remember the names of those people.

But maybe those feelings weren’t about them. For once, they weren’t about others, Tecchou realised in horror.

He forced himself to stand up. It took a lot of energy to do, so he supported himself with his elbow against the wall until he was on his feet. His legs shook as he walked over to the sink and held onto it with white knuckles to keep himself from collapsing again.

His breathing was heavy and moved his shoulders and upper body every time he sucked in air or let it go. That, too, was painful and it made him feel dizzy, but he kept on breathing.

After a few seconds of building up courage and trying to calm himself, he lifted his head and looked in the mirror.

A choked yet dry sob left his lips. They were chapped and lacked colour, just like the rest of his face. His skin was sickly pale, dark around his eyes. His eyes—

Tecchou blinked once, twice.

Unlike the boy in the photo, this version of him didn’t have empty and unfeeling ones. They looked like glass with how clear they were. His hazel, almost golden irises were a strong contrast against the slightly reddened white that completely surrounded them as he stared at himself in a mix of disbelief and terror. They sat in deep, dark sockets like Tecchou had barely seen on himself before. Usually, this was something he was unbothered by, but now it deepened the crease between his eyebrows when he inspected the bags beneath them.

Tecchou lifted the picture and held it next to the mirror. He was undoubtedly the same person, just older by nine years. Still the same. With the same memories, same mind. Same story.

But, somehow, he couldn’t take that knowledge anymore.

He found himself on the floor again, the photo now next to him on the cold bathroom tiles. His hands were buried in his hair as tried to suppress the tremors with his eyes fixed on something that wasn’t there. He forced them to stay open because every time he closed them, new images would flood his mind.

Mostly from his time before the Hunting Dogs. Things that had been sitting at the back of his head all those years and now came back. His childhood, the attacks on his home, joining the military and leaving Jouno, and then eventually his departure from the country.

His stay in Russia also floated around his mind. None of the memories were big ones. He had mostly spent time with the others in the picture, but their conversations had never been overly personal or deep. And yet, they had felt a connection, perhaps through some shared experiences. He couldn’t remember their names and wouldn’t have remembered the people if it weren’t for the photograph. But he could now recall the bond and the occasional warmth he had felt in their presence.

Tecchou tried to stop himself from crying. So, so desperately. Because soldiers were not humans, and he shouldn’t cry.

So, he didn’t. No tears escaped him. But he couldn’t stop his staggered breaths, the dizziness, and the trembling of his entire body. Perhaps this was worse than crying. And yet, Tecchou couldn’t help it.

At some point, his body became weak. He sank to the floor instead of his sitting position and hugged himself like he had done the day the Colonel had died. But this time he was alone. Jouno wasn’t there to put a hand on his shoulder—distant and cold. Before, it had felt close to Tecchou. They had always comforted each other until Tecchou drove a wedge between them without even fully realising it.

He grabbed his hair again and bit his lip until it bled to suppress a scream he was afraid might break out of his lungs.

He wondered what his child and teenage selves would say if they saw him now, in this state. What would the young man from the picture think? Would they be disgusted with him for being so weak, even after all of the work he had done on himself over the years? Would they be afraid of themselves and their future?

Tecchou had never thought that there would be a reason to feel any of this towards himself. He had been okay with his life, or at least he’d thought so. But now, it was all crashing down on him. And he didn’t have the power to stop it and fight back.

He tried to keep telling himself that his life wasn’t wrong, however, after already learning how unjust his past actions had been, Tecchou found that harder to believe now.

Like this, miserable on the floor of a deceased man’s bathroom, Tecchou hoped for his pain to end. But he knew that it wouldn’t unless he stopped it himself and made up for what he had done.

Chapter Text

All men in the picture were dead, except for two: the man the letters had been addressed to—by the name of Andrei, which also matched the watch’s engravings—and Tecchou himself. Tecchou discovered as much when he typed their names into a search engine after waking up on the floor of the bathroom.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he had fallen asleep, as it felt like days and mere minutes at the same time. Checking the time on his phone didn’t help him either since he'd completely lost sight of it after landing in Russia with no idea when he’d gotten there.

His research had led him to other conclusions: Mikael was the only one who had been killed by Jouno, as the other two had died in a car crash four years ago, and a more recent suicide a couple of months prior to Mikael’s passing. Tecchou didn’t suspect that Jouno would have anything to do with those. But he did think that his former friend targeting Mikael hadn’t been a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

He twisted and turned it in his head, but he wasn’t able to figure out a way in which Jouno could have found out about Tecchou’s connection to these men when even he could barely remember it himself. It had been confidential and sensitive information kept by the military, and it seemed impossible to him that Jouno could have obtained that so easily and in such a short amount of time.

As far as Tecchou was concerned, Jouno had never even known about him visiting Russia. The only thing the Hunting Dog had mentioned was being stationed abroad, but none of the countries he had been to were ever mentioned to his friend back then.

He hated not knowing an answer to this question, since there might be a lot more details Jouno knew about him—and that made him even more dangerous.

Tecchou let out a sigh and tried to focus on the current situation rather than overthinking this.

Andrei was very much alive and worked in Ryazan. He had apparently retired from the military shortly after Tecchou had left the country, but it was impossible to guess why. His new occupation since then was a stable office job in the centre of the city, at a telecommunication company.

That was all the information Tecchou had been able to find with the quick searches he had done. No address, marital status, or phone number. Only the job, as he was listed on the company’s website without a picture. But that would be more than enough.

Tecchou finally managed to push himself off the bathroom floor. His knees almost gave in but he held onto the wall until he felt stable enough to walk. It took him a few steps to recover, but the rest of his short walk to the bedroom went well enough.

He put everything the small box had contained back inside, including the gun and lighter, before he took it with him and left the apartment.

Checking the time once again, his phone told him it wasn’t even noon. From that, he deduced that a new day had come and that he would have ten days left until his next surgery—or until his body began to fall apart. Ten days was plenty of time for a Hunting Dog.

Tecchou got into his car as it was beginning to rain and placed the box on the passenger seat. He reversed and drove out of his parking spot.

The way to the office was a mere ten minutes, and the building Andrei worked in wasn’t hard to find. It was an old, bland building in a sad grey, much like the apartment complex he’d left just now. From the ground, Tecchou counted about eighteen stories by the amount of window rows there were. The company’s logo stood atop the building, but its letters weren’t glowing anymore.

It appeared gloomy, especially when water began to run down the façade.

He got out of the car. Opening the trunk, he quickly tossed in his weapons to make sure nobody saw them, then he locked his vehicle and pocketed the key.

Tecchou looked around but he saw no people leaving or entering the building, so he sprinted there through the downpour and made his way in with the cookie box under his arm.

Behind the door, he passed through was a small entrance area. It had a few dying plants here and there while the rest was mostly empty. The only piece of real furniture was a reception desk that Tecchou walked right up to.

The woman sitting behind it eyed him suspiciously and waited until he arrived before greeting him. Tecchou mumbled back a ‘hello’ in Russian, then turned on his phone to show her a sentence translated from Japanese (he really couldn’t manage more than a simple greeting, could he?).

‘I have a few items for Andrei from a deceased friend. Could you tell me where his office is?’

The woman’s eyes went back and forth between Tecchou’s face and the message before she sighed and wrote down a few words on a piece of paper.

Tecchou didn’t need a translator to know it read ‘Floor 13, office 11.’

He thanked her in carefully rehearsed Russian before making his way to the elevator.

It was a bit unsteady but did its job well enough by taking him up. It announced the thirteenth floor with a short dinging noise.

As Tecchou exited the elevator, he began scanning every single name tag next to the offices. People dressed in business casual attire curiously perked their heads out of their assigned spaces to stare at the newcomer who clearly didn’t fit in there. Besides being a stranger and not seeming like a normal visitor, Tecchou probably looked further from human than usual with his clothes all messy and dirty, and a face like he’d been dragged through hell. So, he couldn’t blame them one bit although being stared at made him uneasy.

Luckily, nobody approached him, so he didn’t try to speak to anyone either and just kept reading the room numbers and names until he found office eleven.

Tecchou came to a stop in front of the door. He sighed deeply and straightened his back and clothes to make himself at least a tiny bit more presentable. A million things went through his head when he raised his hand to knock, but he pushed it all down. Not now. Overthinking was useless.

His knuckles hit the wood twice. A voice answered but Tecchou didn’t understand the words, so he just opened the door.

There was a disconnect between the things he saw inside. It was the typical corporate office that was bland and impersonal with boring walls, a high cupboard for files, only a small window to let in light, and a cold lamp on the ceiling that could give anyone a headache with its buzzing.
On the desk, however, stood picture frames and small trinkets in all shapes, sizes, and colours. The working space was highly personalised and felt almost warm and welcoming against the rest of the building.

Then, lastly, there was a man at that desk. His face looked rather serious and Tecchou recognised that look: he was on his guard since he hadn’t been able to see the person entering the room before he had fully made his way through the non-transparent door. Tecchou could very well have been an enemy coming to kill him. Andrei was a soldier, not someone who was supposed to sit in a bland office with cute trinkets on his desk. And yet, he did. But that hadn’t killed the soldier inside—not even after many years.

The door fell shut behind Tecchou and blocked out all noise from outside, leaving them in silence except for the electrical noises. Neither of them moved, only their chests as they breathed.

Andrei stared at him, possibly attempting to figure out just who this visitor was. Maybe he thought about why he seemed so familiar. Tecchou stared back at him, trying to compare him to the man in the photograph.

He was barely recognisable.

He looked healthy. In his forties. Was at a good weight, had a kind face. His eyes—Tecchou could almost feel jealous when he saw life in them and the small creases in the skin around their corners.

Tecchou pressed his lips together for a moment before deciding to speak.

“Andrei,” he said, seemingly startling the man a bit, “I’m Suehiro Tecchou. We met around nine years ago but only spent a short time together. We…”

“Suehiro…” Andrei repeated. He suddenly appeared to snap back into reality. “Ah yes, of course! Please, sit down.” He motioned at the chair on the other side of the desk, opposite from his, but it wasn’t an order like the ones Tecchou usually received. But still, he did as he was told.

Sitting down allowed him to get a better look at the trinkets and picture frames. A few of them faced their owner so that Tecchou couldn’t see them, but others were turned in his direction as well for any visitors to look at. Two of those showed photographs of the former Russian soldier and other people, presumably his coworkers judging by the professional distance between them. More casual clothes, outside, with plates in hand. Maybe a company barbeque. The rest of them showed pictures of—

“Ah, my cats,” Andrei explained when he noticed what Tecchou was looking at. He turned around the other frames and put three different cats on full display. They had been photographed in various situations, but mostly sleeping, cuddling with one another, or fighting playfully.

“They’re lovely.” Tecchou offered a hesitant smile and Andrei did the same. “And those…?” He pointed at the trinkets.

“They’re um…” He seemed to search for the correct English term for a moment. “Souvenirs! My coworkers like bringing me things from their holidays to… Greece and such.”

Tecchou nodded in understanding. From that, it was safe to assume that Andrei was well-liked around his office. Even though Tecchou could barely remember what kind of person the soldier had been, he was happy for him.

“So…” Andrei tried to get a hold of the conversation. “What brings you here? After all this time?” His last question didn’t sound bitter. It was curious, maybe a bit worried, but his voice was clear.

Tecchou swallowed before putting the box on the desk. Andrei’s eyes were on it, but he waited for him to speak.

“Have you heard of Mikael’s death?” When Andrei nodded, his eyes became a bit sadder. Tecchou continued, “I found this box in his apartment, and I thought I should give it to you.” He motioned for Andrei to open it.

The office worker’s fingers hesitated a little and trembled ever so slightly when he opened the cookie box. The soldier-like precision had disappeared a little after all, Tecchou thought. And so had the hardened skin from holding and handling weapons on the daily. Tecchou didn’t watch many soldiers retire, so seeing those signs was interesting.

Andrei took out the trench watch first. He circled his thumb over both sides before opening the case. His face considerably softened when he looked at his own name engraved on the inside.
“This was Mikael’s,” he mumbled, putting it aside to take out the lighter. “And that was mine. I gave it to him when we parted ways.”

His smile didn’t fade even though his eyes drooped a little, but Tecchou could tell that he was thinking fondly of old memories.

The next item he took out was the gun. “Mikael’s. He made his first kill with that one.” The gun went into his drawer, probably to hide it in case anyone came in.

Then, Andrei took out the letters. He put away one after seeing that he had written it himself.

“He never sent these to me.” He frowned and turned the remaining ones in his hand. Andrei opened the first envelope and Tecchou watched his eyes jump from one word to the next, all the way down the page. His expression mostly remained neutral, safe for a mild smile towards the end.

The letter was put back without another word and Tecchou was left wondering about its contents. However, it was none of his business, so he kept quiet.

Andrei read the last letter with the same expression, then took out the photograph that Tecchou had put back in there. He held it up next to Tecchou’s face and smiled.

“You’ve grown so much,” Andrei told him.

Tecchou’s breath got caught in his throat. Another wave of panic threatened to drown him, and a sudden pain grew in his stomach. He clenched his jaw so tightly he was afraid his teeth might shatter. But Andrei patted his shoulder which kept him grounded. The panic faded with the firm touch, but the pain remained.

“I’m sorry, boy.” He removed his hand and put both on the photograph, as though to steady them. They were in the same boat, Tecchou thought. Change seemed to have come all at once when one was confronted with their past and it was overwhelming.

Tecchou shook his head. “It’s okay.” He swallowed hard and grabbed his own hand with his other one, letting his thumb draw circles into his palm. He tried to concentrate on that feeling before asking, “How different do I look?”

It was a stupid question. He’d seen it for himself, after all. But maybe he’d seen the wrong thing in the photograph and his face.

Andrei frowned but he clearly understood where that question came from. Tecchou didn’t think that many people would, but the person in front of him did. He looked at the picture, then at Tecchou again.

“Older. More mature. Tall and strong. You’re still the same person, though. I know it may be hard to grasp sometimes.” He paused for a moment. “The past may not let you rest, but you can let the past rest. It will take some time, but believe me. It can work.”

“Are you letting the past rest?”

Andrei glanced at the lighter and the watch, at the letters.

“Some of it,” he said. “I took up a new job, left the war behind. The killing. I care for lives now instead of taking them, even though it’s cats. I’ve found a new love in them after long leaving behind the one I used to feel—and now that the person it was directed at is dead, I’m hoping to put a close to that chapter once and for all.”

Andrei sighed and his look became a little distant. It hadn’t been Tecchou’s intention to reopen old wounds, but he was glad that he got to hear about this. In an odd way, it made him feel more at ease.

“I buried the one I loved long ago. Figuratively. It helped me move on and create a disconnect between now and then,” Andrei explained. “I’m still the same person. I can’t deny the past, and it is a part of who I am, but I can’t forever cling to it. I’ve changed. And I’m glad about that. The letters and artefacts, while nice, luckily don’t affect me as much anymore. Not because I’m pushing those feelings down, but because I’ve simply grown.”

“How long did that change take?” Tecchou tried.

“You seem impatient, and I understand.” Andrei smiled encouragingly. “It takes time, but it will happen, believe me. Come to terms with everything first, let your body feel everything. If you even want to move on like I did is a different question.”

Tecchou tilted his head to the side. He didn’t see a point in letting his body ‘feel everything’, whatever that meant. He’d done that the day before and it had brought him nothing but a horrible headache. Maybe Andrei was right and Tecchou was impatient, but how could he not be? He wanted to function normally and go back to how things were. He wanted to stop feeling so badly that it made him nauseous. And he didn’t understand the other parts about ‘burying’ a person in ways that weren’t literal.

Andrei didn’t give him time to ask about those things.

“Bringing me this isn’t the only reason you came here, is it?” His eyes were narrowed, as though he was a cat who’d heard a strange noise in the distance. Choosing to stay calm and casual, Tecchou simply nodded.

“I suspect that the man who killed Mikael will try to kill you as well.”

Andrei was the type to take this information well, as he made an understanding sound. “And you intend to do something about that?”
“Exactly,” Tecchou confirmed. “However, I’m unsure where he might attack.”

A pair of eyes was on his face for a while. Usually, Tecchou didn’t feel like people actually looked at him. His person wasn’t of interest to most since he was a soldier to the majority of people in his life. They didn’t care about his personality, feelings, or well-being. So, they never stopped to look at him and understand him. The other Hunting Dogs, however, had done exactly that because Tecchou’s personality and quirks were important to how the group could work, even in combat. They also cared for him as a friend.

But now, there was more involved.

“Is he a person you need to bury?”

Tecchou was startled for a second. His attempts at predicting what would be said next had gone in all possible directions except for this one. He tried to understand the implications of that sentence but then pushed it away.

“I’ve come to arrest him.”

The man in front of him glanced at him with a slight frown, but then he nodded. “Very well. What leads do you have?”

While Tecchou sorted out his thoughts, Andrei pocketed the watch, the letters, and a few select souvenirs from his desk, almost as though he suspected he wouldn’t come back to it. Maybe, in case he were to die, he wanted something important close to him. Tecchou felt the bunny keychain press against his leg through the fabric of his coat and pants.

“Since I was only able to find your place of work, I’m guessing that this would be the same for Jouno. Unless he found your address through data here, I don’t think that he would be able to reach your home.”
“This company does have my home address,” Andrei noted. That didn’t help Tecchou’s case. If they were digital, Tecchou was sure Jouno and Gogol could access them. If they were physical, that would be even easier.

Tecchou thought about how he had found out about this place. Mikael’s murder. The apartment. The secret box under the bed. He looked at the box. It reflected some of the ceiling light off its shiny metal.

Tecchou’s heart almost stopped.

“We need to evacuate the building,” he said. “They’re probably listening in already!” He jumped from his chair while Andrei looked at him, confused.
“How do you—”

“The box,” Tecchou started, “was under Mikael’s bed. I only found it because the floorboard was noticeably raised. And the box didn’t have any dust on it. Jouno wanted me to find it, I’m sure of it. He wanted me to find it and come here. And he knows I don’t have access to your home address.”

“But how does that fit into his plan of killing me? He shouldn’t have given you hints then.”
“You were only the bait.” Tecchou grew restless as he tried to think of what to do. “At the end of the day, Jouno wants to kill me. And only me. Everyone else in his way is either a casualty or someone who can be used to hurt me.”

“I understand.” Andrei took the gun and ammunition before offering it to Tecchou. “Are you armed?” Tecchou shook his head. He had left his sword in his car, well hidden. Looking back, that had been a major mistake, but he hadn’t wanted to take a big weapon to this meeting. He hadn’t even brought his knife.

“Then take the gun.”
It was slid across the desk and Tecchou took it while thanking him.

Andrei stopped him from turning around again and slid his hand into his pocket. This time, he hesitated for a split second. Just long enough for Tecchou to pick up on it. Finally, Andrei revealed the lighter.
“And I also want you to have this. It will light your was the same way it did mine.”

Tecchou was unsure. Andrei’s moment of hesitation made him stop dead in his tracks to think. It had been precious to Mikael, as it had been in that box all this time, and had originally belonged to his friend. But even with Tecchou’s uncertainty, the other man didn’t seem to change his mind. He kept his hand up with the lighter on his palm, not even shaking the tiniest bit.

So, Tecchou took it. He inspected it in his hand all over again. It was heavy but felt smooth under his touch from the many thousand times it had been turned in someone’s hands and flipped open. The scratches from other metal objects had been evened out—not with sandpaper, but with years of use and care. Tecchou wondered how recently Mikael had put the lighter to rest. How recently he had decided to bury the man who still stood in front of Tecchou.

“Thank you.”

Finally, Andrei stood up as well.

“How would you like to proceed? Probably not by calling the police?”

Tecchou shook his head while grabbing his chair to drag it into the middle of the room. He stepped on it and flipped open the lighter.

“Give me a piece of paper.” Just a moment later, Andrei put one into his hand.

Tecchou raised the lighter and the paper to the ceiling, right underneath the fire alarm. He held the flame to what used to be a sturdy tree, and it was ignited almost immediately. Yellow and orange flames ate at the piece. It turned brown and black, continuing even when Tecchou removed the source of the fire.

Smoke began to rise. Not much, but since it was so close to the alarm, it took only a moment until an excruciating noise raced through the air and filled the entire building within a second. Tecchou could already hear other offices being opened and people nervously talking to each other, unsure of what to do.

Andrei sprinted to the door and opened it enough to stick his head out. He yelled something in Russian, causing people to finally begin moving.

Tecchou jumped down from the chair and dropped the remains of the paper to put it out under his shoe. Following that, he pocketed the lighter, putting it where the keychain was.

“Alright then,” he said. “Thank you for the help.”

Andrei nodded.
“Be careful,” he told him.

They simply stood in silence for a moment before Andrei opened his arms slightly. Tecchou hesitated for a second. It was odd to receive affection from anyone, let alone someone who barely knew him. Sometimes, a person saved by him would throw themselves at him and express sudden affection and gratitude, but this wasn’t the case here.

It was an honest offer. Tecchou took it by stepping forward and letting Andrei pull him in for a hug. It felt familiar. Tecchou wondered if they had done this before.

“Be safe.”
Tecchou hummed. “You too.”

After patting his back, Andrei let go of him and opened the door again. “I don’t know how fast the firefighters will be here. You maybe have ten or fifteen minutes.”

Tecchou nodded. “Jouno will come out now. Then, ten minutes will be more than enough.”

A smile was on Andrei’s lips, and to Tecchou’s surprise, it reached his eyes. A kind smile, that of a friend. It reminded him of Sigma and Tecchou found himself missing the other friends and colleagues he’d left behind. Letting people get close to him and losing them again had always been hard on him, but that was only natural.

And sometimes he just couldn’t let go.

Andrei and Tecchou said their goodbyes, and the older man left through the door to disappear in the stream of people evacuating the building.

Tecchou waited for a bit until he couldn’t hear any more steps. Then a bit longer, just to make sure there was nobody left on this floor. That’s when he stepped out of the office.

The halls were indeed empty. He walked to where he had come from, but the elevator had been disabled, so he decided on the stairs through the door next to it. Luckily, nobody was coming down anymore or else he might have been urged to descend as well.

The only thing he could hear was the blaring alarm echoing off the concrete walls, and the heavy rain against the single window. Nothing else, no sign of Jouno.

Tecchou started walking up the stairs. He wondered if Jouno knew where he was. If he was waiting somewhere for him, or if he was searching for Tecchou as well.

The alarm would probably make it harder for Jouno to find him first and surprise him, which made this a bit easier—or at least Tecchou hoped so. He still moved at a decent pace, not wanting to use all of his energy and breath on sprinting, so walking a bit faster than usual had to do the job.

When arriving on the next floor, Tecchou looked outside the window to see all employees gathered at a safe distance in the parking lot. From up here, he couldn’t recognise Andrei, but he was sure that his former colleague was somewhere down there as well. It gave him a secure feeling.

Deciding that it would be best to start from the top floor and make his way down from there, Tecchou ascended until he reached the eighteenth floor. He walked down the hall but he could see nothing out of the ordinary. All that was there were offices that had been abandoned at once. People ripped out of their normal lives by a sudden alarm they deemed to be life-threatening. But it had to be done. It was the only way to protect these people from impending danger.

Tecchou loaded the gun and began carrying it in his hands. He preferred his sword, but running to his car to get it and back was not an option. Continuing like this was what he had to do now.

He ran around a corner and found a rather big two-winged door. Someone important must usually sit in there, Tecchou assumed.

He slowed his pace and walked up to the door to press his ear against it, but he couldn’t hear a thing.

His right hand held his gun. His left hand was on the door handle. Both were shaking slightly, so he tightened his grip until his knuckles turned white. This shouldn’t happen. He was a Hunting Dog, he had no right to be nervous—he didn’t fear injuries or death, so he was unsure what might be causing this.

He shook his head, then pushed the door open and stepped in.

The moment Tecchou appeared in the room, he lost his footing and was thrown back, only air beneath his soles and around his body.

His landing was hard. The right side of his body hit the ground but luckily, he didn’t lose his gun in the blow. The ringing in his ears was so loud that it drowned out the fire alarm, and loud enough to hurt inside his head. Surprisingly, his body didn’t hurt much even though his arm, hip and ribs must surely be bruised.

Tecchou was on his feet again within the next second and he whipped his head around. One of the doors had been blown out of its hinges. The other one barely clung to its original position. They’d opened like a curtain to the transformed scene that was now the meeting room: where the wall opposite to the doors had been was now a hole, ripped into it by an explosion. The large, wooden table in the middle was on the floor with splinters laying everywhere and sticking out the walls. Somehow, nothing had hit him. This could have ended much worse for him, he thought.

Tecchou needed to take cover, but he was sure that he would play roulette with his life if he carelessly ran into any of the other offices. So, he closed his eyes for a second to gather strength and sprinted into the office that had just exploded.

He ran inside, slammed the remaining door shut, and pressed his back to the wall next to it.

His heart was beating too fast, his hands were sweaty and still trembling. He had been in situations like this more times than he could count, and yet it was taking too much of a toll on him already. He silently commanded his hands to stay still but they didn’t listen.

Tecchou tried to force himself to think. The bomb hadn’t exploded in a way that would have killed him. It had been triggered by the window at the exact moment Tecchou entered the room, so he assumed there to be a mechanism, a sensor, or a camera watched by someone activating the bombs remotely.

He was torn. Usually, a sudden attack with explosives would be designed to kill someone, but that wasn’t Jouno’s style at all. Like he had confined in Tecchou when they had been only children: he enjoyed the sounds of people suffering. Then why wasn’t he here to listen to Tecchou die? It made little sense to him.

Unless… he tried to think. Maybe the explosions were only in place to mess with him. Jouno wanted to drive him to his limit, maybe make him run around like a lab rat in a maze. Making him dance like this might be entertaining in the end, when it forced him right to Jouno.

Slowly, the ringing in his ears stopped and the alarm reappeared. It was as annoying as it had been when Tecchou lost it.

The alarm—he wondered if Jouno or someone else had predicted the fire alarm. It would hide Tecchou’s location from Jouno, so the bombs had been put in place to notify Jouno when Tecchou moved. Another possibility.

But whatever it might be, Tecchou had to keep on searching. There was most likely a way to turn off the alarm, especially for the duo he was dealing with, so he had to be fast.

Tecchou got up from his crouching position and opened the door again, then ran out of the room with the gun in both hands. His ears would be useless—against Jouno and with the constant beeping, also considering more possible explosions—so he focused on his sight. He concentrated on every single movement, even the smallest speck of dust reflecting light for the duration of a heartbeat. Anything, as small as air moving on his skin, had to tell him about Jouno’s location.

He sprinted down the hall he had come from, almost reached the stairs.

The door was close, he could clearly see the emergency exit sign glowing.

Tecchou came to an abrupt halt when he saw a black spot on it. Around a centimetre in diameter. But it was too late to jump out of range.

Another explosion threw him back and against the wall. This one had been smaller from within an enclosed space—the elevator. The doors to the shaft had caught a lot of it and lessened the blow, but Tecchou needed a few seconds to collect himself nonetheless.

He could feel a sharp pain in his back that wasn’t fixed by quickly stretching his spine, so he tried to ignore it instead.

Tecchou noted the lack of smoke and fire with the explosions, making him conclude that they might be mechanical. As far as he knew, the explosives stolen by Jouno and Gogol had been chemical in nature, so he was unsure what kind of other games he was dealing with here.

No smoke and fire did make this easier for him, but it would also benefit Jouno. Once again, this pointed at Tecchou being toyed with until he was caught by his opponent.

But for now, he was sure that the explosives hadn’t been designed to kill him. He couldn’t use the elevator from which the bomb exploded, and it had been set off too early to even harm him badly. It just pissed him off to be thrown around like that.

Tecchou pushed himself off the floor and made a mental note to pay attention to small, unmoving things as well. No matter if the circle had been a movement detector or a camera, they were his enemy and he needed to be careful around them.

The one on the exit sign had been destroyed by the last explosion, so he couldn’t inspect it any further, but luckily the door to the staircase was still intact.

He opened it and jumped down the first flight all at once, then opted for running down the second set of stairs. Opening the door to the next floor, Tecchou barged into another hallway with offices.

Immediately, he spotted another black dot near the entrance to the first room. He backed off again without missing a beat, assuming a more secure stance and covering his head protectively, but nothing happened. No explosion. The absence of it almost hurt his ears.

He lowered his arms. Maybe he hadn’t been spotted? Maybe the—

Tecchou lost his footing and flew back several metres until he hit another wall. Glass broke, slivers fell on him and he wasn’t fast enough to protect himself.

He could feel cuts opening up on the exposed parts of his skin that had been close to the glass, mainly his neck and the right side of his face, but it shouldn’t be anything bad. It didn’t feel that way, at least. Not when his heart was beating so fast and his thoughts were running wild. His skull hurt more than any cut did.

Blood trickled down the side of his face to his jaw, where Tecchou wiped it away with his sleeve.

He then opened his eyes and looked at the black circle, which had stayed intact this time.

Cameras. Definitely cameras. He wondered if Jouno’s partner was operating them, or someone else entirely. It was highly probable that the person was taking pleasure in seeing him being thrown and kicked around like a rodent. Despicable.

Tecchou pushed himself up and wiped his hand down his cheek and neck once more. Not much blood stuck to it, so he was fine. This was nothing.

His feet started carrying him past the door and he walked by offices again, more careful this time. This level was nothing special either. As the soldier scanned the area, he saw no movement. Nothing noteworthy, not even any other cameras.

He was on his guard when he walked down the next two flights of stairs, but still, nothing happened.

In the place of more offices, Tecchou found himself in an open space now. Carried by pillars instead of walls, the ceiling was bright with lights above tables and chairs grouped into small clusters. A cafeteria, Tecchou thought. He spotted a kitchen towards the back of the room, where he assumed employees had the chance to make their own food or cook for each other on special occasions. It reminded him of the military base and his dying taste buds.

The fact that the room lacked walls allowed Tecchou to oversee most of it with only a few steps. He walked to the middle of the room to get a good look around, and—

He froze. A sudden, deafening silence filled the building like a flood, spreading into every last corner. It painfully crept up Tecchou’s back and grabbed his shoulders with a force that hurt.

The alarm had stopped.

The blaring fire alarm, that Tecchou considered a great help, had ceased to exist completely from one moment to the next.

His ears popped at the sudden lack of sound and his spike in anxiety.

He stopped breathing. Didn’t move, didn’t even dare to let his hands tremble anymore. At the same time, he needed to relax his muscles. But also keep his eyes open, yet unmoving.

Tecchou wished he could stop his heart and pulse. Wished he would die on the spot because the dead made no noise.

Nothing was moving, not in his field of vision, but Tecchou didn’t dare to let his eyes scan the area. He didn’t blink, even when his eyes started burning.

This wasn’t good. It put him at a clear disadvantage against Jouno, whose hearing had rapidly improved over time. The change had been so sudden that Tecchou’d barely been able to keep up with it back then. But he had managed to adjust and learned how to adapt over months. But none of the things he had done all those years ago would help him now. Not when he was being hunted by Jouno.

At this point, Tecchou was sure that the explosions had filled two purposes he’d suspected before: to irritate and harm him in minor ways, and to give Jouno his location. Yes, he was a rodent. What animal represented Jouno was still up in the air, but Tecchou was sure he was a predator whose hot breath was touching the back of his neck already.

It had only been silent for a few seconds when Tecchou became overly aware of the sounds his body made. His blood rushing through his ears became a deadly tsunami drowning entire cities, his muscles moving were an earthquake capable of breaking apart mountains.

When he started feeling light-headed, he was sure the next inhale would be a tornado. No new air streamed into his lungs, so he made a quick and risky decision.

He sucked in a breath big enough to provide his body with oxygen and, at the same time, he dove down. Although he couldn’t see it, he could clearly feel the breeze of something flying over his head, narrowly missing. As he rolled a metre away and got to his feet again, the object hit a wall and presumably stuck there, since Tecchou didn’t hear it fall to the ground.

The second he was upright on a knee and a foot, Tecchou pointed the gun in the direction he had come from.

“You’re fast,” Jouno complimented with his tongue so sharp it could cut air, but Tecchou didn’t feel like small talk.

“I’m sorry, Jouno!” he said back, firmly. “I know that I—”

But Jouno interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “I don’t want to hear it! And it’s too late for your empty apologies anyway!”

The man in front of him carried himself the same way he had at the airport. But where his words there had been neutral, they had deteriorated during their fight. Tecchou was sure that this process had only continued, and it made him nauseous.

He’d been prepared to see Jouno again. He’d known that there’d be another confrontation today. But actually having Jouno stand in front of him made a knot form in his stomach. The concepts of burying a person as well as saying that he’d arrest him escaped his mind against his will.

“I mean it!” Tecchou’s voice sounded almost pleading. He let it happen. Just for a moment, he would allow his emotions to speak in front of Jouno. Maybe this was what Andrei had meant by ‘letting himself feel’. Maybe this was the right way, even though Tecchou didn’t even know what path he wanted to take. If he let it all spill from his mouth, let his heart slip past his lips, then maybe Jouno would understand.

“Jouno,” he started anew. “I’m sorry. I wish we could resolve this another way.”

No reply. He was still listening, though. Jouno’s guard wasn’t down by any means but he didn’t currently have a weapon in his hands. Good. Anything was fine as long as he listened. Tecchou didn’t care to choose his words carefully since sanitising them as well as his feelings would not get him results now. With a deep breath, he continued.

“If you attack me now, I’ll have no choice, I’ll fight you, don’t doubt that. I made so many mistakes and you’ve been saving your hatred for so long. Now you can throw all of it right at me. I'm the only one who can handle all that hate! Don’t drag innocent people into this, it’s not right! I'll bear the burden of your hatred, and I'll die with you if I have to!”

What he said strained his throat and it felt like he could bleed. His words were raw and unpolished, scratched his insides as he spoke them. But he needed that.

“Jouno. I don’t wish to die here with you. I believe that we can talk about this and go our separate ways once more.”

Jouno cocked his head to the side. No emotion had appeared on his face while Tecchou was talking, but now it showed clear disdain towards him.

“How can you dare to apologise to me and talk like that while pointing a gun at me?” he asked. His words were full of venom that burned under Tecchou’s skin. “You only began to care when this all started affecting you.”

With a shake of his head, Tecchou yelled, “You’re wrong!” He wished Jouno would understand his side—but then again, Tecchou found himself to be guilty of what he was being accused of. So, no matter his words, he wouldn’t get through to Jouno with arguments he couldn’t even stand behind.

“Please, Jouno. Stop. Let’s t—”

“Oh, shut up!” Jouno sounded more agitated than Tecchou had ever seen. “You’re still pointing the damn gun at me! I can hear your hands shaking. If you want me to stop so badly, then shoot me, Tecchou!” He pointed at his chest as he spat his words. “You know where to aim! Do it, you coward! I’ll even come a bit closer for you!”

The moment Jouno’s legs moved the slightest bit, Tecchou felt a twitch run through his arms as he aimed the gun more carefully with his finger now meeting the trigger. A spike of something that was a habit when his target approached, a defence mechanism.

It startled Jouno, even though he had been the one to taunt the soldier. A look of disappointment and disgust appeared on his face but he remained silent for once.

“Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees. You’re under arrest!” Tecchou threatened. A change in strategy. When talking here didn’t work now, he’d arrest Jouno and have a conversation in a safe environment. He doubted that Jouno would be willing to listen in custody, but at least he wouldn’t be able to harm anyone else anymore. And no more blood would trickle down on Tecchou from Jouno’s hands. He was sure that Jouno would call this a selfish thought.

But that didn’t matter. He shouldn’t give Jouno another chance to talk, as he knew how to get into people’s heads—and Tecchou had to admit that he wasn’t immune to that.

Jouno responded with a laugh. “How brave of you, Tecchou! But sadly, your life ends here!”

Although Jouno had called Tecchou fast, his own movements were incredible compared to other humans without the physical enhancements Tecchou had received. The Hunting Dog had trouble following his hand as he grabbed something inside his vest and pulled out a knife. Not even a heartbeat’s length later, it was on a course to splitting Tecchou’s skull, but he aimed the gun at it and pulled the trigger before it could reach him. The bullet collided with the knife and it fell to the floor out of Tecchou’s line of sight.

Something else flew past him and left a sharp pain behind on his cheek. Tecchou remained in his position in shock when the knife ended up stuck to the wall.

He had been so fixated on Jouno’s right hand that he hadn’t noticed his left one moving. Mentally, he cursed himself for his carelessness akin to a beginner’s mistake.

“Maybe you’re not that good after all,” Jouno mocked.

“Shut up,” Tecchou cussed through gritted teeth in return. Jumping up immediately, he charged towards Jouno. His punch with his left hand phased through him, and so did his kick after.

“You can’t hit me, Tecchou.”

The taunting voice was getting on his nerves.

Even though he could clearly see Jouno, all of his punches and kicks went right through him, without Jouno moving in the slightest. Due to his speed, it was hard for Tecchou to see what exactly was happening with his opponent in these moments. If he knew his ability, then Tecchou would be able to work against him better.

Another punch that didn’t land. Tecchou spun around for a kick, not expecting it to hit anything.

Jouno easily blocked it with his arm and used that to make Tecchou fall.

“Aren’t you a Hunting Dog? Wouldn’t a kick from you split me into two?”

Tecchou responded by pulling the trigger of his gun. The bullet hit the wall behind Jouno after passing through his thigh, followed by Tecchou trying to ram his heel into Jouno’s knee. The expression on Jouno’s face soured after that, probably caused by the sudden noise.

He moved quickly and aimed a kick at Tecchou’s ribs, but Tecchou caught his leg and pulled at it at the right angle to make him fall.

With the intention of holding Jouno in place, Tecchou tried to get to him, but he was too slow. Jouno disappeared in front of his eyes and a shoe connected with his back, suddenly and hard, right on the spot where he had hurt himself before. Tecchou hissed and gave in to the force to lessen the impact and pain.

He rolled away from Jouno and got to his feet. He shot in his direction before attacking again immediately by elbowing Jouno, but he missed. Tecchou stumbled a few steps before coming to a standstill.

“What?!” he asked at Jouno’s pained expression. “I thought you wanted a fight!”

Jouno was the one to come at him this time, clearly agitated by his words. Tecchou avoided a knee aimed at his torso, then launched his own attack. He shot his gun in no particular direction to irritate Jouno, then finally landed his first kick right into Jouno’s sternum.

Having the air pressed out of his lungs, Jouno stumbled back and knocked over a few chairs in the process. He had to hold onto a table as he coughed and caught his breath.

“Stop resisting and let me arrest you, Jouno,” Tecchou repeated.

“Oh, shut up…” He took another knife from the strap around his thigh but he didn’t throw it this time. He ran towards Tecchou with the knife in hand and cut through the air close to Tecchou’s right ear.

The soldier attempted a half-hearted punch with his hand holding the gun, but it went right through his opponent. As expected. Tecchou stopped his movement prematurely and pulled the trigger close to Jouno’s head before using that opportunity to strike his jaw with the gun.

It was a hard hit and Jouno stumbled back again, holding the wound on his face. Some blood dripped from his lips and Tecchou wondered if he had hurt him—but that wasn’t something he should be worried about right now, as it was the point after all.

“Fuck,” Jouno swore. “You’re a pain, Tecchou!”

“I’m glad,” Tecchou retorted. He didn’t want to give Jouno too much time to recover, so he attempted his next attack.

His opponent, however, aimed a thrust with his knife at Tecchou’s abdomen but the Hunting Dog redirected his wrist with a push of his hand.

Another shot ripped through the air. This time, it wasn’t followed by an immediate attack. There was a split second during which Jouno froze. He had to try harder than ever to concentrate on what part of Tecchou’s body would move in an attack. He frowned about the lack of a follow-up when Tecchou rammed his knee into his stomach.

A pained groan came from Jouno as he held his abdomen and had trouble staying on his legs. He could only stumble away, and Tecchou let him.

Usually, he would be relentless. Jouno was right, a simple kick from him could kill a person but he couldn’t do that to him. He didn’t want to shower him with punches and point his gun at him—pull the trigger, even. He wanted Jouno to surrender and let Tecchou arrest him.

“Pavlov’s Dogs,” Tecchou explained. “You heard the gun and expected me to—”

“Don’t you dare compare me to an animal!” Jouno spat, still bent over and in pain. “I’m not like you!”

Every fibre in Tecchou’s body tensed. He clenched his jaw, then released it. “What do you mean?”

“You and your Hunting Dogs… those surgeries…” Jouno shook his head in disbelief. And yet, a wide smile appeared on his lips. It looked distorted and bitter; not like he was getting any enjoyment out of this whatsoever.

“Do you really think you’re still seen as a person when the military drains you of every last human trait? Tells you not to feel anything, to leave everything behind? But you wag your tail for them whenever they come with a new mission for you, or throw you the meat and bones of people you consider unjust… You disgust me, Tecchou! And those people don’t even trust you! They have full control over your body and keep you from leaving.”

Tecchou felt his face transform into an expression of anger. “You’re wrong,” he said immediately. “It’s a gift to uphold justice.” He paused for a moment. “How do you know about the details of the surgeries?! And how did you know about my connection to Mikael and Andrei?!”

Jouno laughed with a voice that was sandpaper on Tecchou’s skin.

“You’re so gullible it makes me sick. I thought you’d change, but…” He sounded almost pitiful, yet full of hatred. “First, you let the Colonel get into your head, then the rest of the military. And now me!” His voice was forceful and hoarse like he had to violently push himself to speak every single word. It became unrecognisably deep in emotions that Tecchou had never experienced in Jouno. A cold shudder ran down his back.

In front of Tecchou’s eyes, Jouno’s face turned into a mask of itself that showed an inhumane expression of pain, then disgusting pleasure.

It fully warped, melted off his flesh to expose muscle, then only bones. Tecchou blinked the image away. He couldn’t bear to see Jouno’s expression as if Tecchou was the most abhorrent creature in the world, even though he believed to have done that to himself.

“What do you mean?” Tecchou could only whisper his question, but Jouno only shrugged without a word, not bothering to answer.

As if on cue, the wall to their right was blown to pieces by another explosion. This time, Jouno was completely unfazed by the noise while Tecchou instinctively protected himself from any rubble or splinters flying. But those would pass through Jouno anyway.

Before Tecchou had the opportunity to react, Jouno sprinted towards the hole in the wall that led outside. He turned around when he was two metres away from it. Tecchou saw his lips move, saw the masked joy on his face, but couldn’t hear anything over the numbing ringing in his ears.

Even though he tried to stumble forward, Tecchou couldn’t seem to reach Jouno, who simply waved.

The soldier’s breath got caught in his throat when Jouno backed up slowly, then leapt backwards out of the building.

He was slipping through his fingers again, even more unreachable than before. Although he had been so close, Jouno was lost once more in the end. There was nothing Tecchou could do, he felt completely powerless against him. Even after all these years, he was the one person he couldn’t beat in a fight. Because he always ended up going soft on him and let his emotions get the better of him.

His heart ached when he watched the last red tips of Jouno’s hair disappear.

Tecchou fell as he ran closer, stumbled over his own legs and landed on the ground.

Looking up, he saw a helicopter rise from below the broken wall—he hadn’t been able to hear that, or anything else at all. The wind from the rotors pulled at his hair and blew into Tecchou’s face, so he had to squint in order to keep it from biting his retinas. From between his eyelashes, he saw Gogol fly the helicopter while Jouno closed the door without paying any attention to Tecchou.

He jumped to his feet, ran, ran, ran towards the wall. But it was too late. He had to catch himself at the exposed bricks under the tapestry with both hands to prevent himself from falling out of the building as he watched the helicopter fly away.

Then it stopped a good distance away. Tecchou leaned his head to the side for a moment.

In the next, the entire building exploded in a hundred bursts of flames.

Chapter Text

“That’s it.” Even over the high-pitched sound in his ears and the ongoing rumble from the crumbling building, Jouno could hear the disappointment in Gogol’s voice. He knew the complaints and questions would be inevitable, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dreading them.

“Why didn’t you kill him yourself? That could’ve been so much fun…”

Jouno sighed. The answer to that was so obvious, and yet it somehow burned on his tongue when he spoke it aloud.

“Because Tecchou wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t cry and wouldn’t beg. He would take it—all of it—with not a single noise. I don’t think he’d allow himself to show that pain.” He thought for a second. “If he screamed, it would only be to give me what I want. It would be unnatural and forced, not something I’d enjoy at all. But Tecchou would keep doing that to clear his conscience, and to keep my focus on him. He wants me to stop hurting innocent people. Because—”

Jouno stopped. Why? The version of Tecchou that had existed until now was distorted. It was contradictory and made no sense.

Tecchou’s voice was clear in his memory, but it didn’t fit the idea of Tecchou. The two didn’t seem like the same anymore.

Jouno shook his head. “He’s dead now. It doesn’t matter.”

While Gogol sighed sadly, Jouno sat down next to him and commanded him to move the helicopter again. They couldn’t afford to be caught by the police who would arrive at the scene eventually.

“You can let Kamui know that we succeeded,” Jouno said and Gogol made an affirmative noise.

The helicopter turned and Jouno crossed his arms while leaning his head back. There was a weirdly numb feeling in his chest but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where it came from or what had caused it. He should be happy. After all those years, he should be able to feel truly euphoric about something again. But he didn’t, and that both worried him and pissed him off.

Maybe he just needed a little longer to let this new reality sink in. He had plenty of time to do that, but he and Gogol still needed to retrieve the corpse as instructed and get rid of it, which would be a pain. They had to act before the police searched the scene more thoroughly, so he should get Gogol to place the helicopter at a secure location for later use, and then return to the site as fast as possible.

Jouno made a face at the thought of Tecchou’s dead body, squished between rocks like a rodent under the tire of a car. An ill feeling grew in his stomach, a stark contrast against the emotional numbness.

Wanting to rid himself of the weird feeling and eradicate the emptiness, he tried to hold onto the rational fact of it all, the only one that mattered: Tecchou was de—

“Alive!” Gogol yelled out of the blue, startling Jouno. The helicopter came to a halt and made a few sudden movements left and right, caused by the Clown almost jumping out of his seat. “I can see someone moving in the rubble!”

Jouno’s heart stopped for a moment. “…What?”

“I’m telling you! He’s down there, I saw him move just now!” Gogol frantically waved his arms around, which made the helicopter feel even more unstable. With that, he laughed. It was loud and manic, open-mouthed. It sent a shiver down Jouno’s spine.

Usually, not many things prompted a reaction like this from Gogol. Especially not finding out that their opponent wasn’t dead after all. But Tecchou was more of a plaything to him anyway.

Alive. Jouno could almost laugh as well. He felt his mouth open and his lips twist upwards as he sucked in air and let it press out of his lungs again with his vocal folds vibrating, which created a sound akin to a laugh. But he didn’t feel like laughing—he didn’t even know what exactly it was that he was feeling.

He had thought he had finally killed Tecchou, so why was he reacting like this? Both his reaction to his death and to the new revelation didn’t fit.

Like Tecchou, they were contradictory. Everything was, and it was driving Jouno crazy.

“Gogol!” he yelled as he forced his laughter to die down. “Get me down there, I’ll finish this myself!”

A giggle from his partner. Then, “Of course! I’m looking forward to the show!”

Jouno found himself falling. The distance from Gogol to the ground hadn’t been enough to set him down smoothly, but Jouno didn’t care. He used his skill despite the dangers and rematerialized close to the ground.

Now, he could hear people. They were distant, but he could hear their fear clearly. He paid no further attention to them even though he wished to bask in it for a little while longer.

The sudden burst of laughter still lingered on his mind but when that slowly disappeared, Jouno could feel himself skip through different emotions at lightning speed. And he could explain none of them.

He didn’t know why he felt joy. Or sadness. Or confusion. The only thing that he thought to be acceptable in this moment was the emotion that he hated feeling: throughout everything, his blood was boiling. His face felt hot and instead of laughing, he wanted to scream. His hands trembled, albeit not in fear.

Usually, he was the one to bring that out in people. It was wonderful to have them cry from naked anger. It was an emotion so powerful that it could lead to people destroying themselves in an attempt to destroy others. And he loved every second of it.

However, he hated feeling anger. All emotions made him irrational, but nothing did it like rage. Nothing else could make him talk about things he should keep quiet about or make him lash out in ways he might regret. It was the only thing that made him think he was becoming similar to his father or any of the other men he’d ever despised in his life—he’d hated them for their anger.

It was warranted, though. That was what the rational part of Jouno’s brain told him. Or at least tried to, but it was cloudy and far away. It felt like his brain lacked oxygen and didn’t let him access the logical parts of himself. It only left him with that fury he hated so much.

Jouno started running. Rain hit his face and trickled down his skin, but he wasn’t too bothered by it. He knew that Tecchou hated this weather but he couldn’t enjoy that fact now. Luckily for him, the drops cleansed the air and caught a good part of the smoke and dust particles that thickened the atmosphere and made it harder to breathe.

Jouno ran until he could feel rubble under his shoes. First small like pebbles, then they increased in size and number when he came closer to where a building had stood just a few minutes ago. His steps would usually echo off a tall façade and right back at him, but there was simply nothing like that left anymore. Only parts of a concrete skeleton still stood upright with remnants of walls that hadn’t yet crumbled. Those threw disembodied echoes back at Jouno.

The noises of the helicopter disappeared, though he was sure Gogol would come back to watch. He had been encouraging Tecchou’s death from the beginning and he wouldn’t want to miss out on that finally happening. Jouno wasn’t planning to disappoint him—not again. Not Gogol, not Kamui, and not himself.

Jouno stopped and listened. Raindrops were being split on exposed metal and concrete, on the very foundation and building blocks of what had stood here before. Rocks, pebbles, and sometimes larger pieces of debris fell or broke. The structures were moving but surely wouldn’t be for long. Bigger fragments of walls that were still standing broke apart and moved from their positions, creating a chain reaction of other parts falling.

He extended his search. Besides his own heartbeat, he picked up another one. He started running again. The rain became heavier and made his surroundings blurry as it drowned echoes in its own noise and distorted soundwaves, so Jouno felt disoriented.

The heartbeat he followed sounded far away and yet Jouno reached it quicker than he had expected. He frowned. It was too quick and light for an adult, and thus it sounded nothing like Tecchou’s, even if he were to run five kilometres to get his heart going. It didn’t resonate through a big enough body. A child?

There were other noises as well. Moving of clothes and muscles, albeit weakly. It was even too weak for a normal child. The breaths he could hear were fast in hitched, voiceless sobs.

Jouno frowned and approached the source of the odd mix of noises.

It didn’t take long for him to find the smell of blood beneath the smoke and dust, although he still couldn’t hear Tecchou’s heartbeat anywhere near. Maybe Gogol had mistaken the child for Tecchou, and he was really dead? Jouno gnawed on the inside of his cheek while thinking about that possibility.

A first real sob could be heard, although there was an effort to suppress it. Jouno stopped dead in his tracks.

For just a moment, he thought that Tecchou was that child. One and the same. It was a completely irrational thought, one born from reality mixing with memories. Ones of them lying among the rubble of Tecchou’s home and Jouno holding him. The smell of blood mixing with destruction and death as his friend cried. Jouno almost thought that he’d cried as well, but he couldn’t remember the day very well.

Back then, Tecchou’s sobs had been quiet. Jouno had berated him for being too loud while suppressing his own. The world had brought war to their home, and since they didn’t want to be found by enemy soldiers, they had to act. Even though Jouno—more through his own mindset and past than literally—had brought war to this city, that child didn’t know anyone to be an enemy, so Jouno couldn’t figure out why they didn’t scream for help.

Pulled by curiosity, he started walking again.

Even though the building had been evacuated by Tecchou, people must’ve still passed by. Nevertheless, it was a surprise to Jouno that anyone, let alone a child, would still have been around it or down on the streets after several explosions. Even though the first few explosions hadn’t caused smoke or fire, any rational person would have removed themselves from the area.

But children weren’t very rational in Jouno’s experience, and neither were they his enemies. Not allies either, but a neutral category. So, Jouno decided to take pity on the child that had war brought to their home.

Concrete moved against stone again, and Jouno had to take a quick step to the right to avoid falling debris. Dust rose. Even though it bothered him, he had to keep walking straight. The child was close.

Back then, he and Tecchou had been able to notice on time when the remains of Tecchou’s home had finally started collapsing, allowing them to flee. That child hadn’t made it. Now that he was near, he could smell the blood more than anything else and it clouded his mind. Even made him a little nauseous, although he didn’t think that the child was bleeding much.

He crouched down. Judging by their breathing and heartbeat, they were alive and even conscious but did not make a single noise with their voice.

Shallow and quick, panicked breaths mixed with a heart so fast that Jouno was afraid it might pop like a balloon.

Their head turned to Jouno. Still, they didn’t say anything. Jouno wouldn’t have been able to understand them anyway, but the silence was deafening at this point.

Usually, he avoided children like the plague. First, because he had no business with children and generally, people he dealt with did not have any kids. But also because he found them to be unpredictable and loud. He couldn’t blame them—they were children, after all, but he’d keep his distance.

Nevertheless, he knew things about children. Especially about how war changed them.

And this time, it was Jouno’s fault.

He got up from his crouching position and used his foot to lift a larger concrete plate by a few centimetres. The child didn’t move. It was only when Jouno snapped his fingers several times that the kid realised that they’d been freed.

They were quick to crawl out, using their leg just fine, which made Jouno assume it wasn’t badly injured.

Not thanking him, the child pushed themselves up and ran, leaving behind nothing but more dust.

Well, there hadn’t been a verbal ‘thank you’. But Jouno had heard the way the beating of their heart had changed.

As the noises of the child faded into the background, he listened again and searched for anything else. The heavy rain made it hard to identify other things. His skin was wet and his clothes stuck to his body, overloading his senses on top of everything.

Jouno almost began to think that Gogol had either lied to him without Jouno noticing due to his heightened emotions, or his partner really had mistaken the child for Tecchou. He almost believed that the former soldier really had died in the collapsing building. Authorities would find his corpse a week or two later. Rotten and with holes in it from vermin that made its way through the debris.

They’d try to find out who this man was, and they’d get no answers. Because the man who had died today didn’t exist like any normal person did. Unfortunately, Jouno had been tasked with retrieving his corpse—if the secret behind the enhancements was discovered like that, it would be a great disadvantage if not public and even international scandal for the military in Japan. Fukuchi couldn’t allow that scenario.

That’s what would happen if Tecchou was really dead.

But he wasn’t.

Like a moth coming towards a fire designed to burn it alive, Tecchou came to Jouno. He was close to the ground, loudly pushing rubble away as he crawled and dragged his body closer. All Jouno had to do was simply wait. He didn’t move a finger as he let the sounds of Tecchou’s heavy, staggered breathing and struggling muscles play in his ears. He was in pain and had a hard time using any of his limbs as rain poured down on him, making him heavy and slow.

Jouno had caused this. And it made him feel powerful and in control. He knew what to do to make people hurt, and that knowledge brought power. With that power, he could uphold his stability. Keep on doing what he did and never change. Hold onto what he knew.

But listening to Tecchou, miserable and broken, did not bring that feeling. Jouno had to put in a bit more effort, put his hands on Tecchou himself. Get every pained sound, all the way up to pleas for death out of him with his own two hands.

Suddenly, Jouno was done waiting.

He walked towards Tecchou with heavy steps and towered over him. Tecchou stopped at that. He didn’t say anything, only put a hand on Jouno’s shoe and the other one around the ankle of the same limb. His hands shook but despite the gesture, he didn’t speak. Pathetic.

Jouno used his other foot to kick Tecchou’s face and make him roll onto his back. As he had expected, Tecchou didn’t scream. Maybe that was what made Jouno so mad? Tecchou was an anomaly in every way. Sure, Jouno enjoyed figuring out every person on their own and discovering what would make them scream in pain. Tecchou, however, would never give him that satisfaction in a natural way—he disturbed what Jouno knew.

Jouno took a step to follow Tecchou and let his fist connect with his face. It wasn’t enough to break anything. If that was because Jouno didn’t use enough force, or Tecchou’s bones were unnaturally sturdy was something Jouno didn’t want to think about.

He tightened his fist until his fingernails dug into his palm and almost cut his skin. As violently as his enraged state allowed him to, he let his knuckles connect with Tecchou’s jaw once again.

“Why won’t you die?!” Jouno yelled. It just burst out of him, he couldn’t stop himself. The words felt in his throat like he’d swallowed a thousand screws. Jouno punched Tecchou again when he didn’t get an answer, despite his enemy still being conscious.

A kick to his side and he felt Tecchou voluntarily move with Jouno’s foot to make it less painful. It was a rather weak movement, though. When Tecchou was on his stomach again, Jouno crouched down and grabbed a handful of his opponent’s hair. It was wet, messy and dirty, and felt disgusting between Jouno’s fingers, so he tried to apply that awful sensation to everything about Tecchou.

He was repulsive. Everything about him was, and Jouno would put an end to it.

He pulled Tecchou up until their faces were at roughly the same height.

“Why can’t you just die?!” His own words shocked Jouno. Not their content, but the way he sounded so—desperate. There was a light shaking in his voice and he sounded exactly like Tecchou when he’d been on the phone begging Jouno to stop all of this. The soldier had pleaded with him to stop his actions. Applying the same emotions to his own words, Jouno placed the responsibility to die in Tecchou’s hands.

He hated it and bit his tongue until the pain stung through the entire muscle.

Tecchou said nothing and didn’t show much of a reaction at all, not even his heart. Maybe the explosions had made him deaf—it was possible. And generally, even though Tecchou was conscious, he didn’t acknowledge most of the things happening.

Once again, he didn’t scream when Jouno’s fist struck him. He let go of Tecchou’s hair at the same time and sent him to the floor roughly. No sound.

It accelerated Jouno’s thoughts that were already running at a speed where he couldn’t even grab a single one of them. His breathing was too fast and his skin felt too small for his body. He wanted to claw it off and expose flesh and bones underneath. His fingers were still dirty from touching Tecchou, though. He didn’t want to spread that onto the rest of his body.

In this haze, he felt his hands grab the collar of Tecchou’s shirt and pull him up. Tecchou hung from his grip like a corpse, not moving. But he was alive and Jouno knew that he was looking at him.

“Why won’t you say something!?” Jouno yelled with his hands trembling and his voice strained almost to the point of breaking. “Why are you silent now? Why won't you fight back?”

The questions were in conflict with each other but Jouno couldn’t think about that.

“And why won’t you die?!”

His shoulders moved with every heavy breath he sucked in. But despite the screams burning in Jouno’s throat, Tecchou didn’t answer him. He stayed silent. Endured the pain. He was taking Jouno’s relentless and brutal anger like he’d said he’d do. His promise to die together hung in the air. But at the end of the day, only Jouno was still standing. He could kill Tecchou and break his words. But he didn’t.

Suddenly, Jouno froze and all the stone-hard anger dropped from his body. Besides the rain, something different touched his skin.

It felt warm, but not liquid like fresh blood. Soft with a few rough patches.

Tecchou’s hand was on his face and cupped his cheek. Gently, almost tenderly, his thumb wandered up and down his skin while his hand rested there. Wet and dirty, but those were secondary. To Jouno’s utter shock, it didn’t feel vile this time.

The soldier’s breathing was raspy and it was obvious that he forced it to keep quiet and shallow. Air escaped through his parted lips but didn’t reach Jouno as he was held almost an arm’s length away. Rain still fell around them, but Jouno concentrated on the spot on his face where it didn’t fall.

Tecchou was careful. Didn’t say a word and made no other noise, so Jouno’s full attention was forced onto that touch alone. He could easily rid himself of that by dropping Tecchou and finally strangling him to death. But he didn’t. He was sure he stopped breathing. Both in surprise and because he subconsciously put his focus on the hand, the feeling, on Tecchou.

In a moment of losing himself, Jouno’s head tilted slightly into the direction of the touch. The movement of Tecchou’s thumb halted for a split second—he was probably as surprised as Jouno was but then resumed.

Jouno tried to think back to the last time someone had been gentle with him instead of trying to hurt him. It was long, long ago, and it had probably also been from Tecchou. He tried to remember the last time he had been gentle with someone. He didn’t like to think that there had ever been a moment where that had been the case.

His lips parted, the name ‘Tecchou’ was on his tongue as a whisper, but he never spoke it. Instead, he shut his mouth again as tightly as he could and bit the inside of his cheek where there was no touch. The taste of blood appeared, painfully snapping him back into reality. He pulled his face away from Tecchou’s touch, then rammed his knee into his enemy’s abdomen. He let his collar slip from his hands. Once again returning to a living corpse, Tecchou fell to the floor without a sound.

Jouno stood there for a moment and thought about his next step, but his mind was completely wiped. He used his wet sleeve to try and rub the feeling of Tecchou’s touch off his face, but he didn’t succeed. His movements were fast and he was sure that he’d peel off his skin if he continued like this.

Jouno stumbled back, dropped his arms. And like that, he let his legs carry him in a direction. Any direction. As long as it was away from Tecchou.

~~~

“That’s gonna leave a nasty scar,” Andrei commented as Tecchou stared at himself in the bathroom mirror with the door ajar. A gash started beneath his left eye, only narrowly missing it, but splitting his tattoo between two of the inked petals under his skin. Tecchou hissed in pain when he followed the wound with his fingers. It ran over his cheek, slit his lips, and ended shortly after.

Andrei was right. Without ability engineers and the surgeons the Hunting Dogs worked with, scars were inevitable. He had plenty of scars from before he joined the elite group, but being a Hunting Dog put them in a place where people thought them to be invulnerable and perfect. Visible scars from battles during their careers as Hunting Dogs would go against that image. So, effort was usually put in to make wounds disappear without a trace.

Tecchou didn’t mind the scar. He couldn’t care less, in fact. Some people might see it as punishment for his actions or as a sign of weakness and defeat, but Tecchou didn’t think that way. He didn’t find it unpleasant to look at either, although he’d never been one to pay too much attention to his appearance in the first place.

Right now, just the wound bothered him. Tecchou had patched it up himself, but only because Andrei had insisted on it. So, Tecchou had spent about two hours in front of the bathroom mirror with bloody and slippery hands, stitching up a gash with equipment not made for this at all: with a sewing needle and yarn. Tecchou would have preferred a stapler because at least that didn’t leave fuzzy fibres around the wound that could irritate it and lead to infections, but he’d refused when Andrei had suggested buying anything else for him.

He was taking up enough space in his home already, so he didn’t want to use the man’s kindness too much. Or his money, for that matter.

Tecchou didn’t answer Andrei’s remark. He barely did. Maybe he didn’t want the man to perceive him more than needed, didn’t want to take up any room be it physically or mentally. Not even through sound. Andrei seemed concerned about the way Tecchou acted towards him, but not necessarily bothered. He had brought it up once but when Tecchou didn’t seem down to talk about it, he’d dropped the topic.

Tecchou usually recovered fast from his injuries. Although he’d sustained a good amount this time and many of those new wounds on his body would leave scars. His face and neck were littered with cuts from the glass that had rained on him, but he was unsure if any of them were deep enough to stay. His arms, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. The rest of his body was heavily bruised and covered in scrapes.

However, those injuries hadn’t been the reason for his defeat—that had mostly been a mix of exhaustion, malnourishment, dehydration, and a building falling on him. The pain he did feel was something he could bite through. His body was damaged and bloody but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal, even if it left permanent marks.

The worst injuries were the one in his face and several burns on his arms. A lot of the burns were deep, as though his skin and flesh had been pierced with a hot sword. Tecchou couldn’t remember what could have possibly caused that, but he would live and his arms were still usable although they hurt when he moved them in any direction.

All in all, Tecchou felt okay physically. He would recover.

His mind, however, was a mess. He kept wondering where Jouno could have disappeared to. Thoughts about the things he had said about the Hunting Dogs and the surgeries were something he couldn’t shake off either: Jouno had planted a seed in his mind. And that seed was doubt. Tecchou had to poison the soil before it could bear fruit because cutting down a tree would be nearly impossible and would always leave roots behind.

Besides that, he spiralled around feelings of guilt.

That guilt was, of course, directed at Jouno and now also Andrei, who had probably lost his job due to Tecchou but was still kind enough to help him with his recovery. It was a horrible feeling that he couldn’t bite through so easily.

Maybe he wasn’t the right person to go after Jouno. Maybe there was no changing him anymore. He’d made up his mind, just like he’d told Tecchou. But then again—despite his memory of the events after the building collapsing being blurry, he could remember Jouno’s face.

How surprised he had looked. How deeply hurt. It reminded him of when Jouno had opened up to him about how he had changed. Only eleven years old, cowering against a wall and shaking. Confessed how he had started to find pleasure in people’s suffering, and how he was afraid of that and himself. He had pleaded with Tecchou to help him because he didn’t want to accept this change.

It was the same look. After all those years, Jouno was still the same at his core. And this was why Tecchou was determined that he could get through to him.

Furthermore, Jouno hadn’t killed Tecchou.

He had begged him to die but he hadn’t been able to kill him with his own hands like he usually would. It was more than obvious that Jouno had the power to finish this himself but didn’t, for whatever reason. Instead, he had tried to kill him in explosions. Impersonal and distant. Even during their encounter amidst the debris, Jouno hadn’t been capable of ending things once and for all.

Tecchou also thought about his expression. Especially when he’d finally accepted Tecchou’s touch. All worry had been completely wiped from it, even if just for a moment. Yes, there was hope.

Jouno probably didn’t want to be ‘saved’ and Tecchou didn’t see himself as a saviour in the first place. He simply wanted to fix the mistakes he’d made and stop Jouno from killing others. If that didn’t work, he would bury him—as he was slowly beginning to understand what that meant.

But for now, he wouldn’t let him go. Not as a soldier, when Jouno was murdering people. Not as a friend, when Jouno was destroying himself like that.

Tecchou had to reevaluate his goals. Only talking to Jouno had been useless, which was Tecchou’s own mistake. He’d threatened Jouno with a gun the entire time and he didn’t think that his former friend would care to hear him out again after that. And so, Tecchou settled on arresting him. He made this decision with a heavy heart. Having Jouno undergo a trial would be for the best and it was only fair. It was justice.

He was letting his feelings get in the way by insisting they could talk things out. He would put them aside once and for all and arrest Jouno—a criminal. It’s what he should’ve done all this time but hadn’t managed to do. He was weak and better off following orders than making his own decisions on this matter.

Tecchou sighed.

He felt himself growing restless. It had only been a day since Andrei had dragged his unconscious body away from the rubble, but Tecchou was itching to leave again. He wanted to find Jouno. Stop him. Arrest him. Talk to him a final time in a safe environment before letting go.

And now, Tecchou had a solid idea of where Jouno might be heading next. Things were going better. Not horribly, at least.

He stuck his head out the bathroom door and looked at Andrei.

“I’ll head out,” he announced. When he was met with silence and a frown, he added, “I’ll come back. I just don’t want to use your phone, I wouldn’t want the call to be traced back to you so easily.” Tecchou’s phone hadn’t survived the collapsing building, which wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

Andrei hummed and tossed him the keys to the building and the apartment. “Be careful nonetheless.”

Tecchou nodded and grabbed his coat. It was torn and burnt in a few places, but he didn’t want to replace it. Not when Teruko had gotten it for him. He put on his boots and tied them, then opened the door.

“Oh, and Tecchou?”
“Yes?” He turned back to look at Andrei on the sofa, a cat napping on his chest. It was a homey scene that Tecchou barely got to witness.

“It’s nice hearing you say more words than just ‘yes’ and ‘thank you’.”

Tecchou only nodded again. Ironically, there was nothing more he could say to that.

Getting to walk outside was pleasant. It allowed his sore limbs to move again as his body pumped oxygen back into them. It didn’t rain, which was good, but the sky wasn’t particularly blue either—it was cloudy and a bit windy, although Tecchou didn’t mind that.

He pulled up the hood of the sweater Andrei was lending him to hide his injured face, and strolled by the buildings of the city until he reached the first phone booth a few hundred metres from Andrei’s place. Looking around, he decided that it was too close and he would go to the next one.

It wasn’t too far away either, but Tecchou deemed the distance to be enough now.

He opened the door, stepped inside, and pulled out his wallet. The slightest bit of doubt threatened to drown him, but he let it wash over like a light wave until the sea reclaimed it once more. This was something he had to do. It was essential, even if he was nervous about it.

Letting a few coins roll into the machine, he dialled the number he had memorised and lifted the phone to his ear. The fingers of his other hand played with the cord as he listened to the beeping sounds.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for the other person to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Teruko,” Tecchou greeted. “It’s me.”

He could hear her suck in a sharp breath but she quickly regained her composure and cleared her throat.

“I’m so glad to hear from you.” Her voice was quiet as she was probably at a place where other people could hear her as well. Tecchou hated to put Teruko in potential danger like that. “How have you been?”

“It’s been rough,” Tecchou admitted truthfully. “But I’m still alive. How about you and the others?”

“Also still alive,” Teruko answered with a mildly amused tone. Then she added, “We miss you terribly. Sigma, Tachihara, and I.”

“I know. I miss you too.” Tecchou rubbed a hand over the mostly unharmed parts of his face. As much as hearing Teruko’s voice made his heart ache and made him want to go home, he couldn’t. Not right now. Whenever he allowed himself to daydream, he imagined a future where he would spend time with the other Hunting Dogs and Jouno. Together. It was childish and naïve, but the thought of it made him feel warm.

“Wait—before you say anything else, let me go to a secure location, okay?” Teruko noted. “Call me again in five minutes and we can talk.”

“Okay. Talk to you in five.”

The familiar sound of the line disconnecting played in Tecchou’s ear, but he didn’t put the phone down. He could feel himself smiling, albeit with a heavy heart. It hadn’t been clear to him just how much he’d missed hearing Teruko’s voice. How much he’d missed her. And now that he had the opportunity to talk to her, he didn’t want it to stop.

Tecchou waited patiently and counted the seconds in his head as he watched life pass by outside of the telephone box. Some strangers gave him weird looks, but nothing too bothersome. Staring people meant safety because those who were trained to watch others would do so from far away or up close—but always hidden, never with the subject noticing.

The other people who passed simply lived their lives. And Tecchou almost wished to be one of them. Somewhere in a city with a new identity and Jouno by his side. He was holding onto a ghost and a wish, and had to shake off those ridiculous thoughts.

They started falling into his head like marbles but he didn’t know where they were coming from all of a sudden. He couldn’t even remember if they’d had plans for the future before the war. They’d been eleven, so he doubted that those thoughts were remnants of past ideas. After the beginning of the war, Tecchou had been solely focused on being a soldier and Jouno had been pushed to the background of his mind. So, the thoughts were new. He didn’t know what to make of them.

It was as if his mind came up with them to stop him from arresting Jouno. They’d been planted there, and he needed to get rid of them, as they were ridiculous.

Three hundred seconds passed surprisingly quickly, so Tecchou had a distraction from his mind again. He dropped more money into the telephone and dialled the number once more. This time, Teruko didn’t even wait for a heartbeat to pick up.

“How has the Commander been?” Tecchou finally asked. He wanted to know if Teruko had talked to him about the—situation.

“Busy,” Teruko told him with a sigh. “And a bit on edge. I have no idea what he’s been thinking. Talking to him about you was rather complicated and he reacted like a man of the military would.”

Tecchou hummed. “I expected no less from him.” His voice carried a hint of sadness with it, and he was sure Teruko picked up on it because she sighed.

“When you come back, we’ll make things right,” she said. “I promise.”

They both knew this was a very extreme promise to speak aloud, especially for someone as loyal as Teruko, but Tecchou wouldn’t say anything. It was encouraging to know she had his back like that, at least right now.

“I actually called because I need your help with something,” Tecchou told her.

“Of course! What is it?”

He bit his lip for a second before he spoke again. “Do you have your laptop with you?” When Teruko said yes and he heard her reach for it, he continued. “I’d like you to access the files detailing my time between the Great War and joining the Hunting Dogs.”

Nothing. Teruko was silent except for a short, shaky breath as she sorted out her thoughts. “Are you sure?” She was hesitant. The Hunting Dogs not knowing much about one another had never been an issue between them, as they all knew how important it was to keep their respective pasts a secret. Tecchou knew nothing about Teruko, and Teruko knew nothing about Tecchou.

Of course, sometimes they dropped a personal anecdote or referenced past events, but it had never gone beyond that. The past was the past, and all that mattered was their performance as soldiers. Being influenced by bygone feelings was bad, and loved ones being revealed could have fatal consequences for innocent people.

And Teruko probably had a hunch that Tecchou would prefer to keep his past locked away.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He appreciated that she checked with him, even when he had explicitly asked her for this.

“Alright then…”

Teruko didn’t speak for a while. The phone barely picked up on other sounds, but Tecchou could hear the occasional mouse click and Teruko humming in thought as she scrolled through her laptop.

“Here we are. I won’t click on anything else you don’t want me to see,” she assured him and Tecchou made a thankful noise.

“Eight years ago,” he instructed and heard a click in response. “Poland.”
“Mhm…”

“Can you see the names of any soldiers I worked with?”

“Give me a second.”

Tecchou waited as Teruko scanned the pages in front of her. He didn’t think that his Poland endeavours had been anything too personal. At least, he couldn’t remember anything wild happening back then. He’d helped with the training of young recruits and nothing more.

He remembered the local soldier who had been in charge of the trainees besides him, but not his name. Many details of the events that had led Tecchou to where he was today were blurry even if he didn’t want them to be. Others that he’d prefer to forget were crystal clear.

“Here!” Teruko caught his attention again. “A soldier who oversaw new recruits with you, right? Mariusz Kamiński.”

Yes. Yes, that was it.

“Mariusz Kamiński,” he repeated to see how the name felt in his mouth. It was right, he was certain. “Thank you, Teruko!”

“Of course!” she giggled. “Always happy to help! Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Tecchou thought for a moment. “Yes, actually.” He fell quiet for a moment. Originally, he hadn’t wanted to bring this up and worry Teruko. But he was certain that she was thinking about the same thing.

“Do you know what exactly the enhancement surgeries are?”

He was met with silence from the other end. In those few seconds, a million possibilities flew through Tecchou’s head. Teruko could get mad at him, accuse him of questioning the authority of their superiors, get sad, and so on and so forth. She was unpredictable, which made her hard to deal with sometimes, but Tecchou had always seen her as trustworthy. That’s why he asked this question.

“I can’t say for certain,” she finally mumbled. Keeping her cool, and yet her voice sounded tired all of a sudden as if she had seen the question coming but dreaded it. “I wonder if it’s purely medical, or…”

Pause again.

“…Or?” Tecchou asked.

“Ability-based,” Teruko sighed. “Something special and extraordinary, like some of the ability-based weapons and items that exist. Either way, I have no clue what exactly they are or how they work. Let alone what you could do about them. It could be a biological parasite, for all I know.”

This wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Tecchou knew he was running short on time, but he figured that this was something he couldn’t do anything about after all—he’d have to let his time run out and accept that. Maybe, if he was fast enough to arrest Jouno, he wouldn’t have to experience too many of the symptoms. If he couldn’t get the surgery, he wondered if he’d be able to take his own life. It wasn’t something soldiers saw as honourable, but if he wasn’t a Hunting Dog anymore, then he wasn’t a soldier either.

He'd have to put aside his own values but he was unsure if he could do that.

The last option was one he’d mentioned to Jouno in the heat of the moment: dying with him. In a fight where they both ended up dead. It sounded better than taking his life, but he didn’t want Jouno to die, even if Tecchou’s death was nearly inevitable at this point.

Tecchou feared his body rotting away. But that was most likely what would happen.

He wanted to ask Teruko what she thought about the surgeries as a concept but he was afraid this would detonate a bomb he couldn’t control, so he refrained from it.

“One last thing—” He wrapped the cord around his finger until it painfully cut off his blood circulation. When he released it, he watched his skin go back to its regular colour. “Are you still in the database? Could you check who the last person to access this file was?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” A few clicks. There was a moment of hesitation, but only for a split second. That split second was enough to make Tecchou’s heart drop, no matter how cheerful Teruko’s voice sounded when she announced her findings. “The last person was the Commander!”

Tecchou became nauseous. He felt like he needed to open the door and throw up outside, but he swallowed the feeling. His hand wrapped the wire around his finger again, a bit more painful this time.

“Thank you,” he forced out. “You were a great help.”

If Teruko had noticed his sudden shift in behaviour—which he was sure she had—then she was good at hiding it. But the pause before she spoke, as well as her answer… Tecchou felt sick to his stomach, it hurt.

“I need to go now.”
“Yes, yes! Take care of yourself, Tecchou.”
“I will. Thank you. You too, please. And tell Sigma and Tachihara I called!”

“Of course!” she sang. “I’ll miss you. Goodbye!”

“Goodbye, Teruko.”

The phone slipped from his hand as soon as she hung up. Tecchou stumbled back but the wall of the booth prevented him from moving more than a few centimetres. It felt too small and suffocating, the walls came closer with every second he spent in there. His hands covered his face but his eyes stared through gaps between his fingers and at the phone that swayed from right to left to right.

Inside his mind, he could feel the seed grow into a young tree with fresh sprouts.

~~~

“I’ll take my leave,” Tecchou announced the second he set foot back into Andrei’s apartment. He’d picked up his sword from his car but hadn’t wanted to leave without saying goodbye.

“What?” Andrei looked confused as he closed the door behind Tecchou. “Right now?!”
“Yes.”

“But you can barely stand, your legs are shaking from just this walk, and—”

“I need to leave,” Tecchou rephrased. “If I don’t, then more people will die. I know where Jouno is going, and I need to stop him. Protect the person he’s after.”

An exasperated sigh left Andrei’s lips. “At this rate, you’ll just die. I doubt that you can lift that sword, let alone fight. You should take more time to recover and think of a strategy.”

“No.” Tecchou heard everything Andrei said and he truly wished he could stay at this place in a way that didn’t make use of too much of Andrei’s kindness. But he couldn’t. “I’m running out of time. Not only with Jouno, but with myself.”

Andrei looked confused and the crease between his eyebrows deepened infinitely with worry. Tecchou shouldn’t have dropped this bomb on him and now he felt bad about it, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t able to take it back now.

“What does that mean?” Andrei asked, voice small.

Tecchou sighed and asked him to sit down, as he could feel his legs starting to shake even more, just like Andrei had pointed out.

When the man complied, Tecchou poured him a cup of coffee, gave it to him, and sat down across from him at the dinner table, before he explained the surgeries. He went over all that he had ever been told, then over what Teruko had speculated over the phone. It truly wasn’t a lot that he knew for certain, and the fact that he knew so little about what was done to his body suddenly felt horrifying.

He had always seen his body as a vessel for justice. Not a person, not something living and breathing. It was a vessel he had given to those he trusted—his superiors—so they’d given him power in exchange. And that power was what he used to uphold the justice and stability he’d craved and lost as a child. The stability he wished he’d been able to give Jouno.

Andrei listened. He was a good listener, Tecchou noticed. He nodded along with what he was being told and didn’t interrupt him even once. He was a bit like Sigma in that regard. Near the other end of the spectrum was Jouno, who would habitually ask questions or make snarky comments. It had often ended in banter or their conversations going in a different direction than intended. Talking to Jouno had always been fun. And suddenly, Tecchou missed talking to him.

Jouno was also a great listener, despite everything. Even though he had had trouble showing that he cared about others, let alone trusted them, he could listen to them if he wanted. Maybe that was his way of showing he cared, when he couldn’t do it with words.

Most people saw Jouno as someone who was hard to figure out, but Tecchou didn’t think so at all. At least back when they’d been children and teens.

“Tecchou…?”

He shook his head, trying to get back to reality. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yes… I was saying that you should spend the night here.” Tecchou wanted to protest, but Andrei wouldn’t let him. “I know that you’re short on time, but running around when you’re still injured will only make things worse and harder. I’m sure you understand as much. So please. Take at least one more night to rest up. Eat well. Give your body time to recover. Okay?”

Tecchou only looked at Andrei. He scanned his face, although he could see nothing but genuine kindness. It was rare that Tecchou was met with such a look, especially considering the kinds of people he usually worked with and the nature of his job.

He sighed deeply.

“Okay,” he agreed. “But please, don’t—”

“No. I insist, Tecchou.”

His expression told him that there was no point in arguing, so Tecchou shut up and simply let it happen.

Andrei cooked for them. He made a soup that reminded Tecchou of what his mom had made for him whenever he was sick. It seemed homey in the way it filled his stomach and made him feel warm on the inside.

After that, Andrei insisted on Tecchou sleeping in his bed instead of on the couch. He moved his blankets to the living room and the sofa, and put new blankets and pillows on the bed for him. For a moment, Tecchou was afraid he would also be tucked in, and he thought Andrei was contemplating it, but then he didn’t. He simply said goodnight and left the door open a few centimetres in case the cats wanted to come in and sleep on the bed with him.

One of them joined him eventually and fell asleep on Tecchou’s arm, going back and forth between snoring softly and purring.

Tecchou’s sleep was dreamless—if he slept at all, he wasn’t sure. All night, he drifted in a state that didn’t quite feel asleep or awake. In the few instances where he was hit with full, awake awareness, he clenched his jaw when he thought about the last few times he’d seen such nights. They were usually the ones closer to the surgeries.

Tecchou couldn’t quite shake that thought. It was only when he (more or less painfully) turned to his left side and started petting the now two cats next to him, that he was able to fall back out of awareness, this time distracted.

In the morning, his next gaining of awareness was accompanied by the smell of fresh toast. He had to stop himself from telling Andrei this wasn’t necessary and left him to do his thing. They ate breakfast in comfortable silence while a cat tried to snatch Tecchou’s ham off his plate. Instead of shooing it away, Tecchou grabbed the cat and placed it in his lap where it almost tore his pants to shreds.

Andrei laughed about it as Tecchou desperately tried to detangle the cat’s claws from his clothes.

When they were done with breakfast, Tecchou showered. He tried not to look at his own body too much, since he had trouble recognising it. It was a lot more bruised and wounded now, which wasn’t unusual for him, but his brain somehow couldn’t deal with the burns on his arms. They felt strange and foreign, as though his mind was rejecting them as a part of him. They needed to be fixed, and he couldn’t let them happen again. A rational yet strange thought, born from something which Tecchou didn’t understand.

Another thing that seemed to confuse him was the sudden look into a calm lifestyle. He was no stranger to eating breakfast with people he cared about, but there was something about doing so in an apartment rather than a military facility that threw him off. Tecchou wondered if that was something he would ever be able to get used to. And he had to admit that he hoped he could.

It was strange… He had never allowed himself to imagine this kind of life for himself, as it felt selfish to abandon his duties like that. Jouno had called him selfish. And he was right, Tecchou thought. But maybe it wasn’t so black and white. Maybe being a bit selfish wasn’t so bad after all. This was something he should think about when this all ended. If this were to end with them both alive. Both? Tecchou shook his head. Enough.

He stepped out of the shower and dried his hair, then got dressed.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Andrei was waving money at him. Tecchou recognised it as the bundle he had hidden in a kitchen cabinet in hopes Andrei would find it after Tecchou had already left, but his plan had been ruined.

“I don’t want your money,” Andrei told him as he forcefully stuffed it into Tecchou’s pocket.

The soldier sighed and let him do it, but not without a glare and made Andrei scoff playfully. His light-heartedness in this situation never failed to surprise Tecchou.

Then, they said their goodbyes. Told each other to take care. Andrei gave Tecchou his phone number but Tecchou didn’t have one to give back. He did promise to call him once he got a long-term phone again, which he was determined to do at his next destination.

They hugged. It was warm, and Tecchou didn’t want it to end. When it did end, not all warmth immediately fell from his shoulders. He still felt it when he left the apartment, the building, and eventually the country.

He had a week left until the next scheduled surgery.

Chapter Text

[Nine years ago. 13:05. Wednesday.]

Recognising people only by the sounds their bodies made was like listening to an instrumental song. The heartbeat and how it resonated through the chest, the pulse, breathing, and movement patterns—they all came together as something totally unique. At first, it had been hard to put a name on those songs without hearing their vocals, but Jouno had learned to perfect it over the years.

However, unlike a song, a body’s sounds changed. Children grew up, and even adults continued to change so much that it made them unrecognisable. Their body mass was altered and their movements and mannerisms didn’t sound the exact same anymore. Life happened. If Jouno didn’t encounter someone for a while, they would change at their own pace without him knowing. And then he couldn’t put a title to the song anymore.

So, he almost didn’t recognise Tecchou until he opened his mouth.

“Jouno,” he greeted.

His steps sounded different. Heavier, and yet quieter. Jouno guessed that he had gained muscle mass and had worked on walking quietly and more efficiently. His breathing was calm and so were his heart and pulse. That should have been Jouno’s first sign that someone who worked out a lot and trained hard was approaching.

The lungs and body that his voice resonated through were big and the pitch was deeper than last time but still recognisable.

“You took your sweet time, Tecchou!” Jouno tapped his finger on his watch. He felt for the time again and discovered that Tecchou was, in fact, about five minutes late while Jouno had been waiting here for about sixteen.

“Sorry, I got caught up in something.” He sounded genuine. Good. But Tecchou had never been one to lie much in the first place. Not to Jouno, at least.

“Whatever, I don’t care. Let’s go.” Jouno started walking and Tecchou quickly caught up, strolling beside him at a comfortable pace.

It was the first day of spring that didn’t have horrible weather, so quite a few people passed them, chatting happily with the rediscovered and fresh feelings brought by the season. Jouno could hear bees and other insects fly by them, and he had to force Tecchou to keep walking more than once when he got lost in thought staring after them.

It wasn’t that warm yet, though. Jouno had to close his jacket as soon as tall buildings came in between them and the sun, whereas Tecchou seemed completely unbothered by the lack of direct light on his skin.

“Where are we going?” Tecchou asked after a while and Jouno raised an eyebrow.
“I have no clue. You were the one who asked to meet up, after all!”

“Hm.” Tecchou thought for a second. “Would you like to go to the park? I believe they have ice cream there.”

Jouno shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Alright, let’s go then.” Tecchou took the lead. As far as Jouno knew, the park wasn’t too far from where they had met up, so he wouldn’t have to complain about the amount of walking Tecchou was making him do. That guy had always loved walking and wandering around, whereas Jouno preferred a strict destination. The less he had to use his legs in aimless strolls, the better.

They crossed a few busy streets before reaching one that was quieter. After walking a couple of metres, Jouno began to smell it: freshly blooming flowers and trees that had just begun waking anew. It could almost put him in a better mood.

One last street, then they left the city behind. Tecchou sighed deeply when they entered the park. “This is nice.”

Jouno could hear a positive tone in his voice but not quite a smile. He chose not to comment on it and just continued following Tecchou.

The asphalt beneath their feet turned into gravel, which was louder to walk on. Tecchou knew this, so he directed them over to walk on the grass. It was still a bit wet from the rain of the past weeks, except for spots where the sun met the soil.

“I’m glad the weather is good,” Tecchou noted. “I was afraid it might rain, but—”

“Did you not check the weather forecast when planning this, you idiot?” It was a small thing to pick out, although Jouno didn’t care.

Tecchou shook his head. “No. Contacting you was rather spontaneous.”
“Ah.” Jouno ended the conversation there but the soldier didn’t seem bothered by it.

There were fewer people in the park than he’d anticipated, which he was glad about. Not too many children running around playing tag, or other teenagers causing trouble that Jouno would describe as plain stupid. A few elderly couples passed them, but that was about it.

He could almost enjoy himself like this.

Of course, Tecchou had to interrupt this with his annoying voice.

“What have you been up to?”

He asked like he cared. Jouno felt close to laughing. However, he refrained from it—he didn’t want to start a fight just yet, even though the itch was there. Maybe being out in nature really did have a calming effect.

“I tried going back to school, but I lacked the money so it didn’t work out,” he answered truthfully. This followed the plan he’d once told Tecchou when asking him to join him at school. He was sure that Tecchou could barely read. While probably well-versed in katakana for the names of weapons, and more military-specific vocabulary as well as kanji, he doubted that his former friend would be able to decipher a novel for school kids.

Jouno was sure that this hadn’t changed. The military didn’t exactly care for proper school education since it ensured that people like Tecchou couldn’t simply leave to choose a different career.

Tecchou would lose his income and his home with barely any chances of landing a different job.

“I see…” His voice was deeper than it usually was and Jouno hated his inability to fully decipher him. “Then what do you do now?”

“Are you interrogating me?!” Jouno snapped but it was like talking to a brick wall. A dense one, at that.

“No,” came the simple answer and all of Jouno’s anger was simply brushed off.

“Let’s go over there.” Tecchou lightly put a hand on Jouno’s shoulder to direct him somewhere to their left. For a moment, Jouno was startled. Not by the sudden touch, but by how much Tecchou had grown. They had always been about the same height but now, Tecchou seemed to be a good few centimetres taller than Jouno. Ridiculous.

The hand on his shoulder disappeared as quickly as it had appeared in the first place, leaving Jouno to wonder in what other ways Tecchou might have changed since their last encounter—how long his hair was and if it was still as messy, or if he had more scars now. If his hands had become rougher and more like ones that carried weapons every day rather than a young teen’s skin that broke after just a few hours of fighting.

Tecchou surely wasn’t the child Jouno knew. He hadn’t been like that for a long time, and Jouno was unsure why he’d half-expected him to revert back to his old self after the war. Maybe because he’d wanted himself to simply go back, but he couldn’t. Jouno was free now. Physically, at least. But mentally he found himself bound to the past.

The question if Jouno wanted their relationship to return to what it was remained open for now. The last childish part of his brain held onto it, but the more mature and rational side knew that it couldn’t be. Not when Jouno felt so much resentment, and not when Tecchou was the cause of that.

The soldier stopped them after another minute of walking on grass.

“Here.” They were near a tree, judging by the rustling of leaves, but Jouno could still feel the sun on his skin. “We can lie down on the grass if you like.”

Jouno made a face. “I don’t like just lying down on the—what are you…?”

He heard friction of different layers of clothes. “You can lie on my jacket if you like.” Tecchou unzipped it, then put it down on the grass. He patted his hand on it twice to give Jouno the location again.

“Oh… Thanks…” Jouno lay down. The jacket was warm against his back and head, and he thought it carried the smell of its owner. “Won’t you be cold? I don’t want you to sit next to me shivering, that’s annoying and distracting as hell.”

“No, I’m good,” Tecchou replied with a shrug. He lay down next to Jouno but with a good few centimetres between them. Then they both fell silent.

Tecchou was breathing slowly, but he wasn’t sleeping. He’d always had a habit of being able to sleep everywhere. As a child, at least. Jouno believed that had changed when everything else had changed for them as well.

But this—it almost felt like a day they could’ve had back then. Jouno was sure they’d had one like this. Just the two of them, the spring sun, and ice cream stolen from the freezer Tecchou’s mother usually protected like a guard dog, lying in the grass after running away from her. She had never seriously tried to catch them, she hadn’t been like Jouno’s father. She had been kind, like spring. Even though it rained sometimes, the sun would eventually win and bring warmth again.

Jouno wondered if Tecchou was also thinking about this. But his thoughts had always been something Jouno had trouble following. If he was being honest, as a child, he’d always imagined Tecchou’s brain to be filled with bees. It was ridiculous now, but even his mom had agreed with him. She’d said that if Tecchou’s thoughts were bees, then Jouno’s were like thunder in the distance. And she’d make sure to help him rid himself of the noise and clear the sky.

Jouno swallowed.

Their hometown was far. Once across half the country, but the memories always seemed close, like the jacket on Jouno’s shoulders. Memories only they shared with each other, and yet Tecchou suddenly felt so distant. Jouno pressed his lips together, wondering what he was doing here.

“Hm.” Tecchou broke the silence. “Now I’m a bit cold…” Jouno heard him move, then he lay down right next to him. Their shoulders touched but neither of them pulled away. He settled down, seemingly more comfortable now.

Maybe Tecchou wasn’t distant. He was right there, after all. But Jouno couldn’t let him in anymore. He couldn’t answer ‘what have you been up to?’ with the truth: the past war and the poverty it had brought him had pushed him into crime. Jouno was no stranger to death and violence anymore, like many of the kids who’d suffered the same fate as him. Just that most of them hadn’t been trained by soldiers, so they turned to Jouno for protection.

Jouno didn’t know how Tecchou’s bee-filled brain would react to that. He couldn’t share things with him anymore, not since he’d been rejected with his confession that he enjoyed hurting others and the resulting coldness from Tecchou.

No, there definitely was distance.

Jouno bit the inside of his cheek. A part of him wanted to let it be. ‘Be quiet, enjoy the moment,’ that part told him. But the heat rising to his face told him something different.

“I don’t like that you’re acting like nothing has changed,” Jouno blurted out before he could stop himself. He’d always been the confrontational type, so it shouldn’t surprise him. It surely didn’t surprise Tecchou. He didn’t sigh, didn’t react defensively or confused. He was patient and waited for Jouno to finish. Jouno hated him. “We’ve barely met since the war and the last time was when?! One and a half years ago? And you act so—normal!”

Tecchou sat up once more, and so did Jouno. His shoulder was cold again.

“How would you like me to act?”

Jouno knew he was cocking his head to the side, waiting for an answer. But that only pissed him off more.
“Things don’t matter to you until you start to feel bad about something. You wouldn’t contact me unless something important was going on! So tell me! What is it?” He sounded less accusatory than he wanted to, he was out of practice after not talking to Tecchou for so long.

This time, the answer didn’t come immediately. Tecchou clearly thought about his words and how to break it to Jouno—whatever ‘it’ was. He bit his lip and chewed on it. Looked around and turned his head, seemingly searching for the words to magically appear in front of him. All while Jouno was impatiently tapping away on his arm.

“I—” Tecchou sighed. “I’m being stationed abroad, Jouno.”

Jouno froze. Couldn’t get a word out when he opened his mouth. So, Tecchou continued.

“End-goal is Germany. I have to visit other international military bases and partners in different countries before staying there.” He sounded so casual about this.

“You know I hate—” Jouno started but Tecchou cut him off.

“I know, but this is about justice, Jouno. It’s…” his voice trailed off and he paused before starting anew. “It’s necessary for me to finish this. I need to prevent wars like the one that destroyed our home. I’m protecting children like us. When I’m back, I’ll try to enter a special military programme. One that will help millions, if not the entire nation.”

‘Special military programme’. Jouno imagined Tecchou tied to a table, blood dripping down as they forcefully injected drugs into his system that would rip his body apart. Jouno knew about them—the bodies that were dumped in the slums of Yokohama, that got members of his past and present gangs and organisations arrested even though they hadn’t committed those atrocities. They didn’t even have the means to. It was all a cover-up for whatever that government of theirs was doing to people like Tecchou. Traumatised and brainwashed children who thought they would be able to protect others.

But all it did was kill them.

“You’re upset,” Tecchou observed.
“No shit!” Jouno yelled back.

He knew Tecchou. He knew him well. In this situation, he could guess the way he was thinking and what he was doing. Why he was doing it. But the only thing he couldn’t tell was if those actions came from a place of selflessness, in which he wanted to give his body and mind for ‘justice’ when saving people and punishing those he thought (or was made to believe) deserved it; or if it was entirely selfish. An unconscious selfishness born from insecurity and fear. A need to prove himself.

Jouno couldn’t tell. He wanted to think that it didn’t matter because the outcome would be the same, but Jouno was afraid he had to admit that he cared. Still cared. After everything, even though Tecchou failed to care the same way through the damn brainwashing the military put him through.

“You just—I thought you came here to—!” Jouno grabbed two hands full of his own hair in frustration. The thoughts were there. He wanted to say them aloud to Tecchou’s face. Tell him about the hurt and pain, but he couldn’t. He dropped his hands again.

“Whatever, do what you want.”

There was a lump in his throat. Jouno swallowed it as he let himself fall back again. Defeated, completely deflated. Drained of all energy.

Tecchou sat there and stared at Jouno. His eyes burned on his skin, he could feel it clearly.

“Okay,” he said simply. Outwardly, he tried to appear calm, but his heart was beating too quickly. His face was hot, and his hands trembled slightly. Jouno wanted to close his ears to all of that, but he couldn’t, so he just rolled over to lie on his side, facing away from Tecchou.

Tecchou sat there for a moment longer. Staring. Jouno wondered if he’d just leave if he kept ignoring him, but he should’ve known that this wasn’t like him at all.

Jouno heard him shift around, then he lay down next to him again. A moment later, an arm slipped around Jouno’s body. He tensed when Tecchou came closer and pressed his chest against Jouno’s back.

Tecchou didn’t say anything, was completely silent. His heart was nervous, and only that gave him away. But when Jouno didn’t complain, didn’t push him away, and didn’t yell, the soldier relaxed against him.

Once again, Jouno wondered if this was a selfless action or a selfish one. Maybe Tecchou thought he was comforting Jouno like when they were kids. Maybe he was comforting himself.

Or none of this mattered. Because the outcome was the same: Tecchou’s heartbeat against his back, his being warm, and the arm that held him gently. Jouno tried to remember the last time Tecchou had done this. Jouno had been ten—so—six years ago? But he didn’t really want to think about that. Not about what had caused it, not about all the other times he would’ve needed this after.

Tecchou’s priorities had clearly shifted away from him completely and Jouno was sure he was only here to clear the fraction of a bad feeling he might have about it. There was no reconnecting, there was no apologising for his lack of support, and no changing his mind to live a normal life with Jouno.

And yet, Tecchou put his arm around Jouno like nothing had happened. And Jouno let him with his heart pounding in his chest.

Why now? Tecchou was leaving. Again. Jouno opened his mouth to say something. Something hurtful, as he wanted to get back at him. He wanted to tell him to go die in a dirty hole in the depths of Germany, but he couldn’t. Jouno wanted to cause him pain. But he doubted there was anything he could throw at Tecchou that would hurt as Jouno had in the past.

Jouno hated Tecchou. Because he changed things about him, and that change brought uncertainty and instability.

He came to the conclusion that it was good that Tecchou was leaving, as it would set Jouno free once and for all. If he never returned, then Jouno would be safe.

“Tecchou?” He asked.

Tecchou lifted his head a centimetre. “Yes?”

“Do me a favour and die.”

~~~

[Present day. 21:15. Days become blurry and you stop counting them.]

Jouno leaned his head back against the wall. It hurt, had been hurting for days now. The words ‘I’, ‘am’, ‘so’, ‘glad’, ‘found’, ‘you’, and his own name, ‘Jouno’, didn’t sound real to him anymore, especially in that one specific order that his mind kept replaying over and over again. Unlike situations where someone repeated a word or a phrase again and again, the combined sentence of ‘I’m so glad I found you, Jouno’ never lost its meaning.

Jouno didn’t want it to mean anything. Not to him, not ever. But it had become more and more obvious to him that it did. He hated it.

He rubbed his hands across his face with a long sigh. After two sleepless nights, he could feel the exhaustion setting in. He’d tried to sleep, he’d wanted to sleep, but it had been virtually impossible. Every single time he’d tried to rest, didn’t move and forced his thoughts to be silent, he would hear Tecchou’s voice again. Every single time without fail.

He’d been able to satisfy that voice by killing. He’d spilled blood and Tecchou had stopped talking to him in his head as though he was disappointed. But nothing helped anymore.

Much to his dismay, it had become more than just that one sentence. A lot of the things Tecchou had said, which Jouno had been trying to block out, were now on his mind constantly. It was making resting hell and sleeping impossible.

So, Jouno constantly tried to keep himself busy and productive. He’d tracked down their next target. The man was a former soldier, but he hadn’t fought Jouno like one. Resistance had been minimal, so Jouno quickly lost interest in him. Gogol was still trying to have his fun, though.

“Do you think we should pull his teeth out?” his partner asked.

“I don’t care, do what you want.” Jouno waved his hand dismissively. Bringing himself to care right now was hard but he hoped that whatever Gogol was about to do would put him in a better mood.

“Hmmmmm…” Gogol walked around the chair they had tied the retired soldier to. “Acid bath!”

“Do you see any acid lying around here?” Jouno groaned and Gogol had to admit that there was, in fact, no acid around.
“Waterboarding?”

“Already did that last month.”

“Chinese water torture!”

“Boring!”

“Graaahhhh!” Gogol threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Okay fine, classic dismembering and disembowelling, just how you like it.”

Jouno didn’t answer to that, but Gogol was right. After getting into his victims’ heads to play games with them, cutting off limbs was usually his way to go when he tortured someone with his own two hands. Something else he’d quite enjoyed in the past was disembowelling someone while they were still conscious, kept awake by other, unnatural means. Spreading the contents of their own body out in front of them, or even making them watch in mirrors cleverly placed by Gogol to get the reflections just right from all angles was delightful—it could do wonders to damage someone’s psyche.

Jouno was unsure if they had the time for that right now. It had been three days since they left Russia, so Tecchou might already be after them again. It was safe to assume that he healed fast and wouldn’t let Jouno go so easily. Tecchou was a bug he would crush underneath his shoe. A loyal dog to the military that chased after Jouno under the pretence of ‘justice’. Jouno would shoot that dog with a hunter’s rifle and precision.

But first, he wanted to make sure that every part of Tecchou’s dead mind was him. He wanted to poison Tecchou’s thoughts like he was poisoning Jouno’s. It was only fair.

It was Jouno’s idea of justice.

“Wait, before you guys can do anything,” the man finally spoke up in a deep, raspy voice. He’d been conscious the entire time, although oddly calm while listening to their conversations about what could possibly be done to him. He wasn’t smug or cool about it but instead sounded casual if not a bit tired—like a man who’d accepted his fate, an inmate on the electric chair asking for his final meal. “Can I get a coffee?”

“No!” yelled Jouno.
“Yes!” yelled Gogol. “I mean—no!”

Jouno groaned again. “Just get this over with,” he ordered and Gogol got to it while mumbling some things to himself.

Summoning a knife out of his overcoat, Gogol got to work.

Jouno heard noises of bones snapping in half and flesh being cut. But, above all, agonising screams filled the air. Despite his seemingly controlled demeanour, the man screamed in pain. It was only natural for him to do so—but when a person like him was driven over the edge, the noises of suffering felt like a high achievement.

Usually, Jouno would find this entertaining. Breaking someone and reducing them to nothing but pain was something he’d always enjoyed. Those voices were the sweetest. But not this time. They were only enough to lessen the bitter and rotten taste that encountering Tecchou had left him with.

Jouno was exhausted mentally and physically, even though he didn’t want to admit to that. However, it explained his current state well, so he held onto that.

Just as Gogol was about to cut off another finger, his phone rang.

“Busy,” Gogol half-sang and used his overcoat to drop the phone into Jouno’s lap.
“But I took the call last time!” Jouno protested. His partner, however, ignored him.

With a groan, he tapped the middle of the screen and let the phone tell him who was calling. He froze.

“It’s Dostoy—”
“Not busy anymore!”

From across the room, Gogol’s hand used the overcoat and snatched the device from Jouno’s hands.

“I’ll be right back!” He yelled before happily accepting the call and walking out. Behind the closed door, Jouno could still hear a, “Hiiii Dostoy!” before he chose not to listen anymore.

“So, are you going to continue, or…?” their victim asked. He was breathing heavily and his voice sounded strained from screaming. Still, he seemed tired. Not physically but mentally, almost like he was trying to get Jouno to end it.

The criminal simply shrugged. “I don’t think so. Not for now, anyway.”

“Then you’re the boring one?”

Jouno didn’t reply to the provocation. He could tell that it was a change in strategy and only came from a place of trying to piss him off. It showed just how much this guy wanted to die. It rarely happened that he saw someone so genuinely ready to have their life end, especially by the hands of someone like Jouno. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been able to enjoy those screams as much. The control was missing. He experienced pain but did not fear anything.

Was that also why he hadn’t been able to enjoy Tecchou’s suffering? Because he was so ready to throw his life away? Jouno could only wonder.

“Y’know,” the man started again. Jouno wanted him to shut up. “Tecchou mentioned you. Once or twice.”

Jouno’s head whipped around. He felt like he had been thrown into ice water and he was sure his heart stopped. “How do you—”

“—know that you’re here because of him? Like I’d tell you!”

Had Tecchou been faster than them this time? That couldn’t be. Not with those injuries, and he wouldn’t allow someone he thought to be ‘good’ to be tortured like that. Maybe Kamui had betrayed Gogol and him, and decided to warn this man? Maybe that’s what Dostoyevsky’s phone call was all about. But Jouno heavily doubted that.

All that was left was—his panic lessened and he smiled. That would make for great blackmail material later on. Or worse.

“Oh, you’re the smart one instead of the fun one!” came the comment about his expression.

“I’ve been trying to kill Tecchou,” Jouno confirmed. “What did he say about me?” He didn’t expect to get a proper response, but the guy hadn’t lied to him when he said that Tecchou’d talked about him.

“Nothing special. Never really wanted to talk about you out of…”
“What?” Jouno asked when he didn’t continue.

“Guilt.” His voice was mostly emotionless. There were traces of them in his demeanour and the rest of his body, but Jouno had the feeling most of his emotions were locked in a vault, never to be opened.

And that fact in combination with the word sent a shiver down Jouno’s spine.

“In front of the new recruits, he talked about the Great War maybe two times. He only really brought you up once in personal conversations, he didn’t talk about his childhood besides that.” The man paused to think for a moment. “I remember that because he fascinated me. He was so young and had seen more than most of us, but he seemed so unbothered. Even though I was older, I tried to be more like him. Didn’t turn out so well, but I realised that very late. I sometimes think about where his path might have brought him. I guess I have the answer now.”

Jouno pressed his lips into a fine line. He wondered what kind of anecdotes he could have possibly told to new recruits. There was nothing about their time during the Great War that would be inspiring to anyone. Unless Tecchou talked about the Colonel, then maybe his deluded mind could come up with something positively inspiring and full of propaganda that would drag young people deeper and deeper into this mess and lead to lifelong pain or, if they were lucky, their early demise.

Jouno would never understand how the Colonel could be considered a good figure in this. In his humble opinion, that man had been rotten to the core. But Tecchou had clung to him like a magnet. Thinking back now, Jouno began to understand why. They’d been nothing more than children. But for Jouno, growing up had meant realising what had been wrong with—everything.

He’d hoped that Tecchou would see that as well, especially after the war had stopped, but he obviously never had. He was still a dog to the military.

As for their childhood before, and the time after the war… Jouno failed to recognise what there would be to say about that. He liked to think that there was nothing worth mentioning or remembering.

“Why are you telling me this?” he finally demanded.

He heard a spike in the man’s heartbeat, then a laugh started rumbling through his chest. It echoed off the walls coldly and hit Jouno like a blizzard.

His voice was loud when he opened his mouth the next time. Hoarse and hard, sandpaper on Jouno’s skin.

“Because I want you to feel the guilt!” he yelled. “What is it that you’re trying to achieve?! Attention? Mend a relationship? The war left you broken and you’re pushing away the only person capable of understanding you, because that’s what Tecchou said about the two of you. And when you finally realise that this is what you need, he will look at you with nothing but disgust!”

Jouno opened his mouth to argue but no sound would come out.

“You want him dead, but then why don’t you kill him?! Why do you keep on letting him come back to you? Why do you seek that company?”

“I want him to break!” Jouno finally managed. He wanted to yell these words but his body didn’t let him. “I need him to break apart and hurt like I did! I need him to repent for his mistakes!”

“But hasn’t he already?” the man retorted. “You keep contradicting yourself! You’re not the kinda guy who sees death as an act of ‘repenting’, but you talk about killing him. Your actions and your words don’t match one bit! You’ve been hurting him, sure, but with what end goal? To kill him? Then why haven’t you? You seek him out. Why?”

“Because I—” The rest of the words got caught in Jouno’s throat. They tasted like blood straight from a withering heart.

He touched his cheek lightly, right where Tecchou had reached out for him. He’d claimed that he and Jouno were the only ones capable of understanding each other. But why would Tecchou say something like that, when he hadn’t even tried back then? When he’d left him all by himself after the war? Where had that understanding been?

Jouno didn’t want to believe that Tecchou’s guilt was real. It couldn’t be, as it didn’t match his actions in the slightest. Tecchou was a selfish man who was trying to rob Jouno of his normalcy and stability. He wanted to rob him of what he knew and felt secure in, like the war had all those years ago.

Tecchou was a threat.

However, there was truth to what the man said: his efforts to kill Tecchou had been lacklustre. There was no rational reason for Jouno’s behaviour. But the taste in his mouth gave it away.

Jouno let his head sink back against the wall.

This was bad.

This was bad.

His hands grabbed his hair as he tried to keep himself grounded. The dull pain in his scalp helped minimally while his quick and shallow breaths moved almost his entire upper body with their force. Jouno felt dizzy and couldn’t grasp a single one of his thoughts to hold onto. The walls were closing in on him and he needed to get out.

“This is the sight I like to see!” the man’s voice mocked him across the room. Jouno wanted to do nothing more than to shut him up, but he needed to wait for Gogol to return. “Watching your regret—”

“I don’t regret anything!” yelled Jouno, finally finding the energy to. His breathing grew increasingly heavy and uncontrolled. He tried to concentrate to stop it, but it didn’t help. He was afraid that nothing would. “Now keep quiet before I sew your mouth shut.”

It wasn’t Jouno’s preferred method. Although, making someone scream to the point where the flesh of their lips tore apart around thinly cutting thread sounded like something he would have tried.

“Alright, alright…” He was clearly not being taken seriously but Jouno just tried to ignore that. Usually, it was something he hated. It made him feel like a child again, whose crying would be dismissed by adults. He had hated these people, every single one of them.

Luckily, Gogol barged in through the door just a few seconds later. The noise of the door hitting the wall and being repelled from it made Jouno flinch.

“I’m baaackkk,” he announced happily. Jouno didn’t match his enthusiasm.

“What did Dostoyevsky say?” he asked immediately, wiping away any sign of distress from his voice and demeanour in hopes his partner wouldn’t notice anything.

“Oh, he wants us at the factory as fast as possible.” Gogol pouted. “So we’ll sadly have to cut this short.”
“I understand. Anything else?”
“Hmmm…” The Clown thought for a while. Then, the atmosphere shifted when he spoke again. “He mentioned Kamui’s disappointment.”

Jouno clenched his jaw. “Yeah… I figured as much.”

“If you don’t kill him, then I—” But Jouno shut him down harshly.

“You will not lay a finger on Tecchou.”

“What, are you afraid I might actually kill him?” His voice carried nothing of the usual teasing tone. He was cold and dead serious.

“No, I have a plan for him.” It was the truth. He knew just how to kill Tecchou and he would execute it perfectly, with his own two hands.
“If it crosses Dostoyevsky’s plan, you’ll be the one to find your end,” Gogol warned immediately. “Both you and your toy. Got it?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gogol left the room again. Jouno remained on the floor for a few more seconds before finally getting up and walking over to the man they held captive in his own home.

“Is it time now?” The man asked but Jouno didn’t answer. He didn’t feel like talking now, or maybe even ever again. All words were stuck in his throat, as only nonsense would come out. It all contradicted each other and the things he did. So he had to stay silent.

He took a butterfly knife out of his pocket and unceremoniously flipped it open.

“Hey, cat got your t—” A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air and he could barely hear the fingers dropping to the floor. Jouno felt nothing.

Sighing, took a few steps away and to the wall. Knocking on it, he noticed a picture frame move minimally with the contact. He took it down and carelessly dropped it to the floor before dragging his hand across the wall to get an idea of how big of an area he was working with, and how much space he had available. His hand wandered up and down as he walked by the entire span of the wall, then back again.

Jouno ended up at the place where he’d started and nodded shortly, before strolling over to the former soldier again.

“Is this my time to say goodbye?”

Jouno nodded coldly.

“Then I hope you rot in hell.”

The knife sliced open his throat and Jouno listened to the gurgling and dripping noises while letting the blood flow over and cover his fingers and palm.

He walked over to the wall again and put down his bloody hand on the wallpaper.

Yes, he was sure that he would rot in hell. And he would drag Tecchou down with him.

Chapter Text

Tecchou hadn’t been to Warsaw before. Of course he’d been to Poland, but that had been at a remote military base in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pretty much nothing at all. He’d never visited any towns, not even any airports close to them. Interactions with locals who weren’t soldiers had been out of question as well.

So, all he saw here was new to him. Warsaw gave him a mixed first impression. Every city had its bad areas, and bigger, metropolitan ones were prone to attracting bad people and crime, creating neighbourhoods to be avoided.

However, at its core, it was nice. Under different circumstances, Tecchou would’ve marvelled at the mix of modern architecture, old soviet buildings, and the lasting, colourful charm of the old town. He understood why people could either hate or like it. Back then, he’d known a few soldiers who called this city their home, and whenever they talked about it, their words sounded like love letters.

Tecchou wondered if there had ever been something that he had made sound that way. His hometown, maybe. And then he asked himself if he should have visited over the years. Now that he was running out of time, he thought about things like this. It felt pitiful, so he tried to push it down. Concentrated on where he was at this moment, and not where he had been in the past.

Going home had never really crossed his mind before. He didn’t even know if his town had been rebuilt after the war ended, or if it remained the wasteland and ghostly remnants of a once lively city that he’d left behind. There had been nobody to go back to—no family, no friends, nobody he knew. Maybe he’d been a bit scared to think about his home again, but now that he was so far away from it and might never see it again, he longed for it.

Sighing, he added that to the list of fantasies: visiting his hometown with Jouno. Their hometown.

Tecchou took a taxi down the busy streets of the city, then out of the centre. The buildings in the neighbourhood where he got out of the car looked modern, constructed in a square around a small park and a playground.

Tecchou paid the guy who drove him in cash, needing a couple of seconds to get used to the currency change once again. He thanked him, then started walking.

Building 10c was the house he had to go to. He walked by 10a and 10b, and watched some children run past him playing tag while their mothers sat on a bench and chatted happily.

One of them locked eyes with him for a moment and made a concerned face, which reminded Tecchou that he was, in fact, running around suspiciously in a dirty and ripped coat, armed with a weapon (although that was hidden under his clothes), and had his hood deeply pulled into his wounded face. Tecchou quickly continued walking and passed the families.

He reached building 10c and let his finger wander over the list of names on the doorbells. Finding what he was looking for, he stopped and pressed the button labelled ‘Mariusz Kamiński’.

Nothing. Tecchou waited for a few seconds, then a minute. Still nothing. He pressed the doorbell again. Nothing.

He found himself growing restless and inspected the door. It wouldn’t be too heavy for him to break, but with so many people around and in broad daylight, he didn’t want to risk getting in trouble. So, he took a few steps back from the entrance and waited for someone else to open the door when they left or entered.

Luckily, that didn’t take too long. When he saw an older couple approaching the building, he pretended to be busy looking at the doorbells and pressed the one he needed again. He nodded at them as a greeting and then used the opportunity to get inside once they’d passed him.

While they gave him a weirded-out and concerned look, Tecchou told himself that it was mostly due to the poorly stitched wound and the scab across his face. Still, he didn’t want to be closer to them any more than necessary, regardless of what had prompted that reaction.

The couple used the elevator, so Tecchou took the stairs. Despite his legs still aching and him getting out of breath almost immediately, he made it up three floors without a break. He was only panting a little after the final flight of stairs and he took a moment to calm his lungs and fast-beating heart, before entering the hallway that led to the individual apartments.

Inspecting the name tags on all of them, Tecchou pretended to casually stroll by, in case anyone came out of their door and saw him. On the inside, however, a bad feeling started to grow in his stomach.

Sure, Mariusz could be at work and thus wasn’t home to open his door. Tecchou hoped he was at work but his mind played every bad scenario he could possibly think of at this moment.

He reached the right apartment and rang the bell once more. From behind the wooden door, he could hear its sound. Tecchou glanced up and down the hall before pressing his ear to the door, but his hearing picked up nothing else.

Sighing, he stepped back and inspected the entrance. It was sturdy, dark wood. Quite thick when he knocked on it. No signs of damage or forceful entry, although that meant nothing when it came to Gogol and Jouno.

Tecchou reached over his head and let his hands wander over the top of the door frame. He made a face and wiped his palms on his pants when all he found was dust. Next, he crouched down and lifted the doormat. Bingo.

The key was clean, as though it had only recently been placed there. Tecchou shrugged off any suspicions, as he didn’t have time for those, and picked it up with the sleeve of his coat before using it to unlock the door. After putting the key back and shoving the doormat into place with his foot, Tecchou pushed it open.

A wave of warmer air came towards him from the inside of the apartment when he stepped in and closed the door. He looked around. What immediately stood out to him was how orderly and clean everything was. Jackets neatly hung next to the entrance, always with one hanger free between them. Shoes were lined up and not a single one crossed the line of the floorboard they stood on. Not a speck of dust could be seen.

Tecchou contemplated taking his shoes off but he didn’t want to leave more traces of himself than necessary, and in case he had to run, it would also be quite inconvenient. It felt bad to intrude on someone’s home like this and disrespect their rules. However, Tecchou thought it would be for the better.

He walked through the short hallway and peeked into the kitchen. Once again, everything was clean. He opened a few cabinets out of curiosity and noticed the lack of—most things. The fridge was nearly empty except for bare necessities: one milk carton, one opened package of butter, and some cheese. The drawers were in the same state as well, with only two forks, two knives, and two spoons. Barely any plates and bowls.

Tecchou assumed that Mariusz had lived alone and didn’t welcome guests often. Living removed from most social interactions wasn’t something he viewed as inherently bad, but sometimes it could be telling about a person’s mental state. Especially that of a former soldier. And, most of all, it lowered the chances of him being found or heard if someone were to try and kill him.

Tecchou looked around the room. The walls were empty and white, although he could see a light yellow tint close to where the cooking was usually done. The furniture was a wooden brown, also clean. It was a rather uninteresting kitchen, so Tecchou moved on.

Going through the next door, he found himself in the bedroom. It, too, was strangely empty. Nothing felt personal like there had been no attempts to make this a home in the first place. Naked walls usually meant that someone would move out (since moving in was exciting and things were unpacked and decorated fast) but there were no signs of either of these options.

The blanket and pillows were dark grey and neatly placed on the bed, the wardrobe didn’t hold many clothes. No decorations or pictures on the walls whatsoever.

Somehow, this reminded him of a doctor’s office: a façade to make a patient feel more comfortable by giving the idea that someone could live there. The biggest difference being that doctor’s offices often had at least one picture on the wall, and maybe a few trinkets on the desk. Maybe porcelain frogs in a rich green, matching the empty landscapes on the walls.

Tecchou frowned. He could vaguely remember Mariusz, but knowing him had been years and years ago if he’d known him at all. What kind of person he’d become, or had been in the first place, was something that Tecchou’d hoped to learn by meeting him again. Walking through his apartment didn’t tell him much.

He turned his back to the room.

From the front door, the hallway was a straight line with two doors on the right leading to the kitchen and the bedroom. After that, it took a turn in an L-shape, where Tecchou suspected the bathroom and a living area to be. He couldn’t see around that corner from where he was standing in the bedroom, so he left it and walked the metre until he could catch a glimpse of the rest of the apartment.

Another door led to the right, which Tecchou assumed to be the bathroom, as the short end of the L ended in the living room.

Tecchou walked straight but froze when he was halfway there.

All blood stopped in his veins.

As he had done in the building that had collapsed, Tecchou instinctively held his breath to become unnoticeable and listened more closely. But he didn’t hear anything.

A few seconds passed with him hearing nothing except for the blood in his ears and his heart pumping it. Then it appeared once more.

A single sound of liquid dripping.

A few seconds of silence.

Again.

It was slow and irregular, but it was there. As the sole sound outside of Tecchou’s body, it was almost as loud as an explosion to him. The sound entered his ears, making them crack. It travelled to his brain, then through his entire body where the fine hairs on his skin stood up painfully.

Tecchou clenched his fists as he allowed himself to breathe again and forced his legs to continue walking. Slowly, only taking steps in the pauses between drips.

Step, drip. Step, drip. Step, drip.

It took six cycles for him to reach the doorframe. There was nothing in the part of the room he could see—nothing of note, and almost nothing at all besides simple furniture. But Tecchou wasn’t too focused on that right now. He pressed his back to the wall outside the door and took a deep breath, then another one.

With a long step, he entered the room.

A silent scream got caught in his throat and he stumbled as he bolted forward. It was an automatic reaction drilled into his head: do not alert any enemies, no matter what. Do not even allow yourself to give your pain a voice. Because doing that would give it power. Maybe taking its voice and power would make it disappear altogether.

Tecchou reached the body tied to the chair in a fraction of a second.

He saw the wound on his neck that was slowly drying out with no new blood flowing. But what was already there made its way down his arm and still dripped from his missing knuckles.

There was no pulse. Of course there wasn’t. It was obvious, but nevertheless, Tecchou tried the other arm as if there would be any hope. He felt nothing and the skin touching his was cold and dead. His fingers became sticky with cooling blood and he felt the urge to cut his own off from the disgusting sensation alone.

When Tecchou let go of the wrist, the arm dropped limply. It swayed twice before stilling, then liquid began to drip again. It was still loud in his ears, now amplified by the shock.

He stared at the arm for a moment before letting his eyes wander to the man’s face. There was nothing etched into it. No feelings. Not sadness, not joy, not even fear. Tecchou didn’t know what he had felt before dying, and he never would.

That man was gone—he’d gone alone and without a fight.

It had been obvious from the beginning, but Tecchou was now mentally pronouncing him dead. The cut throat was something Jouno had developed as his ‘signature’ over the course of the war, so it surely had been him.

Tecchou clenched his jaw, then forced his legs to stand upright again from his crouching position. The location might still be dangerous, he couldn’t allow himself to lower his guard like that.

It felt like it was too late, though. Something red got caught in the corner of his eye.

His heart stopped as his stomach turned.

In an instant, he whipped his body around to prepare for battle, hands raised in a defensive position.

He dropped them again after a second.

Tecchou’s breaths were heavy and strong enough to move his shoulders up and down with every single one.

“What?” he whispered when he didn’t see Jouno standing there like he had anticipated. The red was too dark to be the tips of his hair anyway, but in the fleeting moment, he’d thought it matched. Tecchou’s eyes widened as he tried to comprehend what was in front of him. He couldn’t, though.

He had to take a shaking step back to get a full look at it. But even then, his eyes jumped from one place to another in a desperate attempt to make sense of this. It was like he was looking at a pseudo-script: something imitating the hiragana and kanji he usually read, looking like real writing when it wasn’t. Maybe Tecchou had lost his ability to read from the rising panic in his body.

He knew he needed to take deep breaths and concentrate to decipher what it said, but he struggled to control any last bit of his body and mind.

He clenched his hands into fists by his sides, with his fingernails digging into his palms in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He didn’t even know why he was reacting like that, since he still couldn’t read anything. The dawning feeling that it was something bad paralysed him, however.

With eyes that were burning, he kept staring at the writing.

The individual characters had been drawn by hand, it was clear from the strokes that fingers had been used. Despite that, they weren’t smudged, the hand hadn’t been shaking. The lines were precise and carefully drawn.

Barely any of the blood was running out of place and down the wall. It was clear that the ink belonged to the body behind Tecchou. There were a few drops on the floor leading back to the corpse, making that even more obvious.

He allowed himself to blink once. Slowly, his mind began to process the characters. A mix of kanji and hiragana, drawn by the careful hand that he could identify as Jouno’s but on a larger scale than his previous note.

His already shaky breathing stopped.

Tecchou put a hand over his mouth.

‘I loved you’

He stumbled back, then found himself on the floor. On his knees, like a man before his God or the Devil. He couldn’t blink until the red was etched into his vision, making sure it wouldn’t disappear ever again.

A heavy, stinging ache in his chest. His fingers tangled in his shirt as he grabbed it, but what he really needed to do was to close his hands around his heart and squeeze all blood out. Then, maybe then, the pain would end. But he couldn’t do that, so it had already infested his bones and spread into every cell of his body. Maybe he would just have to die to make it stop. Tecchou wished he was dead.

It wasn’t a thought that concerned or bothered him in any way. All he knew was that he wished for the pain to stop. And since it wouldn’t, he longed for death. Even though the writing on the wall felt like it should kill him, it didn’t. Physically, it didn’t have the power to do so. And thus it only left him with the wish that it did.

Tecchou’s mouth was open in a silent scream that would never be heard by anyone but himself. He knew it was there, leaving his lips. Full of agony. But it was silent. It raged in his lungs and drained them until it hurt to breathe in again. And then he continued to scream.

His eyes burned, then watered. There was nothing Tecchou could do to stop it. When he finally forced his eyes to shut, with the image of the writing not disappearing, he felt the first tear. His reaction was to hide his face by putting his hands over it, smudging the same blood that was on the wall all over his face.

He applied the words to his clothes over his chest and now his skin because that’s where they were meant to be. They addressed him, they belonged to him, and he carried them wherever he went. He had caused them and they were his burden to bear.

Soldiers didn’t cry. Only humans did.

And, regrettably, Tecchou was a human.

His spine curled forward until he was leaning over his legs and the floor as his body shook uncontrollably from tremors and sobs.

He wanted it to end. He wanted all of this to just end. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough after all, maybe he should’ve just let go. But now he felt like it was his fault, more than ever.

“I’m sorry, Jouno.” It was a whisper at first, barely recognisable as a sentence because he didn’t move his lips enough. The words came out slurred and shaky.

“I’m sorry, Jouno.” He repeated it over and over again until it came out less forced. But it never hurt less to say.

“I’m sorry, Jouno!” His throat hurt when he screamed. It hurt, but it wasn’t enough to make the pain in his chest disappear. He wanted it to disappear. But he deserved it. But he needed it to end.

A long, agonising scream followed. Tecchou thought it would make his throat bleed by how much it felt like he was forcing a knife through it.

He hugged his own body and dug his fingers into his sides to feel the pain, keeping him from losing himself completely. It didn’t help much. Rocking back and forth, incoherent mumblings fell from his lips. Nothing that he could decipher. He couldn’t tell if they were confessions, prayers, or something completely different.

Tears rolled down his cheeks until he couldn’t cry anymore. Until his sobs were dry and shook his exhausted body in waves.

Tecchou himself had become nothing more than a miserable and pitiful body on the floor, whispering to himself until he forgot to breathe, or didn’t want to breathe anymore. But his body forced him to, despite its fatigued state.

None of his limbs were under his control as they moved against his will. Too fast for him, his muscles tensed and relaxed in twitches. He couldn’t stop them. So, Tecchou was glued to where he was on the ground. Unable to move, unable to stop crying. And all he could hold onto was the wish for it to stop.

~~~

It could have been hours. Two, six, twelve, or more, even.

Maybe he’d become one with the wood he was lying on. He wished his pain would spread through it and even out, as it was too much for his own body to bear.

What he could barely identify as his head ached. It was pounding, alternating between sharp and dull pains. What he thought to be in the middle of his body—his stomach—ached. Like he’d swallowed a snake, he felt every single movement within his guts as they screamed at him to eat or cut them out. Lastly, his chest. He couldn’t even identify his heart anymore. Maybe it had broken his ribs on its own and escaped him, once and for all. But it couldn’t have. The pain remained, after all.

Not only Tecchou’s sense of time and self had disappeared, but also the space around him. Even though there was wood pressed against one side of his body, he couldn’t tell up from down, let alone left from right.

He was sure he could die here. If he stayed like this, he would. He had no intention of getting up, even with his stomach aching in what he assumed to be starvation. But that was okay. It didn’t matter what would kill him, as the desired outcome would always be the same.

If he just stayed here and didn’t move, he could make it.

But there was a noise. Somewhere between distant and close, he was unsure.

A clicking sound, then the part of his body that had melted into the floor vibrated.

The front door was closed again.

Although the sudden noises made him twitch ever so slightly, Tecchou didn’t move willingly. Doing so would rip his body apart, he thought, but it wouldn’t kill him. And thus it was useless.

Tecchou didn’t want to be found. It most likely meant moving. If the person about to find him called the police, then it also meant surviving, which he didn’t want. Getting the police to kill him would require attacking them but that meant moving again. It was a dilemma when all he wanted to do was for it all to end.

He decided to not move for now, even when someone walked down the hall. Holding his breath, he hoped it would somehow prolong the time until he was found.

The steps were slow and careful, but the person didn’t try to conceal that they were there. They walked down the same path Tecchou had taken: to the kitchen and the bedroom, then came closer until they entered his room.

“Kurwa…”

A man’s voice swore although he sounded more shocked than angry. A swear was way less than what Tecchou had expected from a person finding the dead body of someone whose apartment they could freely enter with a key.

Tecchou didn’t turn around to look at who was there. Maybe the man would assume him to be dead as well and let him lie on the floor instead of trying to move him, thus contaminating what was essentially a crime scene.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, however, the man seemed to collect himself.

A pair of feet without shoes on crossed the room, and a hand was on Tecchou’s shoulder a moment later. It had a firm grip on him and turned him onto his back, although without hurting him.

Tecchou forced his eyes open but he couldn’t see anything. Everything was blurry and the brightness of the room burned in his eyes and made his head throb even more, so he closed them again.

The man swore once more with a longer string of words Tecchou couldn’t understand. He then disappeared with quick steps, only to return again a minute later. Tecchou assumed he was going to call the police, but he was proven wrong.

A hand was placed on Tecchou’s forehead and he flinched when a thumb dug into his temple on one side, and an index finger into his other one. They held him in place roughly. Usually, Tecchou would be able to get out of this grip without any problems. But he felt too weak to move in any way, so he let the man take control, even though it went against what every single last rational thought in his mind told him.

Tecchou hissed when a wet cloth touched his face and rubbed over it. The man wasn’t gentle with him as he followed down the stitched-up wound he’d gotten in Russia.

The cloth tugged at some of the yarn uncomfortably and pulled dried blood off his skin, exposing fresh wounds again. It made the small amount of liquid that was wetting it sting even more. Tecchou didn’t stop him, though. He just let it happen until the guy was done.

Once he’d finished, he disappeared again. Tecchou heard water running in the next room, which he’d rightfully assumed to be the bathroom, then a few cabinets were opened and stuff was displaced until a satisfied hum could be heard.

The man sat next to him and put something down, then mumbled to himself in Polish.

“Aleksander Wiśniewski, by the way,” he said directed at Tecchou, in English this time. “You can call me Olek.”

He opened something like a small box with a metallic click.

“The wound looks infected, I’ll get rid of the stitches.”

That was all he said before getting to work. With scissors, he divided every single stitch. They snapped open, letting the half-healed tissue be pulled apart slightly. Like a knife being stabbed into his flesh, Tecchou could feel it every time his skin moved just the smallest bit. He suppressed a pained noise when Olek began to remove the individual bits with tweezers. The fibres from the yarn he’d used hurt horribly when they were dragged through their individual wounds, leaving Tecchou with a mix of itching and pain that bit into his face.

It started right beneath his eye and Tecchou felt himself move the muscles of his face away from Olek, but that made it more difficult for him to work precisely.

His cheek felt a bit less intense, but as soon as the man reached his lips, he had to remove his second hand from Tecchou’s forehead to instead hold his chin in place, to stop his ‘patient’ from squirming too much.

Usually, Tecchou believed his pain tolerance to be high. He could walk off gunshots and being stabbed (although he was sure that the adrenaline of the fights played a role in that). He didn’t make a fuss about infected wounds or getting his stitches removed. So, this was odd for him, and he slowly began to connect the dots to find a reason. It was too early for all of that, though. He pushed it away for now.

When the last pieces were out, Tecchou could hear him pop a bottle open.

He only had enough time to dig his fingernails into his palms before a small wipe drenched in an antiseptic met his skin.

Clenching his jaw, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, but he didn’t move until Olek had wiped down the entire length of the wound.

Then, he used simple, long stripes of band-aids to patch him up, which was a lot less painful and uncomfortable than the rest.

Once the last bit of the wound was covered, Olek sat back.
“Done,” he announced with a sigh.

Tecchou forced his eyes open again. They burned and watered when he tried to make out the features of Olek’s face, so he gave up and stared at him without really recognising anything about him. The only things he could vaguely see were blonde hair and a pale face, with very light shadings where Tecchou thought his chin, mouth and eyes to be.

“Thank you.” His voice was incredibly hoarse and deep, he sounded like he had screamed for ages. Maybe he had. Tecchou couldn’t remember clearly. “Who are you? Why are you helping me?”

Olek shook his head. “I’ll tell you once we get to a better place, alright?”

Tecchou nodded. He doubted that the man who had just cleaned his wound would take him somewhere to kill him, so he decided to trust that stranger, even in a weakened state.

And exactly because of that state, he watched two blurry shadows reach out to him and grab him to make him sit upright, then they pulled him to his feet. Letting Olek help him up gave him a good idea of his strength. Physically, he was strong. Of course not stronger than Tecchou, but above average. Well-built as well.

He was shorter than the soldier, which allowed him to lean on Olek while they slowly walked through the apartment and left it not long after.

Walking was hard. It wasn’t necessarily anything physical beyond basic exhaustion that still plagued him, with the addition of him being on the floor for so long. Tecchou figured it was more of a mental blockage that he had to get over as soon as possible, so he concentrated on his body.

He figured out the dimensions of his body’s left side and made it put his left foot in front of the other. Then for the right side. Again. Again. He did that consciously until it became a routine his mind could follow without giving it too much thought.

Then, he focused on his eyes. He squeezed his eyelids together until everything disappeared from his vision, although the text on the wall seemed to linger—that wasn’t a physical thing, though, so he looked past it for now. He then slowly opened them bit by bit. He blinked a few times until the blurriness of his surroundings settled enough for him to make out details again.

Those were the only two functions of his body that he had the strength to recover. Finer motor skills and everything else had to wait for later.

Although his steps were still a bit staggered, he managed to walk alongside Olek, who brought them to a restaurant. It wasn’t too far away and Tecchou almost didn’t need his support anymore when they reached it. His vision was nearly completely back to its normal state and fully cleared when they were finally sitting and he got to sip on some sparkling water (Jouno had always hated that).

They were given menus and Tecchou began looking at the pictures rather than trying to decipher a language he didn’t understand.

Restaurants had always been a struggle for him and his eating habits. Having something that wasn’t plain or not in a same-coloured combination made him want to scratch his skin off. Tecchou didn’t know why. It wasn’t a normal thought to have, he was aware of that, but he didn’t know how to stop it. So, to avoid these thoughts, he kept to his habits.

He often had them under control when he was well-off mentally and he’d never injured himself due to them. But the pressing feeling that he would die, or that he had to harm himself if he ate something wrong, remained. Restaurants were barely doable for him. And especially not today.

“Have you ever had pierogi?” Olek asked, mistaking Tecchou’s worried expression for a struggle to choose. The soldier shook his head. “You should try, then. Trust me.”

“Thank you for the recommendation.”

He sighed with a frown. Pierogi with potato filling would come close enough to the same colour, and so did sour cream. It was not exactly the same but he’d manage, somehow. If not, then he could always stop eating but he probably looked sick already from the lack of a proper diet—and he felt that way, too, so that wouldn’t work. He closed his menu after the rather quick decision.

“My question still stands,” Tecchou reminded him, trying to sound casual over his increasingly worrying thoughts. “Who are you?”

Olek nodded. “I don’t expect you to remember, but we met when you were in charge of training new recruits with Mariusz—he was my uncle.”

“Oh,” Tecchou mumbled. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

An expression that Tecchou couldn’t decipher appeared on Olek’s face, but he continued talking. “I was a soldier you trained as well, but we never talked a lot. You once punched another recruit for making fun of me. Said something about proper comradery or whatever.”

Tecchou tilted his head to the side. He couldn’t remember that, and punching people had never really been his style. Maybe it had been a sparring match? Tecchou did go harder on misbehaving people during those.

His eyes wandered over Olek’s face. He hadn’t gotten that good of a look at him and his name didn’t sound familiar at all. He was a couple of years younger than Tecchou with blonde hair and light blue, piercing eyes. Nothing familiar about him, Tecchou had to admit.

He had more questions than just that, though.

“You didn’t seem surprised when you found Mariusz. Why?”

The answer had to be delayed because a waitress came to take their orders. Although he didn’t order a coffee, Tecchou asked for extra sugar packets and Olek didn’t seem surprised by that. Usually, people who met him for the first time acted appalled, like Tecchou had just admitted to eating people instead of ‘odd’ food. This added at least some credibility to the story about the recruit thing.

When the waitress took Olek’s order, Tecchou watched carefully. He flashed her a smile, showed his teeth. Leaned his arm over the backrest of the chair to show openness and confidence. But Tecchou could see something in his eyes. Or rather, the lack of something. They were dull and lacked any light despite their natural brightness. Tecchou knew that sight. And he hated it.

Olek was a good actor, though. Or maybe he went a bit overboard since Tecchou was aware that people of this culture didn’t smile too much in front of strangers.

He shifted in his seat a little and listened to the conversation in a language that he couldn’t understand, watching people he didn’t know.

When the waitress finally left, Olek turned back to the table. A bit of his smirk stayed but it dropped the moment his eyes met Tecchou’s. He sighed shortly.

“Mariusz got a call from—some girl that there might be a killer after him. And that you were chasing that killer.”

Tecchou’s head perked up.

“Teruko?”

“She didn’t say her name but if you think it was her, then yeah, probably.”

A smile tugged at Tecchou’s lips. Even though Teruko had sworn she wouldn’t help him, there were a few things she had done for him. He definitely owed her after this.

His smile faded quickly, however. “Why did Mariusz not flee? Or protect himself? The scene didn’t really look like a fight had occurred.” Although his memories of the living room were really blurry, there were some things he did remember. His eyes were trained to pick up on things like that almost on their own.

Olek shrugged. “Mariusz wasn’t… really someone who wanted to live, I guess.” He bit his lip and thought for a second. “He never made conscious efforts to end it himself but he was just living for the sake of living. With no real purpose or even just a path. So when the warning came, it was like an opportunity for him. Maybe he saw that as a better and more honourable way to go. There was still a soldier in his mind, you know?”

Tecchou nodded. Then, he suddenly remembered something he should have done earlier. He bowed a little. It wasn’t usual to do that here but he wanted to hide the tint of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“I’m Suehiro Tecchou. Nice to meet you again, and thank you for earlier.”

“I know who you are, and don’t worry about it. It’s only the rational thing to do.”

Without questioning that, Tecchou nodded again. “Right. Were you and Mariusz close?” he asked. While he didn’t doubt their relationship in any way, he wondered how Olek could stay this calm after his uncle had been murdered. He just wanted to understand the situation better to maybe figure out Jouno’s next move.

Olek shrugged in response. “My uncle was never ‘close’ to anyone. He always kept to himself.”

Tecchou remembered him a bit differently but he chose not to say anything.

“We saw each other often because we don’t have any other family left. Or well,” he laughed shortly, “I don’t have any other family left now.”

“I’m so—”

“Don’t say that.” There was a biting undertone in Olek’s voice, but he collected himself quickly. “It’ll be rough to go through the little stuff he had and sell his apartment. Nobody wants to live in a place where someone was murdered. And then the funeral…” He trailed off at the end, then shook his head. “I’ll figure it out.”

Their food came. Tecchou looked down at a plate of filled pierogi and sour cream. The waitress put down sugar in small packages next to his plate but gave him a slightly weirded-out look—Tecchou couldn’t blame her. He thanked her and ripped open all three sugar packages.

“What did your parents say about that?” Olek eyed Tecchou’s food suspiciously, now finally choosing to speak up about it. It wasn’t a genuinely curious question as the soldier noticed the thin undertone of someone who wanted to purposely hurt him. He was holding back, however, so Tecchou chose to answer like it had been a normal question.

“Hmm…” He watched the last crystals fall on top of the sour cream, building one small sugary mountain that he then spread out with his fork. “My mom died when the war came to Japan. I can’t really remember when the food habits started, but I think it was after I started fighting.”

He began to poke his pierogi with his fork before picking one up and shoving it into his mouth. With a sigh, he noticed that it was edible. And quite tasty, at that. He melted into his chair when his muscles finally relaxed a little. Not flexing all of them in stress felt strange and almost hurt, but the discomfort disappeared quickly.

“Ah, I see,” said Olek briefly, probably noticing that Tecchou didn’t intend to discuss this any further. He began eating his own pierogi, filled with spinach. In theory that sounded good to Tecchou, but he was sure he wouldn’t be able to eat that.

“How do you like them?” Olek pointed his fork at Tecchou’s plate, still suspicious.

“They’re very good! Thank you.” Tecchou offered him a smile, as he had the growing feeling there was some tension between him and Olek, which he couldn’t quite place his finger on just yet. Olek only looked down at his food again.

Tecchou picked up another pieróg. Different tastes clashed in his mouth, and so did different textures. The sugar crystals crunched between his teeth, while the rest of the food was softly chewy or melted on his tongue. He quite liked that combination. Same with the cold sour cream against the hot pierogi, and the sweet-savoury taste. It was nice.

He took another bite, then another one. Sweet. Potato. Pieróg, sour cream. Another bite.

Tecchou took his glass and drank a bit of water to neutralise the taste before going in again.

He picked up his fork. Sugar crunched between his teeth, potatoes were soft.

Or at least, he thought them to be sugar and potatoes.

He chewed for a bit more, but nothing tasted like anything. He quickly swallowed and took another bite. The textures remained the same, but the taste was completely gone, from one moment to the next, like a candle that had been blown out.

Tecchou picked up a different piece and tried it. Nothing. He almost dropped his fork before he forced himself to set it down carefully.

“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled before pushing his chair away from the table and heading towards the bathroom sign.

Entering it with quick steps, Tecchou turned on the sink and splashed cold water into his face. He could still feel that. Good. Letting it drip from his chin and the band-aids, as well as a bit from his hair where drops had been caught, he took a moment to let his lungs fill with air and deflate.

His eyes were on the sink, following the water flowing down the drain. Clear. No blood from his wounds as he’d feared.

Tecchou raised his head again and left the sink on as background noise when he looked in the mirror. He shook off any thought of seeming like a stranger to himself and focused on the issue at hand, even though it felt almost impossible to ignore all of that.

Loss of taste, whereas his pain tolerance went down significantly. It was early. If Tecchou wasn’t mistaken, he should still have about six or seven days left until symptoms would start to kick in. Maybe his body had been so exhausted from the injuries and stress that it took a complete toll on him since he hadn’t taken time to rest or get patched up by good doctors who usually dealt with him. This was bad. Really bad.

Tecchou shook his head. At this rate, he might drop dead even before the month was over. Or before he settled things with Jouno.

The sleeping problems and exhaustion while walking were also things he could now attribute to the decay of his body. They could’ve been symptoms of anything, which was why he hadn’t made the connection immediately. But it made sense. It was early and fast this time. Tecchou swallowed hard.

He rubbed more water over his face and ripped a few paper towels out of the dispenser to dry his skin. He tossed them in a bin and turned the tap off again.

For some reason, he felt calm. Only a few thoughts plagued him but he didn’t panic. His worries were not with him and his own well-being, after all. If he died, that would be fine. And if he believed those thoughts he’d had after finding Jouno’s message, this would be his preferred option.

He was more worried about Jouno. About what would happen to his friend after his death, and how that might affect or enable his actions. Sure, Jouno said he wanted him dead and Tecchou deserved that, but he couldn’t shake the fact that this was his own fault. He had brought himself and Jouno into this situation, and it would end with both of them.

His feelings were too complicated for him to grasp, so he wished he could turn them off. Simply switch them to how he felt about his impending death—meaning feeling nothing at all about Jouno. But he couldn’t, as it was getting worse than ever. He felt a sense of urgency after seeing Jouno in Russia as well as after reading his message. And now he was running tight on time.

Tecchou sighed. He had to move on, and his apathy towards his demise definitely helped him collect himself a bit. Not being able to taste the pierogi was a pity but he could at least try to work against that.

Reaching into his pocket, Tecchou took out the bottle of pills he’d taken with him. It was damaged, but as long as the pills were okay, it didn’t matter. He took one out and placed it under his tongue before screwing the jar shut again and putting it back in his coat. He returned to his table and downed the pill with a bit of water before going back to his pierogi.

The medicine kicked in when he was almost finished with his food, and the tiny bit of taste he regained was mostly sweet. Tecchou just wanted to get this meal over with, so he hurried and swallowed bites too big for his throat. Once he’d finished his pierogi, he put his fork down.

Olek glanced at him, then swallowed his last bit of food as well.

“The writing on the wall,” he said in an almost challenging tone. “What did it say?”

Satisfaction appeared on his face when Tecchou flinched. The image had faded a little but now it returned to him with full force. It was a cold feeling that hit his face all at once but then crept up his spine and into his neck uncomfortably, making him shiver.

His mouth opened to say something, but no sound would come out.

“Oh, I apologise! That’s probably too private.” Olek didn’t sound sorry at all. There was also no need to ask. Tecchou was sure that the police that’d later investigate the case would translate it as they had done with Jouno’s previous note.

It was still unclear to Tecchou just what this guy’s now more obvious issue with him was.

His mood and tone switched at once, confusing Tecchou further.
“What are you planning to do now?” he asked once the waitress had picked up their cleared plates.

It took the Hunting Dog a few more seconds to recover and regain his voice. Finally, he cleared his throat with a shrug. “I don’t think there’s anyone else around here Jouno would try to kill. And I don’t know if he’s still waiting for me in this city. I think if he’d planned to attack me, then he would’ve done so in the apartment. Like this, it was another step in his plan to ‘break’ me, and I suspect that his finale will come at the next stop. So, I’ll move on to Germany. I’m a bit unsure of how to proceed, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Ah.” Olek nodded briefly.

They sat in silence for a while. Tecchou didn’t mind that, even though it was by no means a comfortable one, as there was still tension between them. Tecchou’d realised he had some trouble following Olek’s lines of thinking. He couldn’t read him well at all, as he seemed to act and think in ways that went in the opposite direction of what Tecchou would go for: exaggerated behaviour and heavy switches in personality depending on who he was talking to. Tecchou knew people like this but it was a challenge to get used to them.

Olek clearly wasn’t the emotional type and tried his hardest to give the impression of having his feelings under perfect control, even after losing a loved one. And while Tecchou usually tried to keep a neutral face as well, this day had definitely proven to him that there were a lot of feelings inside of him that could break out quickly and all at once.

Tecchou had been like this when he was a child but it had faded over time. He’d taken the Colonel’s words to heart and controlled himself. He hadn’t thought that it would still be that way. That his emotions still controlled him like that instead of the other way around. Tecchou frowned. It was weird to think that Jouno would be the one to bring out all of this in him, but it also made sense.

An invisible hand grabbed him and violently dragged him back to reality.

“I despise you, Suehiro.”

Tecchou’s head shot up at the sudden words. There was no remorse in them, no hatred. It was a neutral statement and that fact made Tecchou shiver. It had come so suddenly with nothing to soften the blow. He was left with nothing but the naked truth that solely left him with questions.

“What?” was the only one he could ask.

“You heard me.” Olek shrugged. “It used to be different, back when I was a new recruit. You were someone many people looked up to, even my uncle. Someone where you could immediately tell that they lost everything but they used that to become stronger.”

Tecchou opened his mouth to correct him, but he couldn’t. And Olek didn’t seem to want to hear him out either.

“All the recruits admired you, even the ones who butted heads with you. I wanted to be like you, Suehiro. I now think that Mariusz became the way he was up until his death because of you.” Olek talked about this with as much emotion as a news reporter reading the weather. His voice was monotone but firm. It didn’t match the look in his eyes, though.

“But then…” He scoffed. “I arrived at Mariusz’s place shortly after you did. I heard you crying and screaming, all while apologising to that guy. Jouno.”

Tecchou felt his face drain of all blood.

“You apologised over and over again until your voice died. Screamed for that long, too.” Now, the only identifiable feeling in Olek’s voice was pure disgust. It went under Tecchou’s skin, felt thick and gross in his veins. “I was so appalled by this that I only came back to collect you hours later.”

Tecchou could only swallow. His palms began to sweat at the sudden confrontation but all he did was listen.

“Tell me, Suehiro. Why doesn’t Mariusz deserve an apology? Because you wouldn’t deserve his forgiveness anyway? Because he’s dead? Why would his murderer deserve one?”

“I—” But Olek wouldn’t let him speak.

“Why does Jouno get to live while Mariusz had to die? I thought you wanted ‘justice’? This is what you kept going on about almost ten years ago. How did you lose that way? Why is the life of this murderer worth more than that of a good man?”

Tecchou bit the inside of his cheek. He did not have any answers for him.

“What did that message say that it made you beg for forgiveness? You’re not thinking rationally.” Mariusz leaned forward and almost spat those words in his face.

“I know,” Tecchou finally said. “I’m aware of that.” He sounded a lot less confident than he meant to, and Olek noticed that.

“Then snap out of it!” he demanded. “Tell me, Suehiro,” he raised his voice and people turned their heads towards them, “when did you stop killing those who committed such atrocities? Why did you lose your way like this?!”

All Tecchou could do was stare at him. He did want to arrest Jouno. That was still true. He just didn’t want to kill him. As for why Jouno deserved an apology while Mariusz didn’t, and why Jouno deserved to live—this all was beyond Tecchou’s own comprehension.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

The table shook when the back of Olek’s hand struck him across the cheek on his healthy side. Tecchou was sure this force could’ve torn open the wound on the other half of his face. It burnt like hell nevertheless. And yet, Tecchou didn’t move to touch the spot. He simply turned his face back to Olek.

A few voices around them got louder in concern and a chair was moved, but Olek yelled something in Polish and everyone minded their own business again. He then looked at Tecchou and stared right into his eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” Olek told him. There was so much anger in his voice that it shook ever so slightly

Tecchou stared back.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Olek.”

“What?” He seemed taken aback for a moment, then his face turned slightly red. “You’re disregarding everything I just said and think this is coming only from a place of grief?!”

“No. I think you’re completely right. And that’s why I’m apologising to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Or that of Mariusz. Or that of Jouno. I know that Jouno deserves to die. And if he does, then so do I. The demise of the both of us is almost inevitable.” Tecchou sighed. “And I’d started to imagine scenarios for the time after all of this. But you’re right. You’re right…” He trailed off at the end.

Tecchou didn’t even know what he was saying or thinking. But what Olek told him was correct. It was what Tecchou would tell others if they were in his shoes. It was what the other Hunting Dogs and his superiors would say to him. And they were correct, this was non-negotiable. Tecchou had to come to terms with that.

Olek crossed his arms. His face still read anger and Tecchou knew there was nothing he could do against the hatred directed at him.

“Mariusz’s blood is on my hands as well. He died because of me. So… I will make sure he’ll have been the last victim. The next to die will be Jouno and me.”

Tecchou’s eyes wandered and focused on a point behind Olek. He couldn’t even tell if he was talking only to please him and ease his negative feelings and grief only the smallest bit, or if he really meant it. But he was sure it was the latter. It had to be. Because it was the right line of thinking that he had to follow.

“You helped clean my wounds and picked me up from the apartment because you still had faith in me. That I would snap out of it and return to being the person you knew. Is that right?” Olek didn’t say anything but Tecchou saw him nod slightly. “Thank you for opening my eyes again.” Tecchou bowed. “I won’t keep wasting your time. I’m glad that we met again.”

He pulled out his wallet and tossed money onto the table. It was probably too much but by far not enough of a tip for the scene they had caused. After that, Tecchou left quickly and without saying goodbye.

Olek moved and for a second Tecchou thought he’d run after him, but he didn’t.

The two parted ways like they’d met each other a few hours ago: as nothing more than strangers.

It was an abrupt ending and it left Tecchou even more confused than before. He wished he could stop feeling and thinking altogether. He wanted to turn into a mindless soldier, akin to a machine or tool being used for its intended purposes only. He’d been close to that before and now he wished to finally cross that bridge. Giving back his body to people who could use him sounded like the most comfortable course of action.

Maybe he was too weak for this world but he wished for that not to be the case. Although he was too weak to feel, that was for sure.

~~~

Tecchou couldn’t reach Teruko.

He would put in her number and wait for her to pick up, but she never did. Not after the first time, and not after the tenth time three hours later.

It didn’t have to mean anything bad. She might just be on a mission, so it was natural for her not to carry her phone. He chose not to leave a voice mail, in case anyone else got her device into their hands, then he gave up.

Tecchou leaned against the glass of the telephone booth. He felt tired. Completely drained. Both emotionally and physically, and in a way where he couldn’t tell what was causing it. It could be general exhaustion from the past week, or it could be his body continuing to fall apart. He hoped for it to be the first but was sure that it would be the latter.

Despite seemingly running out of time, the urgency to follow Jouno had suddenly fallen off his shoulders. It was like finally accepting that he might have to kill him—that killing him was the better option, even—caused him to hesitate.

‘Procrastination’ was a term his mother had used for homework or chores. It seemed too little and insignificant to be applied to killing the man who was most important to him, but that was the closest word he could find.

Tecchou sighed and got a few more coins out of his pocket and put in Sigma’s number. Again, nothing.

He pushed the telephone box’s door open and left into the cold once more. Spring hadn’t yet hit this part of Europe. It was cold but too warm for it to still be snowing, so it rained instead. He wondered how the weather was back in Japan… Tecchou had lost all track of time and it caused him trouble imagining the current climate.

Soft rain hit his face as he walked down the street and to the next pharmacy. He purchased every medication he deemed helpful to make the expected symptoms more bearable and that he could get without a prescription. When the pharmacist gave him a concerned and weirded-out glance, he explained to her that he’d just moved here. No further context was added when she simply nodded. He got a bag and thanked her before walking out again.

The exhaustion started sitting deeper in his bones, so Tecchou downed a black coffee before wandering through the city.

Yes, this was procrastination. It would be a pain to overcome.

He leaned his head back and looked into the grey, cloudy sky. Rain fell on his skin. He hated it, but there weren’t many places to seek shelter at this moment. He kept walking. As long as it wasn’t warm rain or drained his clothes too much, he wouldn’t be too bothered by it. An uneasiness stuck with him, though, and he had to try harder to suppress images that might come flooding his mind.

Adding to that stress, his legs started aching again which caused him to take his first painkiller. And two more—his enhanced body needed that.

Then, he just continued strolling around. The sky was getting a bit darker as the sun began to set, and the rain intensified.

Tecchou squirmed in his clothes when they started to stick to his skin, making it feel weirdly tight on his flesh. When his heart began to beat faster, he stood beneath a tree for a while to rest.

Looking around, he noticed he recognised a few of the buildings. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was looking at the house Mariusz had lived in, just from the other side.

Tecchou sighed. He would put an end to this in order to stop more lives from being lost.

There were still children playing between the bushes, out in the rain. Different children than he’d seen when he’d first come here. They were happy. Alive. Living a normal childhood, which he’d sworn to protect.

Tecchou had never really wished to be a child again. What had happened was in the past and he couldn’t undo that, but now he found himself wanting to undo everything. He wanted to be a child again. He wanted to lie in the garden with Jouno and collect bugs with him even though Jouno hated them. He wanted his childhood bedroom back, the toys he had played with. His mother.

But all of that was long lost. All he had left was Jouno. But Jouno, too, needed to go.

Tecchou sighed deeply. He needed to get it together. Olek was right. All he had said was right. Even though it had overwhelmed Tecchou at that moment, he had to accept that this was the reality of it, and he needed to change the way he thought about things.

He was being irrational. Didn’t orient himself towards justice anymore and therefore he deserved to die. He should cut his stomach open or have Fukuchi behead him. He had strayed away from the thing that had given his life meaning, for the person who had done that same thing for him prior to that. But that person didn’t want to be the purpose of his life, he wanted it to end. Jouno didn’t want Tecchou near him anymore. So, justice had been all that was left. And even that was gone now. He had to try and pick up the broken pieces of it that he still had.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He regretted how things had gone down between him and Olek. Although he was sure that a part of Olek’s reactions had been caused by grief and his unwillingness to let himself accept that feeling, it was not Tecchou’s place to help him through this. Grief was personal, Tecchou was aware of this, and he barely knew Olek. Thus, it would have been impossible for him to offer support.

He shouldn’t use that grief to discredit what Olek had told him, as he was correct: Tecchou was a failure of a person and soldier. Instead of protecting the ones who couldn’t protect themselves, he was running after Jouno.

If Jouno had been any other criminal, he would have condemned him.

Tecchou would have condemned any other person for the actions he was committing right now.

It was conflicting. Tecchou hated it.

He missed being told what to do. He missed being a soldier, a ‘mindless dog’, as Jouno would probably call it. In a way, he thought he would benefit from being told to kill Jouno by someone who had authority over him. With that, he would feel pushed to do it and would probably end up finishing the job without thinking about it as much.

Olek had told him that, and Tecchou had to hold onto it.

Tecchou still wondered if it was good to be told what to do in a situation like this and if being a dog in his job was beneficial. If Jouno’s words about the military had been right all along. But it didn’t really matter, he told himself. Because there was no way he was going back to the military anyway. Justice could exist outside of it, and so could Tecchou’s morals.

He dropped his hands and looked at the building where Mariusz had lived.

‘I loved you’

Tecchou’s chest stung. He hadn’t wanted to think about it again. But he realised he had to, in order to move forward.

There had been no way for him to properly process this earlier, and he still didn’t think clearly enough to fully judge the situation. He was also worried that his mental state would deteriorate quickly from now on, along with his body falling apart.

He couldn’t grasp what Jouno had meant. What the implications were. If it was true or not, or if Jouno was only lying to him to mess with his psyche.

And Tecchou didn’t know what he truly thought about this.

He wanted to ask Jouno in person and talk it all out. This was his ideal scenario but he needed to kill him instead. Any past feelings shouldn’t matter. Love of no shape or form had a place in their fight. Only actions did.

Another thought popped up in his mind. An answer. Usually, people gave an answer to an ‘I love you’. But what about an ‘I loved you’ in the past tense? Would there be an answer to this? Tecchou didn’t think he had one. Not for the past, and definitely not for the present.

He shook his head and once again tried to imagine anyone else in his shoes, and any other criminal replacing Jouno, as this was the only way he could get himself to think about this rationally. He would tell the soldier that the criminal was toying with him or trying to get into his head. He was being manipulated maliciously, someone was taking advantage of his emotions and possible feelings.

Then he tried to apply those thoughts to Jouno and himself. But it didn’t work. It never did, never would.

Because Jouno was different. Tecchou was different.

He didn’t lack the capacity to grasp these concepts—he understood them quite well, actually. He was aware of his lack of rational thinking.

Tecchou shook his head. Trying to find a justification for that would be wrong.

Pushing his feelings down, he stepped back into the rain.

He walked by the buildings again.

While wondering if Mariusz’s body was still there, Tecchou thought about the only piece of wall decoration that he’d had. A picture that had lain on the living room floor. It was blurry in his mind, as he hadn’t paid attention to it, but if his memory wasn’t betraying him at this moment, it had been two men standing next to each other in a friendly pose. Mariusz and Olek.

“I’m sorry,” Tecchou whispered although nobody could hear him.

~~~

Despite the fatigue, Tecchou couldn’t fall asleep in his hotel room. He had told himself he would take a night to recover (procrastination) and then figure out his next step in the morning.

But not only his thoughts kept him up—it was also his body. He was physically unable to find rest. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours on end, Tecchou found a comfortable position. His eyes, however, wouldn’t close. He blankly stared into the room that was only dimly lit by the lights outside, appearing dark blue through his curtains.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see the wall with Jouno’s message. Whenever he closed his eyes, he grew restless regardless of the exhaustion.

Tecchou had his fair share of experience with sleeping problems, nightmares and the like, but he’d never felt like he did now.

Maybe his experience with the due date for his surgeries had been similar in the past, but he could barely remember the restlessness. With that thought in mind, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed the bottle of pills. He swallowed one, hoping it would allow him to calm down.

He got under the blankets again and forced his eyes to close. Pushing the images flooding his mind away, he placed a hand on his chest. His heartbeat was still regular and normal, which relieved him a little.

Tecchou tried to concentrate on the beating of his heart, and nothing else. That was all he needed at this moment in time.

Unfortunately, that did not help either. His stomach dropped when he looked at the current time and realised how little sleep he had left.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes and bit his lip. Running on no sleep while his body was actively falling apart wasn’t good. He didn’t know if it would worsen the process and make it faster, but to him, sleep had always felt safe and like a recovery of sorts.

He left his bed again and turned the light on.

The package inserts of the medication he’d bought were long. The letters were printed way too small for his exhausted eyes to decipher. Tecchou stepped closer to the lamp on his nightstand and let his thumb wander down the side effects row by row. They were mostly life-threatening, not exactly what he was looking for.

Discarding the package, he grabbed his medication for nausea next.

Side effects: rashes, headaches. Tecchou’s eyes skipped from word to word rather than reading them as a continuous string. Back and forth between different columns, mixing common side-effects with uncommon ones.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. Under the most common side-effects, ‘fatigue’ was listed.

Tecchou suppressed the urge to take a handful and instead opted for something just a tiny bit higher than the rule of thumb his doctors had beaten into him: ‘for every single pill that a normal person takes, take three’. So, Tecchou took four. He didn’t feel nauseous. Not even the tiniest bit. But he would do anything to sleep, even if it meant misusing medication that way.

It was fine, he told himself. It would only be this one time because he was short on hours he had left tonight.

Tecchou downed the pills one by one with water straight from the tap. Some of them almost made him gag from how much space they took up when going down his throat. He sighed deeply and wiped excess water from the corners of his mouth. That was it. Now he had to wait.

Crawling back into bed, Tecchou fixed the position of his pillow and pulled the blanket over himself. He stared at the dark back of his eyelids for a while until the gravity around him shifted. It was an abyss opening up beneath his feet and he could almost physically feel himself being pulled down into it. The laws of physics worked differently in that abyss and he felt a constant pull.

Down, down, down.

It was a dream where he was falling but he didn’t jolt awake at his impending death.

He kept falling until he wished for a ground to hit that would finally kill him and put him out of this situation.

Tecchou fell and never hit the ground.

The abyss forced him to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Stop sulking!” Gogol lightly kicked his shin with an obvious pout in his voice.

The Clown wasn’t someone Jouno would ever share his feelings with. To be honest, there was not a single person Jouno would confide those in. The last person had been Tecchou and that had not gone well at all back then, to put things lightly. When war had become his new normal, he’d been scared and felt a change happen in his mind, so he’d told Tecchou about it. But Tecchou had turned his back to him.

He'd made peace with that, though. The pain from that had vanished and allowed for his new normal to bloom: the one he had now.

But Tecchou’d come back into his life to tear these old wounds open once more. He was pestering him with his presence, with his words and actions. Jouno could feel himself change again. And he lost sleep over that.

He didn’t like admitting that it was a lot more than just losing his sleep, but he was sure he would never let himself live with a confession like that.

“I’m not ‘sulking’!” Jouno made exaggerated quotation marks with his hands.

“You look like you’re sulking, though,” Gogol retorted as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Thinking about that guy again, hmmmm?” His voice sounded mostly teasing but Jouno had a hard time guessing the implications of that sentence in combination with the context and tone.

He sighed and decided to be honest with what he’d observed. Not with his feelings. Only the facts.

“I heard him. When we left that apartment in Poland and I waited for you to return, I heard Tecchou scream his lungs out.” Trying to make his voice sound as conversational as possible, Jouno cleared his throat. “He cried, screamed, and yelled… he was apologising to me. Over and over again.”

Jouno pressed his lips together. An apology. He was unsure if that was what he’d been looking for. And if he could forgive Tecchou, for that matter.

“He’s trying to manipulate you,” Gogol deduced with a snap of his fingers.

“Wha—” Jouno shook his head in confusion. “He didn’t even know I was listening! Oh, fuck off, why did I even try to tell you about this…”

“I think it’s obvious,” sang Gogol and Jouno groaned in response.

“Tecchou’s never been like this. He’s honest and blunt, he wouldn’t go that far to manipulate someone.”

Which meant that his reactions and apologies were genuine. Jouno almost found himself preferring the manipulation hypothesis.

Tecchou’s honesty had always been a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he was easy to talk to. He didn’t sugar-coat things and spoke his mind, so Jouno understood him easily and didn’t have to wrap his head around why people lied or other factors they randomly threw into conversations which then actively made them harder. Sure, Jouno could tell a lot about a person by listening to their tone as well as signals from their body, but it was irritating nonetheless.

When it came to his bluntness, Tecchou’d also gotten himself in trouble with that. Mostly with people who couldn’t handle that honesty. It had been both annoying and amusing back in their childhood, although Jouno didn’t want to think about that.

“Sure, sure!” Gogol shrugged. “If you say so!”

Jouno grabbed one of his knives and aimed at Gogol’s head, but the Clown saved himself with the overcoat just in time.
“Aha scary!” And with that, he disappeared. Jouno shook his head and put his knife back in place with a sigh.

He could feel eyes on him, so he turned towards the workers.

“Hey! Back to work!” he barked at them and just a moment later, the production resumed. That was Jouno’s background noise when he walked out of the building and into the field behind the factory.

He knew that wandering around could be a problem, as the people still living in this area were quite resilient and had refused to leave, even after a few encounters with Gogol and Jouno as well as the local authorities. They had been a pain and being seen by them might cause more problems.

Nevertheless, Jouno risked it because he liked the air here. It still smelled of winter even though it had been a decent temperature the past few days. It was only the end of January, however, so Jouno suspected that snow would come back again sooner rather than later.

For now, he could comfortably sit down on a lonely chair he’d placed there the day before and leaned his head back. The sun was out and shone warmly on his skin, melting his facial muscles from the frown he’d been wearing into a more relaxed look.

He was unsure what Gogol’s goal had been back there… Maybe it had been to get Jouno to distrust Tecchou or to make him like Tecchou even less (if that was even possible), but then it had been a very lazy attempt to manipulate someone he should know wasn’t easily influenced.

Tecchou, on the other side of this, wasn’t a manipulator. Or at least, Jouno had never known him as one.

Speaking of Tecchou—his bloodcurdling screams had been haunting him ever since. Jouno wouldn’t have minded that much if they had replaced the usual voices of Tecchou ghosting through his mind, but they had only added to them.

It wasn’t only Tecchou, though. He remembered that child he’d saved. Sometimes, they took the stage. And Jouno hadn’t even known them. Other times, it was voices of his past. People he’d known telling him he fought well, thanking him for what he’d done during the war. Hell, sometimes he even heard the Colonel praise him for doing well during fights. Tecchou’s mother whispered to him that he’d be okay and that his thoughts and feelings weren’t ‘wrong’. That he was loved.

His mind was constantly loud to the point where Jouno thought he was going insane. Rationally, he knew he wasn’t. He was conscious, functioned more or less normally, and he could still think. The contents of his thoughts would never cease to bother him, though.

What Jouno missed the most was being able to sleep. When the world around him was quiet, the volume of his thoughts was amplified. He opted for distracting himself by walking around the factory aimlessly or forcing the joke of a phone he currently had to play an audiobook for him. The lack of sleep only made it harder for him, though.

Jouno wondered if acceptance would lead to this being any more bearable. But he didn’t want to accept—not this. He’d already accepted the things he’d left Tecchou a message about, although his intentions behind that itself weren’t even clear to him.

He hated how irrational Tecchou made him. That he would bring things like fear, sadness, and the like out in him. Joy, even. When they’d been children, Tecchou had made him happy. Every last bit of this all but faded over the years, although now that Tecchou’d barged back into his life, he experienced deep emotions again. And not only the cheap thrills he got from hurting others. He hated to admit it but that paled in comparison to how Tecchou was making him feel, had always made him feel. To how everyone else back then had made him feel.

Jouno dragged his hands over his face and thought back to Gogol’s words about Tecchou manipulating him. Really, he wasn’t like that. If there was one thing Jouno was sure of, then it was this. Tecchou didn’t manipulate people, unlike others Jouno knew—unlike the Colonel or his father. Unlike Jouno himself.

Usually, the moment Jouno noticed traits in a person that reminded him of either of these men, they were dead to him. He could remain civil but any foundation for a relationship between him and them was gone. Tecchou’d never been like any of that, he’d represented the opposite for Jouno for a long time. Tecchou had been safe. Calm, caring, and with his emotions under control. However, there was no way Jouno could know if those qualities still held for Tecchou today.

Jouno made a face. He was manipulative. He was hateful and angry. Nothing about him was recognisable anymore. To himself, it was familiar. However, he didn’t recognise that self as Jouno Saigiku—but instead, as the man who’d carried the name ‘Jouno’ before him. Maybe that name had been tainted. But Jouno didn’t deserve anything else at this point. He’d become like the man he despised a long time ago.

There was nothing left of that little boy Jouno Saigiku. He wondered how much was left of Suehiro Tecchou, but he couldn’t tell. Maybe all was lost of both of them.

As children, they’d been inseparable. Finding their way back to each other was like something Jouno had been fated to, although he was unsure if it was punishment for his actions and abandoning killing only his enemies, or if it was a last attempt to save him. He believed in neither fate nor higher punishment. Also not in salvation. So his pain had no point.

Jouno felt like there was no going back. He had to continue holding onto what he had because even if he changed his mind, there was no way he could undo all that he’d done. Although he’d had that wish as a child and teen, Jouno was well aware that after all the crimes he’d committed, there was no return from that.

Guilt was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, even after killing seemingly innocent people only for the sake of getting back at Tecchou—for someone like him, there was no turning around. All he could do was continue spiralling on this downward path until it killed him—unless he managed to stabilise it once more.

And for that, he had to rid himself of Tecchou.

When he’d been thirteen, he’d feared that his best friend hated him for his pleasure in other people’s pain. Now, he hoped for Tecchou to hate him. He wanted Tecchou to start a fight, prove to Jouno that he hated him still, that Jouno wasn’t someone who could be liked and valued by Tecchou or anyone else. It was proof that Jouno couldn’t go back, ever. He wanted Tecchou to give him a reason to kill him. A real one that he could grasp and turn into the strength he needed.

He wanted Tecchou to show that hatred towards him, turn into an uncontrollable monster in front of him much like others had before him.

Jouno was weak. Tecchou made him that way. Tecchou robbed him of everything he had, the life he had built after getting out of prison.

Tecchou needed to die.

But Jouno had no reasons to kill him.

~~~

When Tecchou got off the plane, his head and ears hurt horribly. He’d never had issues while up in the air, but this flight from Poland to Germany had been terrible for him. The changes in pressure had been more painful than his deepest dives into the sea.

In the area for baggage claim, he was glued to the vending machine with various drinks. Squinting at the coins in his hand, he did the math for how much he had to pay and dropped it into the machine. He picked the sparkling water and downed four, five different pills with it, then left the airport.

This time, Tecchou had no specific leads for where to go. The day before had been spent researching and trying to call Teruko over and over again, but he’d eventually given up.

Tecchou had no idea what people he’d talked to or worked with, so he’d tried to remember the area in which he’d stayed. Unable to recall the name of the military base, he’d clicked himself through all the ones that popped up across the country’s map, until he’d found one that sounded vaguely familiar. After noting it down, he’d jumped on a plane the following day and now he was here.

With a sigh, he started walking towards the exit. His drive shouldn’t be too long, although Tecchou thought about taking the train to his destination. Because, if his health continued to decline so rapidly, he might end up endangering other people on the road if he were to drive himself.

He settled on trying to use a car but if his condition worsened, he would switch to public transport. It was almost pathetic, but his already heavy reliance on various medicines showed him that he wouldn’t make it for too long anymore.

His usual procedure got him a vehicle and he took off.

His first stop was a shady electronics shop by a corner somewhere. He bought a cheap off-brand smartphone and got it to work before pocketing it and heading out. Its only saved number was Andrei’s. The device would also make navigation easier and allow him to discard his paper map.

The roads he drove on were wide and allowed many cars to fit on them, but they mostly led through nothing at all. He saw fields or forests speeding past him. Farmland passed by for a while, then it went back to forests. He crossed rivers, drove through tunnels under mountains and through valleys amidst hills.

Winter brought brown earth and trees to this area, but some snow patches remained. Other fields had stayed green, so Tecchou quite enjoyed his drive. Others were quick to overtake him, taking advantage of the lack of speed limits, but he didn’t let anyone bother him.

Usually, Tecchou would feel at peace seeing this landscape.

But somehow, even though he was driving at this very moment, it felt like he’d done so ages ago. His mind’s time split from the actual linear time of reality and ran parallel to it but far, far away. The trees looked like they’d been filmed on an old camera that made changes to them that Tecchou couldn’t identify. Everything looked off but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

Forcing his eyes on the street, Tecchou decided that the grey asphalt wouldn’t betray him like that. It was the same colour as always, just as bland as what he knew from home. He could trust it.

The music from the radio seemed an octave too low, too slow, and slightly distorted, but when he concentrated on it, all was normal. He was quick to turn the music off and instead listened only to the sounds of his car and the road.

Although the drive had only taken him about forty minutes thus far, he needed to stop at a gas station as his hands were beginning to tremble. He got two coffees inside to combat the exhaustion and fatigue from the medication and packed a rather disgusting-smelling energy drink for the way. A plain croissant for the stinging hunger that he ate in less than a minute.

In the restroom, he hung over the toilet for an hour throwing everything he’d just had back up.

It was painful, every contraction of his abdominal muscles was. The back of his throat burned horribly from the stomach acid. It left his heart a mess, making it beat faster than most battles did. Maybe he did fear pain and death after all.

Even though he felt all of that so intensely, everything passed by too quickly. No moment lingered. He found himself amidst actions like someone had cut scenes out of the roll of film that was his life. The moments in between weren’t black by many means—the snippets of film had been glued together, forcing him to jump through time and space. And yet always moving forward.

He went to the gas station. He paid. He was in the bathroom. He threw up.

Frantic eyes searched the toilet bowl for any traces of red, but they found none.

He looked into the mirror above the sink and watched blood trickle out of his nose, painfully slowly and itching above his upper lip.

He was in the car again.

Tecchou’s fingers fumbled with the keys to start the engine when someone knocked on his window. He almost jumped and whipped his head around.

An older man stared into his car with a frown and motioned for him to open his window, so Tecchou did.

Immediately, the man started talking to him but Tecchou’s German wasn’t good enough for him to understand, so he simply shook his head in confusion.

“Oh…” said the man when he finished his rant and looked into a pair of deeply confused eyes. “Englisch?”
Tecchou nodded, so the man switched.

“Are you okay? I was takin’ a piss earlier and noticed your—stuff in the bathroom. And also your—” he pointed his finger at his face. Tecchou lifted his hand and touched his nose. Blood. Ah, yes, he remembered. Before he could wipe his face with his sleeve, the man offered him a paper tissue.

Tecchou thanked him and took it, lifting it to his nose.

“Your hands are shakin’ as well. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” the soldier replied. He’d always thought that people in this area usually minded their own business, so he was a bit surprised by being approached. He did appreciate the concern, though.

“It wouldn’t be a problem for me at all!” the man insisted. “I’m just worried for your safety and that of others, ya know?”

Tecchou froze for a second and clenched his jaw. His safety and that of others. Right. His brain was so blurry that he’d forgotten about what he’d sworn to himself earlier. With any sign of his condition worsening, he would stop and travel differently.

“Actually, is this in your general direction?” Tecchou got his temporary phone out of his pocket. He had put a pin in his navigation app that was near the military base. It didn’t show the base itself on the map, probably for a good reason.

The man reached for his phone and zoomed out a little with a thoughtful face, then nodded when he recognised the route.

“It is! Near my former home. I can totally take you there!”

Tecchou’s face lit up. “Thank you!”

He got out of his car when the man offered him a hand for a handshake. He was a bit taller than Tecchou and appeared to be in his mid-fifties.

“Patrick, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Tecchou.” They shook hands and Tecchou noticed how strong Patrick’s grip was compared to his.

Wondering about what he should do with the car, he settled on leaving it. He wrote a quick note with the rental place’s name and phone number, as well as a simple ‘Sorry’ that he placed visibly behind his windshield.

Tecchou grabbed all of his belongings from the vehicle and let Patrick lead him across the gas station to a truck. They circled it and he opened the right door for Tecchou.

“Hop on!”

Tecchou complied. He climbed into the truck and fastened his seatbelt while Patrick closed his door and walked to the other side.

Once he was seated as well, the trucker twisted the keys. The engine was loud and Tecchou curiously peaked out of the window as they rolled out of the parking lot. He’d been on a lot of tall vehicles in the military, much taller than this one, but he’d never been on a simple delivery truck before.

“What are you dropping off?” he asked. The trailer was a plain white one (or at least it used to be white, as dirt and weather had given it a grey colour), so he hadn’t been able to guess the contents.

“Some equipment for a hospital. Nothing major,” Patrick told him casually.

He sped up and eventually drove onto the highway again.

The man was very conversational. He asked if Tecchou had been to Germany before and wanted to know what languages the soldier spoke. Tecchou answered the questions honestly and he was glad there was seemingly no interest in what he wanted to do at his destination, or what he’d wrapped in his coat that he was holding so tightly. If attention fell on those, Tecchou would have to lie or avoid answering somehow—too many bystanders already knew about what his deal was.

Patrick, on the other hand, was open. His family, consisting of his wife, son, and himself, had moved just a few months ago, which had been quite sad for them since they’d loved their home. However, they were building a nice, new one with inherited money. He loved his son, who was now attending university, and he loved his wife, who was going to take him on a holiday to Majorca soon. His life was going well, and he hoped to make other people’s lives better as well. And, in Tecchou’s case, he was succeeding.

The ride was nice. Tecchou liked watching cars much faster than them pass by and he liked the vague floaty feeling he got from this without his thoughts completely slipping away. Patrick’s talking kept him mostly in the here and now, although a few sentences had to be repeated for him when Tecchou’s mind cut out. Every time, that earned him a concerned look.

“You look a lot better now than earlier.”

The comment caught Tecchou off-guard, but he nodded. “I feel a bit better as well, thank you.” Although it was only thanks to several pills he’d downed. But that was fine. Better was better, right?

Tecchou was already running low on some. The thought of the pain worsening made his pulse rise noticeably. Only a few more days, that was all he needed to find Jouno and settle this once and for all. But he didn’t know if he had that time.

He swallowed and fixed his eyes on the road again as Patrick pulled over to another gas station maybe an hour or two after they’d started their ride.

“Can you walk from here?” he asked. Tecchou checked the distance on his phone.
“Yes, it’s fine.”

When he reached into his pocket to pull out money, Patrick declined with a wave of his hand.

“That was nothing,” he reassured him, making Tecchou nod. It wasn’t like he was running out of money. He’d saved up quite the sum throughout the years, but he wanted to be careful with his spending. That didn’t apply to repaying people. However, he realised that being treated with kindness couldn’t usually be paid for with money.

“Thank you so much.”

Patrick smiled, Tecchou mirrored it.

“Take care,” the trucker told him and Tecchou nodded.
“You too.”

They said their goodbyes and Tecchou took off again with his heart a little warmer than usual.

As soon as he’d walked a few hundred metres away from the gas station, it was like a mask slipped from his face. The bubble of fatigue that had been contained somewhere in his brain popped and spilled all its contents into Tecchou’s body. The aching in his legs returned but he tried his best to ignore that. He just kept on putting one foot in front of the other with his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. Maybe, if he didn’t see his body, it would magically heal.

The nosebleed had been the most worrying—he wasn’t trying to think about that, though. He didn’t want to think about any of this if he was being honest, but he couldn’t exactly forget that his body was rotting from the inside.

He walked along smaller streets with little to no cars. This area was more countryside than anything else, so the air was fresh. Despite the sun it still smelled like winter and frost, whereas Poland and Russia had been mostly rainy—although he’d heard that the seasons in this area were quite unpredictable. For now, he appreciated the positive change in weather greatly, and he used the little bit of energy it gave him wisely.

After about ten minutes of walking, Tecchou noticed the pain in his legs intensifying, so he took a break. Sitting down on a bench by a lonesome bus stop, he watched cars drive by every now and then. The bush next to him that took up half of the bench wasn’t sprouting just yet, confirming the weather’s unpredictability. Other trees hadn’t started to green either.

Tecchou stretched his arms above his head. They didn’t hurt as much as his legs did, but he also used them a lot less at the moment.

Never, ever had he imagined that the process would be this fast. Usually, he only experienced the fatigue and inability to fall asleep, as well as some headaches or even migraines. But this had spread so quickly, clearly signalling him how much he’d been neglecting his body and hadn’t allowed it to heal properly. His flesh and bones were dying faster than him—it was the price he had to pay.

Tecchou drank some of the energy drink he had. It was disgusting, but it made him feel a bit more awake and the sugar helped clear his head a little, then he continued his journey.

With slow steps, he walked past more fields, then away from the street down a path not suitable for cars, which led him to a forest.

It was around afternoon when he entered, walking down a hiking trail to avoid stumbling over roots or rocks. When Tecchou looked up, he could still see the sky, as none of the trees had regained their leaves yet. It was a deep blue with only few clouds that didn’t move much due to the wind being very light.

Not a soul was there with him. Tecchou didn’t hear any dogs running in the distance, finally off the leash, and he couldn’t see any people around either. It didn’t surprise him, since the last houses had been a couple of kilometres behind him and he expected military grounds to start soon, just beyond the forest. He thought that people probably told their children to not come near his destination, as they feared for their safety. Although the presence of military bases didn’t usually endanger civilians, Tecchou understood wanting to avoid them.

With that thought in mind, Tecchou began coming up with what to say to the people there. Both to be let in and gain credibility, and to get access to any records concerning him. It would be hard—he probably wasn’t officially with the military anymore, and turning up and knocking on the door at a foreign country’s military base wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

Tecchou would manage somehow, he thought.

He walked by a small stream and stared at it for a couple of minutes. The flow was quick for such a narrow creek and the surface acted as a mirror he could look into. Tecchou’s reflection, however, was distorted as his face kept getting torn apart by the water’s movement. He blinked a few times and the person within the water did the same. It was hard for his brain to comprehend, somehow.

Tecchou ran his thumb along the wound on his face and watched his mirrored image follow along. He’d removed the band-aids and it still hurt when he touched it. The gash was visible but not that infected anymore, and he could clearly feel it under his finger. It was a long wound. The new, scarred tissue was uneven and bumps of small scars were forming where his stitches had been. Most of the gash was still covered in scab rather than new skin, so he decided it would be better not to touch it anymore.

After dropping his hand again, he stared into the stream for a few more seconds before resuming his walk.

Checking his phone told him that he was close to where he wanted to be. He let it slide back into his pocket, then looked in the direction he needed to go in. A steep hill led up to the end of the forest, but due to the raised earth, he wasn’t able to see what was beyond it.

Leaning forward for balance, Tecchou made his way up with his hands close to the ground to catch himself early in case he were to slip and fall. He looked up to see the edge come closer, so he clenched his jaw and fought on. Unlike the trees growing up straight into the sky despite the angle, Tecchou struggled. They made it look so effortless with the way their roots were anchored in the ground, but they were standing still and didn’t possess lungs that burnt like Tecchou’s. It was an unfair advantage.

Usually, he would have been able to cut this forest down with a single swing of his sword. Usually, he wouldn’t have struggled with a simple hill. Tecchou made a frustrated noise between gasps for air.

Beyond the forest was sunlight, that was where his goal could be found as well.

He stumbled up the last few metres, then he stood atop the hill. With his hands on his knees, he caught his breath before looking down.

It took him a moment to process what he was seeing. Then, his heart dropped.

A pit opened up before him.

A pit of nothing but exposed ground in different layers of grey, brown, and other earth tones, scrapped away from under the surface. Where a military base with training grounds and barracks had been, there was now—nothing. No brutalist buildings of threatening concrete reaching into the sky. No dark shadows adding to the grim environment. No paths where people ran laps and trained to shoot day in and day out.

Tecchou felt himself sink to his knees.

It should be there. And yet, it wasn’t.

He blinked a few times, thinking his mind or eyes were betraying him, but nothing changed.

His eyes wandered over what he could see. A hole in the ground—kilometres wide and long, covering a large area and stretching towards the horizon. It was a few hundred metres deep, all made out of exposed ground, gravel, and stone. Some heavy trucks stood around inside, a few of them loaded with the grey that the pit was made of.

By the edges of the hole stood extremely big machinery, unlike anything Tecchou had ever seen before. From his position, they looked small but compared to the trucks of which Tecchou knew the approximate size, those machines looked giant.

Nothing was in motion, though. The trucks lay there like pebbles, the excavators stood like skeletons of ancient giants. Tecchou didn’t know what had killed animals this big and abandoned them there to rot until all their flesh had fallen off. Their steel bones reflected the low sun.

The creatures had been left to become the very soil they had torn open.

To Tecchou’s knowledge, it was neither Sunday nor a holiday. So usually, people would be working, especially in a surface mine like he was looking at. Tecchou recognised areas like this, but only very faintly from a past interest due to hearing about them from people he’d met in the military in this country. He’d also seen a thing or two on the news due to controversies or scandals, but he couldn’t recall much beyond the name. He would’ve never guessed that he’d encounter one himself.

Squinting down, he found the place to look completely deserted, not only free of people for a day or two. Some of the trucks were beginning to rust and a few birds and other animals had made themselves a home on them. Had the mining been finished, this would’ve been turned into a place where new plants could grow, or perhaps an artificial lake. But none of that was visible here. The site had just been left like this, even though millions and millions of the local currency had flown into it.

Tecchou got up and slowly navigated his way down the hill. This side was just as steep as the other one but his boots could find fewer places to step on due to the lack of roots sticking out of the ground. Tecchou half-walked, half-slid down, then stumbled the last few metres until he stood on solid ground.

There was a tiny grass patch full of dust and rubble. Tecchou got to the end of it and looked down. Beneath his feet, the mining area began with a steep slope. Stretching around the pit, its edges formed giant terraces akin to those found in farming. So when Tecchou kicked a small rock into the mine, it rolled down and came to a stop on what looked like the next giant stair.

He carefully stepped over the edge. Leaning back and putting his hand on the ground to keep his balance, he slid down the first step. Since it hadn’t rained in a few days, his feet kicked off lots of dust that stung in his eyes, forcing him to squint and only peek through his eyelashes. Using his other arm to protect his mouth and nose from breathing in too much dirt, he struggled to keep his balance but he managed to land safely.

When the dust had settled again, Tecchou turned around and looked up at where he’d started. It was higher than he had expected when looking down—about five metres tall, but the way to the next terrace was even longer and higher. Although his heart was beating unreasonably fast, Tecchou got to work again.

It took him a while to get all the way to the bottom and when he finally came to a halt, he looked back once more. The tips of the trees were long gone from his vision, as they were some two hundred metres above him and quite far back due to the terraces.

Tecchou glanced down. His shoes and pants, as well as the parts of his coat that had been dragged across the ground, were all dusty. He tried to shake it off but it was impossible to get rid of everything.

After taking a few more minutes to recover his burning lungs and tired limbs, Tecchou began walking again.

The mine was quiet, just like it had looked from above. He still couldn’t hear any work going on, and all other sounds were either distant or gone completely. The sounds of the forest—branches being moved by light wind, and the stream—were all gone, and so were any last noises of cars and streets.

All Tecchou could hear were his own steps on the rubble. They were irregular and heavier than usual, caused by his legs hurting. He tried to ignore that as much as possible, but he had to take breaks from time to time to sit down and rest for a moment.

As he approached the first truck that was in his way, Tecchou frowned when he saw that the windows were broken. The giant black truck with an opened back for transporting large portions of rubble was heavily dented, which wasn’t unusual, but slivers of broken glass were still on the front seat when Tecchou climbed up to look in. They’d been broken from the outside.

As he stuck his head in, he found a few large rocks under the seats.

He frowned. Everything inside was dirty and clearly affected by weather. The fabric of the seats was torn open by what looked like animal claws, and colours were fading from rain coming in. There were no traces of blood, but it would probably have rotted away after all the time that had passed since spilling it.

Tecchou jumped down again and hissed when his feet met the ground while his knees gave in. He caught himself on the outside of the truck before he could fall, but the stinging pain in his legs was almost overwhelming.

He was forced to sit down. Pulling himself to the right, he leaned against the truck’s tire before tugging at the right leg of his pants. He peeled it up until it was just above his knee.

It looked normal. Compared to his arms, his legs had stayed largely free from burns, so Tecchou couldn’t tell from the outside that his body was falling apart. He rolled the fabric up a bit further to look at his thigh. That, too, looked normal. He flexed the muscle and clenched his jaw when it hurt.

So, he fixed his pants again and took off one half of his jacket. The burns on his right arm were healing slowly, leaving large patches of fresh skin on his bicep and around his elbow, then down his forearm. Besides the burns, his arms barely ached. The pain that stung through the muscles of his legs and made walking hard was barely present from his shoulders to his fingertips. There was a mild numbness and some discomfort, but nothing more.

Tecchou was glad about that. Even if his legs failed him, he would still be able to use his sword. His skill would be unaffected, so he could actually fight. It was possible, as well as his only purpose and goal.

He rolled his sleeve down again and pulled his jacket back on before standing up.

The huge excavator was the next thing he approached. It was a few hundred metres away, which looked way shorter than it actually was due to the even ground he was walking on as well as the sheer size of the machine.

Tecchou began to wonder what was being mined here—it could be coal or minerals, but he had no idea. However, if he wasn’t mistaken, there were more surface mining sites similar to this one scattered around here. The fact that they would remove an entire military base for it only mildly surprised him, as both were in the state’s interest.

Tecchou questioned if he would’ve learned about things like these in school. Maybe about how mining was done in Japan, instead of learning about it from soldiers who’d had to leave their homes due to precious resources being found beneath the ground they lived on.

He stopped for a moment. School had never come up back when he was with the military in Japan. Only once from Jouno, who’d tried going again after the war. For Tecchou, his school education had promptly stopped at eleven and he had been solely focused on becoming a soldier. Not many eleven-year-olds liked going to school, so he’d promptly forgotten about it.

The people around him hadn’t cared to teach him anything. They’d only wanted him for his strength in battle and his ability.

His lack of education bound him to the military and didn’t give him a chance to pursue any other careers except for this one.

Tecchou shuddered. He’d never thought about it that way. But with the doubt still growing in his mind, new ways of thinking were blooming.

He lingered on those for a second. Looking back, he wished one of his superiors would have insisted on proper education. Tecchou wasn’t stupid by any means, he had quite a good memory except for a few gaps, but his quick thinking and memorisation skills had saved him quite often.

However, he guessed that dogs weren’t allowed to have an education. They were taught to follow commands and had to obey their owner or else they would be put down. Dogs weren’t allowed to read because learning meant starting to ask questions. If a dog learned to speak, it needed to be silenced.

Thinking about it, the only people who had seen him as more than just a weapon since he’d been eleven were the other Hunting Dogs, Jouno and the Colo—Tecchou pressed his lips together. No.

Although he had admired that man, Tecchou had never been a human to him. He should realise that now. Or maybe he had done so a long time ago, but he was still denying it.

He rubbed his dirty hands over his face. His childish admiration, the fact that he’d received praise from that man and his mindless devotion to him had almost cost him and Jouno their lives so many times. It had ripped them apart, both mentally and physically, as well as apart from each other. Tecchou could not see a real human do this to a child. And it was about time he came to accept that, even if it was only after fifteen long years.

It was a weird feeling to watch his beliefs crumble. It had happened so often since the beginning of his journey that Tecchou thought he should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. This was probably something he could never become accustomed to.

Change was always hard. Change of circumstances, of living situations, and change of the own mind. People hated those who forcibly changed them.

Tecchou had embraced the changes the Colonel had brought, but he didn’t anymore.

It wouldn’t have been better to be buried underneath the rubble of his house along with his family, so in that way, the Colonel appearing in his life had been beneficial. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but imagine a world where he and Jouno fled the village together. A world where, eventually, Jouno and Tecchou healed. A world where he saw wrinkles around Jouno’s eyes as lasting signs of laughter and the years passing by. He imagined himself touching Jouno’s cheek—not in battle, but to trace his thumb over those lines.

That world was lost. And all that it contained was lost.

Tecchou continued walking, mourning a reality that couldn’t be.

When he finally reached the giant excavator, it turned out to be bigger than he’d thought. Tecchou had to lean his head back to be able to make out the top that was nearly touching the orange sky. It was a good one hundred metres tall and at least two hundred long. Massive, and covered in a crust of dirt from its many uses.

A word was engraved in the metal quite close to him. He couldn’t read it, as it was in German, but below that, it read ‘bucket wheel excavator’. It wasn’t like Tecchou cared for the name of the machine, but that knowledge might come in handy someday.

Tecchou shrugged at the rest of the sign and reached up with his arms to grab onto the top of the large wheel to pull himself up.

Climbing with his legs hurting was difficult. He kept taking short breaks to collect himself whenever the pain made him feel dizzy. He took a few ladders to get himself up higher, and then the real climbing began. Tecchou held onto metal bars not made for climbing or supporting a person’s weight. They were slippery and sometimes even sharp, cutting his hands open, but Tecchou didn’t care. To the top. He wanted to get all the way to the top.

Clenching his jaw, he pressed on, even when his legs began to shake.

He looked up and caught a glimpse of how far he still needed to climb. It was okay and doable, or at least he hoped so. He was staying carefully optimistic, although he was kind of forced to: a short look down told him that, in his current state, he might not survive a fall. Or, if he lived through the direct impact, he would probably succumb to his injuries. Tecchou thought he might also die from his body corroding as he lay down there, unable to move from broken legs. There were so many possibilities that it made him sick. So, he only allowed himself to think of a positive outcome.

His hand got a good grip on a wire and he finally pulled himself up the last few metres. He swung his leg over a metal bar so he could securely sit on the highest part of the excavator with his hands holding on tightly.

His chest rose and fell with heavy, exhausted breaths, but he felt a sense of pride like he hadn’t experienced in a long time. For his current condition, this was great. He was still alive, and that was good.

Up here, the wind was a bit more than just a breeze, blowing his hair out of his face. Tecchou let his eyes wander over everything he could see. The pit, which still wasn’t all that interesting, the forest behind him. He was on about the same level, if not a bit higher than the roots of the trees.

But looking forward, he could now see an end to the mine and a field beginning. The grass moved like waves in the wind, making it look fluid and soft in the setting sun. Golden light danced atop of the waves, and the few drops of water that had survived the lack of rain glistened like liquid treasure.

Tecchou’s face felt nicely warm and when he looked down at his hands, he saw them glow orange from the light.

He loosened his almost painfully tight grip on his seating and applied more pressure with his legs so he wouldn’t fall off.

He spread his arms. At first slowly. Then, when he was more confident that he wouldn’t fall, he spread them faster until they pointed to either side of his body, as far out as possible.

Tecchou puffed out his chest and took a deep breath, then screamed it out.

It was long and loud, made his vocal folds hurt. He used every last bit of pent-up anger, frustration, hurt, and confusion that he’d been feeling. A desperate attempt to rid himself of all of these with his eyes squeezed shut. He screamed into the sunset where nobody could hear him.

For once, he felt alone. Despite physically being alone throughout his journey, he’d never truly felt that way. The ghost of his former friend had always felt close even though Tecchou couldn’t physically hold onto him. But Jouno wasn’t here. He wasn’t present to hear Tecchou scream out all of the things he felt for and because of him.

There was great comfort in the loneliness that was the only thing listening to him scream.

It echoed through the valley and back to him, and he kept screaming until every last bit of that breath was gone from his lungs.

When he inhaled once more he felt dizzy and quickly grabbed onto the excavator in order not to fall. His breaths were quick and it took him longer than usual to recover.

A feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a while had been woken up by his screams and it was flooding his mind.

There was a smile on his face. One only for him. For he was alive, and the world and nature around him lived, even when humans were a parasite that tried to push it away, or even destroyed it. Nature would eventually return and it was beautiful and he loved it. And Tecchou loved being alive. And he loved the people around him who had shown him kindness and humanity, and he was thankful for them.

This evening, Tecchou felt hopeful. Nature prevailed. He prevailed. He would go home to Teruko, Sigma, and Tachihara and live on. It would take them a while to adjust, but then they would start to joke about his adventures abroad.

In all of this, he ignored Jouno. He had to. Because there was no way he could feel hopeful when he had to end Jouno’s life. But like nature, he would recover from that, he told himself.

Tecchou felt ecstatic, exhilarated. He threw his head back with a laugh, but no sound would come out. But he kept laughing until he was breathless again, became dizzy.

Maybe he didn’t need anyone! Maybe he could live on his own. He didn’t need Jouno or anyone else. He should kill them all, free himself. As planned, he would start with Jouno, then the Commander. The other Hunting Dogs in the order of Sigma first, then Teruko, and lastly Tachihara.

Killing Fukuchi would be hard but if he succeeded and took his sword, then he would be unstoppable. That’s what he would use to kill Sigma and Teruko. It would start as a sparring match but he’d turn it into a bloodbath. He’d kill Sigma first to see the terror on Teruko’s face—before he killed her as well.

Tachihara could control metal. Even though Fukuchi’s sword was presumably a lot more powerful than that, Tecchou’s safest bet was hand-to-hand combat, which he’d definitely win. He’d close his hands around Tachihara’s neck and squeeze it shut. Slowly restricting his airflow and making him panic. He’d force Tachihara to look into the eyes of the man he’d grown to view as a comrade, a friend, a brother.

He’d cut up their bodies like he’d seen Jouno and Gogol do, paint the walls red.

Tecchou laughed until he had tears in his eyes but none of them fell due to his joy. His mind became dazed again while his thoughts were a mess, but he didn’t care. It felt good. Freeing. He had found an easily pursuable solution to all of his problems. Yes, this was the one true way to go about this.

He looked at the horizon as the sun set behind the field, body still shaken by sudden bursts of laughter from time to time. He watched the beauty of the field go up in flames, then go out. He stared without blinking until his eyes were burning.

Like a turning of tides, Tecchou’s mood shifted as soon as the last bits of orange and gold vanished from the horizon. The moment he felt the coldness on his skin, his smile faded. He deflated completely and he was left feeling empty. So empty that it ached.

It was perplexing—the sudden switch didn’t make any sense, it confused him. Tecchou hugged himself, wanted to curl up and make himself as small as possible, but he couldn’t.

His mind was scrambled… Suddenly, that mess didn’t make him feel amazing and exhilarated anymore. It was scary. The way his emotions and thoughts were mixing with things he would usually never think or feel was wrong. Positive thoughts turning into intrusions. His body shook in repulsion of himself.

The thoughts and plans to kill those dearest to him had been so vivid. They still were. They played over and over again in his mind, even when he almost screamed for them to stop. His fingernails dug into his arms and into the wounds there, making him squirm but he didn’t listen to his body’s pain.

Mentally, he apologised to Teruko. Then to Sigma and Tachihara. He apologised to the Commander… As for Jouno—he’d apologise when the time was right. To his face, coming clean about his sins. Before taking his friend’s life, almost in mercy for bearing Tecchou’s sins for so long.

It wouldn’t bring back those who’d been killed by Jouno. It wouldn’t clear Tecchou’s conscience. It would make him feel even more guilty, as apologising to Jouno and then killing him was a contradiction. But he needed to bury this man, both figuratively and literally. He couldn’t allow him to hurt anyone else and as long as Jouno lived, Tecchou would continue to be irrational. If he ever wanted to find his way back to justice, Jouno needed to die.

He wondered just how much Jouno loved his pain—if he loved it as much as he’d loved Tecchou himself. Tecchou wanted to hate him for all of this, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Jouno was like a parasite in his mind. And yet, he needed him.

There was a pause in Tecchou’s line of thinking. Parasite. He looked down at his legs, shaking from tensing to keep him in place for so long. Then he opened his hands and glanced at his palms. He could see the marks from grabbing the metal and some light cuts, as well as the burn scars starting on his wrists.

Tecchou swallowed. This was it.

He needed a secure space for this.

Suddenly, he was on the ground. Running.

Tecchou couldn’t remember how he’d gotten down from the excavator and since nothing felt broken, he assumed he hadn’t fallen. Without stopping, he turned his head around and saw it about a hundred metres behind him. The iron skeleton still didn’t move, even though the clouds passing by in the background almost made it look like it did. He turned away again.

Tecchou had no clue where he was running or how much time had passed.

Above him, the sky turned from a lighter blue to a fully dark one and the rest of the orange and yellow traces disappeared from the horizon. So probably about fifteen minutes. The sun was always quick to set, even when days seemed to drag on for ages. The fast turn from day to night fuelled his urgency.

Tecchou didn’t slow down. He let that part of him that was determined to go somewhere lead.

Out of the pit. Tecchou stumbled when he came to again and almost fell on the rubble he was fighting to climb. He’d gotten far already but at this point, it was almost completely dark around him and he didn’t want to waste his lighter’s fuel. He’d need that in a bit but couldn’t remember what for.

When he climbed out of the mine, he found himself in the field he’d seen earlier. It still looked like waves in a breeze, but with the wind picking up and the darkness of the night, the ocean seemed threatening. Tecchou wanted to get out of it lest the water swallowed him, so he sped up.

Looking ahead, he spotted what had probably made him run in the first place: lights. Beyond the field, he could see them as small, smudged dots on a dark blue canvas. And where lights were, he could find people and safety, as well as the tools he needed.

Tecchou ran and his lungs felt like they were on fire. His right leg started going numb, forcing him to limp but he pressed on.

The pain inside of him spiked like someone had shot him straight in the chest. It brought a coughing fit that suddenly shook his body. Tecchou fell to his knees while covering his mouth. He coughed so hard he was afraid his lungs would turn inside out and slip past his teeth. It almost made him sink to the floor completely but he held himself up with his other hand. It closed around a bundle of grass to keep the world from spiralling out of control around him.

The coughs shook and shook him until he thought his throat started bleeding. The strength of them nearly made him gag but Tecchou couldn’t stop. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and wait until it was over.

Like an earthquake, it stopped as suddenly as it had come. A few coughs followed still, but nothing like what had forced him to the ground. Nevertheless, Tecchou had to stay where he was. He had to sit on his knees for a few minutes and wiped his hands clean on his pants before making himself walk further towards the lights.

He had to get there, or else he was sure this would be the end of him.

Tecchou didn’t allow himself to run anymore, though. Evidently, that had been too much for his body and he didn’t want to break it any further when he was so, so close to possible salvation.

The lights approached slower now, but they continued to grow until he’d almost reached them.

His blurry vision began making out shapes, mostly rectangular ones. Windows. When there were lights in windows, people were there as well.

Soon, he recognised triangles as roofs, and bigger rectangles as houses. Only about a hundred metres to go.

Tecchou came to a stop and squinted, cocking his head to the side.

Something blocked his way into the small town. Barriers in the form of cement blocks or mesh fences had been constructed, marking a clear border between him and his goal. They were red and white but had been spray painted over with colourful graffiti. What stood out to Tecchou were hand-written signs as though they had been taken to a protest. They were screwed or zip-tied to the barriers but Tecchou couldn’t read what they were saying.

He wondered if the fences were meant to keep people out—and, if that was the case, what kinds of people.

Tecchou looked up and froze when his eyes had to adjust again.

The town lay in complete darkness now.

He could still see the houses, those hadn’t disappeared. But the lights had. No windows were illuminated by warm overhead lamps anymore.

It would be understandable if one or two windows had gone dark, but he had seen so many earlier. Tecchou swallowed thickly. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then looked back. Nothing.

Finally, he forced his legs to move. No matter if there were people or not, he would still enter the town.

Beginning to walk past the barriers to his left, he quickly noticed that they wouldn’t end in that direction. Considering they also extended into the other one, Tecchou assumed that the fence encased the community. So, he simply slipped through a gap.

Everything was dark since the barrier hadn’t magically allowed him to see the lights again. Not even the street lamps were on. No sound could be heard from the houses or roads.

Due to the lack of light, Tecchou could barely even see his feet but he was sure the asphalt he was walking on was dirty. He kicked a bit of rubble and stumbled over other small obstacles a couple of times. There were holes in the surface and it almost felt like his hometown after the fights had broken out.

Back then, Tecchou had often found himself having to wander around in the dark, not knowing if his enemies had set up any traps. He could stumble over a landmine or be shot, just like that. Small explosions could form holes in the streets that weren’t deadly themselves, but a twisted ankle might’ve led to his demise.

Tecchou forced himself to shake these memories off, though. This was a simple town, not a warzone.

In addition to all of that, the lack of any sign of humans was worrying him. With every lonely step he took, Tecchou became more and more convinced that he’d only imagined those lights earlier, and that this night would be the beginning of his end, that these abandoned streets would be his grave.

He hadn’t given up though, not just yet. He continued walking to the best of his abilities, into the town where nobody else seemed to be.

Houses were without electricity, which Tecchou noticed when he rang a few doorbells and no sound could be heard after the press of the button. This strengthened the growing suspicion that his mind had been playing tricks on him. He decided to knock on a few windows and doors, to no avail.

It was getting cold. Despite dusk having warmed him earlier, the lack of any sunlight was rather cool. Tecchou was sure that, if he had a light source, he would’ve seen his breath in the air.

Not being able to choose between putting his hands into his pockets to keep them from freezing, and hugging himself to warm his torso at the expense of cold hands, he alternated between the two as he tried to figure out what to do. He had an objective, which was to find shelter and, with a bit of luck, some specific tools.

The houses around were small, fit for a family each. Tecchou wasn’t able to recognise any details but he was sure that life here had been slow and comfortable, far away from loud and busy cities. Although he could very well imagine the surface mining being very noisy.

Finding shelter would be easy, but Tecchou didn’t exactly want to break into any of these houses here. He had no clue if this area was truly abandoned or not. If it was and the police found him, he’d be in trouble. On the other hand, if things went south, he’d need someone to save his life. Tecchou sighed. Nothing was ideal, so he’d make the best out of what he had.

Roads became smaller and he found himself in what he assumed to be the centre of the town with a shopping district. He could make out the sign of a bakery to the right and a small supermarket next to it. To his left were a few shops formerly for clothes, judging by the mannequins Tecchou’d mistaken for real human corpses in a moment of horror.

Everything looked dead. The houses were dead, the streets were dead. It was all that specific kind of quiet—the one where there was no noise, of course, but on top of that, it was pressing down on his ears. The kind of quiet that he’d only experienced as the lone survivor on a battlefield. When smoke completely blocked the sun, the only sources of light were dying flames and sparks flying where he stepped. The silence after an explosion that ripped his comrades into pieces.

But here, nothing was damaged. The only thing showing any imperfections were the streets. He tripped over quite a few potholes and more rubble around here.

Once again, he was reminded of his home on the day after the attacks had started. When he’d led Jouno down to the middle of town by his hand, holding onto him tightly. The last person he’d had left in that world, and whom he hadn’t wanted to lose as well. That was where the Colonel had found them.

Tecchou swallowed the bitter-sweet memory.

Unlike his town, this place wasn’t destroyed. So, he kept wandering around.

It took him a while, but he reached a tall and unusual building, standing out from the rest of what he’d seen. In the little light the now rising moon provided, Tecchou made out its rather bland, white shape. A school? He squinted to find any identifying features until he discovered a sign by the broad driveway.

He mumbled to himself as he tried to read it. “K- Kura…? Krank-…” He cocked his head to the side before it hit him.

Immediately, his legs started carrying him faster despite the threat of another coughing fit building up in his lungs, until he reached the entrance. To his surprise, the door opened smoothly when he pushed, no locks to be found.

The hospital was smaller from the inside than most he had been to, but that was normal for a town of this size. It surprised him that they had one at all.

The entrance area was completely dark without the moonlight, so Tecchou touched one wall and dragged himself alongside it to find his way around. He knew that this was most likely a very bad idea. There was no way it was healthy to stay in an abandoned hospital, as it was most likely a safety hazard. But it would have what he needed—so he’d bite through it.

He wandered by the wall for a while, both in order not to run into anything or walk in circles, and to hold himself up as he felt he could collapse any second now. He turned around some corners and walked down a few hallways, but actively avoided any stairs. The emergency room, which was his current goal, had to be somewhere down on the ground floor where he was.

Tecchou seemingly skipped through time and space again. Because suddenly, he stood in front of a double-winged metal door with only two small windows that allowed him to peek in. There was a sign above it that he assumed would glow under normal circumstances. Since it was dark and his German wasn’t proficient enough, he had no idea what the sign read, but he pushed the doors open anyway. He had nothing to lose—not at this point in time.

Walking by the wall again and leaning against it with most of his weight, Tecchou felt the light switch brush past his arm.

It clicked.

And Tecchou’s heart almost stopped when the lamps above him actually turned on with an awful electric buzzing.

He had to close his eyes for a moment when they hurt from the sudden light, but he forced them to open again soon after. Still squinting, he looked around the room.

It was clearly a space for medical procedures although Tecchou had no idea what it would be used for specifically. If it really was an emergency room would remain a question he couldn’t answer for himself but he didn’t care, as he assumed the tools he needed to be there.

He let go of the wall and limped over to the cupboards where he saw materials he was unfamiliar with neatly stacked on shelves. He opened a cupboard and a few drawers.

Suddenly, he sat on the operating table. Next to him on a metal tray were a needle and surgical thread, a bottle with antiseptic liquid, bandages and the like. And besides that lay his knife and his lighter. His sheathed sword, along with his coat, was on the floor.

Anxiety started pumping through his veins when he saw just how much of the medication that he’d been carrying had disappeared in the past minute or two in which his memory cut out. He could only see the aftermath: mostly empty packaging. But he couldn’t change that now. The painkillers would never be enough for what he was going to do, but he couldn’t exactly be unconscious either.

With shaking hands, Tecchou peeled off his t-shirt. He put it next to him on the table, as he would need it in a bit. He then unbuckled his belt to keep it close as well. His shoes and pants had to go and were tossed on the floor carelessly, leaving him only in underwear. It was cold and he shivered, but he was sure this trivial fact wouldn’t matter anymore in a few minutes. Because he would either take or save his own life.

Tecchou looked down at his body. His scars were obvious in this awfully bright and cold light, but it made his focus fall on his burns.

Thinking back to the aftermath of his reunion with Jouno helped him piece some things together: he clearly remembered what Teruko’d said about the doctors being glad he didn’t burn his body too much during the explosion. He remembered all the times he’d needed surgeries after getting burned because his body had suddenly felt weaker.

After suffering his injuries in Russia, he’d found his mind rejecting them as a part of him. They’d felt foreign. But he only now made sense of that.

Before, his brain had never made the connection between fire and the weakness in that sense. It was obvious that suffering those kinds of injuries would weaken him, as it did with all humans. But it had a different cause.

Every parasite had to die. And his would die in fire.

Tecchou took his belt and strapped it around the top of his thigh. He pulled as tightly as he could to prevent too much bleeding in case he lost his leg—which was very likely in his mind. Nevertheless, he was surprisingly calm about that.

Sure, there was a high amount of anxiety in his veins right now. But other people were able to do the same. He’d watched fellow soldiers do similar things to themselves. In every case, the men had been screaming and crying, and sometimes someone else had to do it for them in the end. Tecchou himself had had to cut off poisoned limbs and infections that were crawling up someone’s arm or leg. Almost completely unusable hands and feet had to be severed by him.

In those situations as well as now, Tecchou’s thoughts felt clear. A small part of his brain told him they weren’t—that he was losing his mind. He chose not to believe that part. He wouldn’t let the increasing fear cloud his mind and instead continued with what he was doing.

Tecchou grabbed the knife and flipped open the lighter. The flame was stable due to the lack of any wind as well as Tecchou holding his breath. It only flickered when he moved it under the sharp end of his knife.

At first, he held it in one place, but then he began moving it back and forth evenly to get all of the blade hot. Special attention was paid to the area leading up to its tip.

His hand started to shake, and that undeniably came from the nerves. He felt cold and exposed—this was how his body would be found weeks, months, or even years later. It would not be a pretty sight, Tecchou was sure of that.

He hadn’t fully accepted his death, however. He wasn’t done, not just yet. This was his final plan, the final fight against time and his own body.

When he deemed the knife to be hot enough, he removed the flame and flipped the lighter shut to put it down. He grabbed his t-shirt again and stuffed it in his mouth. It smelled and tasted awful, although he was sure he’d be thankful for it in a moment.

He lowered the knife to his thigh until he could feel the heat it radiated on his bare skin. It made the hairs on his body stand up and his muscles cramped, almost painfully so, despite him not doing anything yet.

Tecchou closed his eyes for a second in which he hoped that he’d lose time again and wake up after it was all done, but his brain didn’t do him any favours this time.

His eyes opened and he fixated them on a ceiling for a moment, looking at anything but the knife. Anything but that. His breathing picked up in fear, but he tried to use that to his advantage like he’d learned all those years ago. He turned the erratic breaths into something with a purpose, to make himself a bit more lightheaded.

His lungs filled with air. Once, twice, then a determined gaze turned to his leg. He lowered his hands that grabbed the knife with white knuckles and let it cut into his skin above the knee.

Immediately, his jaw clenched against the fabric in his mouth and as soon as he let the knife dig deeper, the t-shirt caught his anguished grunts that quickly turned into screams.

Sweat formed on his forehead as he watched the knife part his skin. It was sharp enough to cleanly glide through it instead of ripping it apart but it was painful nevertheless.

Despite the belt, blood immediately spilled out of the wound and ran down his leg. The fact that the knife was hot helped against too much blood being lost, as well as making the pain milder when it burned the ends of his veins and nerves. But it was still an excruciating feeling that made its way up from just above his knee and halfway over his thigh.

Tecchou was cutting the way where he assumed the maintenance surgeries to be done as well. Occasionally, he’d seen healing stitches along this line, but not too often. The surgeries barely left any traces or scars, and that made Tecchou’s job much harder right now.

He tried to force the muscle of his leg to relax for some relief, but it was seemingly impossible, so he temporarily lifted his knife out of the wound. His hair, now wet, stuck to his face and his vision was a bit blurry, but he didn’t think he was in danger of dropping dead any second. That was good.

He wiped his forehead with his arm when sweat ran down into his eyebrows and threatened to drop into his eyes, then he cleaned the knife on some of the fabric hanging from his teeth.

Grabbing the lighter again, he warmed the blade once more.

The idea behind all of this was simple: the enhancing surgery—whatever it may be—was a parasite or something akin to that destroying his body after a certain amount of time. Chances were it was ability-based and had been modified, but that didn’t really matter. Fact was that extreme heat, unnatural to the body, destroyed this parasite that had been planted within him. That was why his arms felt fine while his legs didn’t. That was why people had told him it was good he hadn’t been burnt after the plane crash.

Still, there was a part of him that doubted himself. Maybe he was completely losing his mind now. That was a very high possibility. But Tecchou wouldn’t stop now. He would die either way: if he didn’t do this, he would succumb to his body’s corrosion. If he did this and it killed him, then that was on him.

Tecchou had never questioned any of the surgeries or anything anyone’d said to him about them, as they’d been too important for him to doubt. Fire was an unfortunate weakness to have when one was in the military and close to explosions and fires quite often. But that way, it was also a weakness easy to hide.

He felt even more insane with that assumption.

Tecchou put the lighter down again and used his now free left hand to pull his wound apart with two fingers. He watched the red flesh part with a disgusted face before he slid the knife back into it.

For the last five centimetres, he deepened the cut a little. A scream escaped his sore throat, muffled before it could fully escape his mouth. He breathed heavily through his nose before putting his second hand on the knife as well to force it further and further.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment when he felt tears forming and he was afraid they might obstruct his vision.

Four more centimetres, then three, then two and one. As Tecchou pulled the knife out, it almost slipped from his fingers when he let his body relax. His back hit the operation table with a loud thud and his chest rose and fell quickly.

Tecchou stared at the ceiling to let himself recover and unfocused his eyes. His entire body felt exhausted from the procedure and flexing every last muscle in his body for so long. And then the agonising pain… He’d have to do it again so many times.

“Uh!” what was supposed to be a swear only came out as a single open-mouthed sound into the t-shirt. Tecchou’d never been one to swear much but the situation he was in seemed appropriate.

Not wanting to waste too much time, he forced himself to sit up. He grabbed a needle and surgical thread. Although he hesitated at first, Tecchou decided to go with the antiseptic as well. Avoiding the pain now and risking an infection would be much, much worse and even more intense in the long run.

With one hand, he pinched the two ends of his skin together. Blood was squeezed out and trickled down his leg, thinned by the antiseptic that Tecchou poured over it. He shut his eyes and let his head fall back at the stinging feeling, but he bit through it.

He grabbed the needle and began stitching the wound.

It was hard with his shaking hand and the needle slipped a few times, leaving some scratches. Every time it entered his skin, Tecchou felt the pain travel up his leg and entire body to his head. It all hurt. But he had to keep going.

This procedure wasn’t as painful as cutting open his leg in the first place, but he still had a few screams escape him.

After closing the entire wound, Tecchou plastered it in band-aids and bandages to keep away any friction from clothing, or anything else that could possibly damage it.

He put the needle down and stared at his leg. A bit of blood collected under the bandages and turned them red, but it was nothing major. He definitely wasn’t bleeding out.

Tecchou moved his thigh and flexed his muscles. The incredible pain was still there, now in combination with the wound, making for an awful mix. He had no idea if what he was doing even worked. Maybe it was just him losing his mind and he followed delusions that weren’t true while he cut himself to pieces. It was possible, but there was no going back now.

He didn’t know how deeply he’d have to cut his flesh. Under the assumption that his hypothesis was true, he was unsure if simply burning his skin was enough—or if his cuts were enough. On his arms, pieces of hot metal and debris had stabbed into his flesh, and since his arms were mostly fine, he figured that the rest of his body would be the same.

Or maybe he was drawing completely false conclusions. His line of thinking might not add up, he might have misinterpreted things. But while he was thinking about that, his hands released the belt around his thigh and moved it down, where he fastened it beneath his knee.

He used his hands to bring his leg into a good position before he warmed up the knife all over again. It took a few minutes, then he gently let the blade cut through his skin once more. He dragged it across the inner side of his calf, faster this time to get it over with. He didn’t dare to stop his pace, not when he was scared he might pass out from the pain, and not when a bit more blood than expected spilled on his fingers. Instead, Tecchou let his knife dig even deeper. His vision blurred and everything went numb for a moment. However, he caught himself again before anything could happen and continued like normal.

After finishing the cut, Tecchou was out of breath. His throat hurt although he hadn’t heard himself scream, so he must’ve lost his voice somewhere along the way.

He leaned his head back for a moment and let his body calm down.

Putting away the knife, Tecchou didn’t immediately grab needle and thread to stitch it. Instead, he stared at the wound.

He let his fingers carefully trace the skin about a centimetre away from it. The touch was light and almost tickled on the undamaged parts of his skin. This way, he went up the wound to the place where he’d cut the deepest.

He put his thumb on the opposite side of his index finger and pulled the skin apart. It was hard to tell how deep the wound was between blood and burnt flesh, so he pulled a bit further. When his head was blocking some of the light, he tried to look at it from different angles but he still saw nothing. Only flesh, blood, and some burnt spots.

Tecchou didn’t even know what exactly he was looking for. It wasn’t like bug-sized creatures would be crawling through his veins and organs and, with his theory, the heat would be destroying them anyway.

Nevertheless, Tecchou lifted his other hand. Without giving it a second thought, he dug his fingers exactly into the wound.

It was disgustingly warm and an awful squelching sound made him shiver.

The pads of his fingers burned horribly in the open wound and they ripped it open even more when he moved them around. His breathing picked up and it was hard to stop his limbs from shaking, which made his lack of results more disappointing. There was nothing unusual to be found here. So, he moved down his leg. He repositioned his fingers to hold open the cut, and the fingers within followed.

His flesh was squishy and it made Tecchou’s stomach turn to dig around like that. He’d dug bullets out of his own arms but this felt different. Repulsive, in a way. A mental blockage that told him to stop, in addition to his pain tolerance dropping due to that damn parasite eating at him.

He bit down on his t-shirt until his jaw ached and trembled. Afraid his teeth might break, he forced himself to take full, deep breaths and relax the muscles he didn’t need right now.

That’s when he stopped dead in his tracks. He’d dug deeper than the initial cut and thus tore his flesh apart. And that was where he found something strange.

It was thinner than a single one of his hairs but he managed to pinch it between his thumb and index finger. Then, he pulled it out.

There was a stinging pain and a strange, dragging sensation from further in his flesh and muscle where the knife hadn’t reached. Then, he had a piece of fibre in his hand, about the same length as his palm. Blood dripped from it when Tecchou lifted it close to his face to get a good look at it.

When the air that escaped through his nose brushed past it, the fibre moved, lighter than hair. It looked almost unnatural or even alien. There was no way for him to know what it was, so he took the lighter with bloodied fingers and switched it on.

He held it to the strange fibre and, despite the blood, it immediately caught on fire.

The flame travelled up so fast that Tecchou let go in shock and watched it fall to the operation table, where it burned up like a fuse.

Much to his horror, it seemed to move on its own. Wringing like when someone was using a magnifying glass to burn a worm alive.

Tecchou was horrified. Even after the fibre had disappeared without so much as leaving a trace that would hint at his existence, he kept staring. This was truly unlike anything he’d seen before, and something that was beyond what he had thought to exist.

He’d found his parasite.

Almost impatiently, Tecchou stitched up his left leg and moved on to his right calf where he repeated the process. Between calf and thigh, he had to swallow several painkillers again although this time, they made his entire body feel fuzzy as nausea rose in his stomach. He tried to swallow any traces of that feeling but it was hard.

Then, an aching pain started to travel up from his legs to his torso. It came in waves and Tecchou wondered if whatever else resided in his body was moving upwards. He wondered if it could think and noticed that he was actively destroying it, and it wanted to save itself—or if it was a pure, mindless instinct to move. There was no doubt in his mind, however, that the pain came from the fibres moving.

He thought about what he’d learned about parasites but not much had stuck with him from school biology. And something as weird as this wouldn’t be in any textbooks for children anyway.

The anxiety that it was making its way to his vital organs made him sweat buckets, though. Tecchou wiped his hands on his t-shirt and increased his pace.

The knife was deep in his thigh and halfway done, when Tecchou noticed a weird yet familiar feeling in his mouth. He had to grab the t-shirt from his teeth to vomit on the floor. His entire body shook with the motion and his stomach stung. His abdominal muscles contracted with every wave that overcame him, painfully so. It took his body a few tries to empty his stomach until he was sitting on the operation table with a mix of stomach acid and spit running down his chin.

He didn’t move to wipe it off. He couldn’t. His hand dropped the knife to the table that he then held onto instead to steady himself.

His eyes widened. On the floor, he stared at the worms and maggots mingling amongst what used to be the contents of his stomach consisting of mostly pills. None of them looked in any way digested and had been thriving in his intestines all this time until he threw them up.

The worms moved slowly, unlike the parasite, but they were still wringing on the floor as they tried to regain orientation. They came in knots of two or three, or as single worms, whereas the maggots with their smaller bodies only came alone.

The sight almost made Tecchou vomit again but when his mouth fell open automatically and his stomach cramped painfully to make him throw up, nothing would come out except for an empty, pained sound from his damaged throat.

Hot tears reached his cheeks but he still wouldn’t look away.

He was dying. His body was being eaten inside out by vermin. His trachea and oesophagus were full of holes. He had bugs in his liver and soon, rats would make a home in his lungs. There was an urge to cut open his chest and break apart his rips to shoo them out. Tecchou wondered what kinds of animals lived in his brain.

This should kill him fast. He gave himself a few hours at most until his heart stopped beating. The rats would live off his cold blood, maybe the worms and maggots would return to his body to feast.

In a way, this was sad—they all would die when he was gone completely. His death would not bring new life for long, as his body would only last them so many days. He hoped for their short lives to be beautiful, though. Because offering a beautiful life to these creatures was something worth dying for.

Tecchou’s lips curled into a smile, which squeezed a few more tears out of his eyes.

The mix of spit and vomit tickled on his chin, then a drop fell. It landed on naked floor and the sudden dripping noise caused by it sounded like an explosion to Tecchou. His entire body twitched violently and he sucked in a sharp breath, blinking at the shock.

When he recovered from the initial scare, his heart picked up again. Because something was missing.

Looking down, the worms and maggots had all disappeared into thin air. He looked around and searched the floor with his eyes, but besides his vomit, nothing was left.

His mouth formed a confused question but no sound would come out. He turned his body to look to the other side of the room when he stopped dead in his tracks.

There had never been any vermin in the first place.

Tecchou exhaled sharply and grabbed the knife again, pointing it at his right eye.

The parasites had infested them, they were making him see things that weren’t there. If he stabbed his eyes out, they couldn’t get to them anymore.

However—that was probably what the parasites wanted. If Tecchou lost his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to do much else anymore and wouldn’t threaten them further. He put his knife down. Did they want to keep him alive or kill him? Tecchou didn’t know what their end goal was, or if they had one in the first place. He didn’t know if they could think, or if it was instinct.

He came to the conclusion that they did want to kill him, albeit at their own pace. If Tecchou killed himself, they wouldn’t be able to keep his body for long. Their killing of him was solely a byproduct of their survival. Maybe they would emerge from his corpse as something more than fibre.

There probably wasn’t anything wrong with his eyes either. It was his brain that they had infested. Maybe it was smarter to start from the top to restrict the parasites’ way up to his brain?

He abandoned his thigh and moved the headrest of the operating table into a position where he could lean against it in a half-sitting position. It flattened out his stomach and torso, making those easier to access, and it was in general more comfortable to lean against something.

He heated up the knife again. There was a chance they’d flee into his arms rather than back into his damaged legs, which was fine by him. That was something he could deal with.

Tecchou spit the awful taste of vomit onto the floor, then took the t-shirt between his teeth again. For once, he preferred the taste of old and dirty clothing over what he’d had before.

Leaning back, the fuzzy feeling returned. He thought he’d vomited it out alongside the half-digested pills, but that seemingly wasn’t the case. It was good, though. He was quite thankful for the return of the mild numbness in his limbs and mind.

After closing the lighter again, Tecchou took a few deep breaths.

He wouldn’t die. He didn’t want to die. Not right now, at least. He would live. Even if that meant stabbing every single organ in his body with a flaming hot knife, or dumping himself in kerosine and igniting it. Tecchou would do anything to live right now. After this, he could die—he deserved that for indirectly bringing death to so many innocent people and for abandoning justice.

But that would be something to worry about after he’d killed Jouno. And that would only be possible with a body that was alive.

Tecchou took the knife to his left hip. He planned a straight route from there over his stomach to his ribs on the right. It had to be done fast, and he needed to be careful not to cut too deep. He only wanted to get skin and flesh out of the way, then he’d worry about what to do with the organs inside.

Tecchou stabbed the tip of the knife in, then squeezed his eyes shut before he dragged it across his body.

Chapter Text

“So,” Tachihara mumbled with his mouth full of ramen. A single noodle stuck out from between his lips but he pulled it in with a skilled slurp. “Have you heard from Tecchou?”

He was addressing the elephant in the room. Usually, Tachihara visiting for the night before his upcoming surgery was their highlight every other month: the Hunting Dogs would spend time together as a full group for once (if they got lucky and nobody else was on a mission). Training, sparring, playing board games or watching a movie or two, and getting food together were things they’d indulge in then.

But it was different this time. Without Tecchou and nobody knowing where he’d disappeared to, their common area felt vacant.

The spot next to Sigma on the couch looked strange, and Teruko caught herself looking at it thinking Tecchou would come around the corner with a soda any second. In pyjama pants and a casual t-shirt that was too big, even for him, while looking a bit sleepy already. But then she had to remind herself that this wouldn’t happen. Probably never again.

Sigma shook his head with a sigh.
“I haven’t,” he admitted. “We saw each other on the night he left and said goodbye. That’s the last time I saw him or heard from him. He didn’t even tell me where he went.”

“I saw him the morning after,” Tachihara noted. “He asked the Black Lizard to get him over to China, so we did. I didn’t get the chance to properly say goodbye, though.” He swallowed, clearly upset about that. “I wish I could’ve said something to him.”

“Would you have joined him?” Sigma asked suddenly with his head tilted to the side. Teruko held her breath for a second. The urge to remind them that what Tecchou did was not only dangerous but also highly against any of their contracts was strong. If the wrong person overheard them, they could get in serious trouble. Luckily, Tachihara seemed to be aware of that, or he just didn’t want to answer the question.

“I don’t know, man…” He shrugged.

Then, both men turned to face Teruko, clearly expecting her to share her last encounter with Tecchou as well.

Their two final interactions in person had been vastly different from the others. She remembered Tecchou on that hospital bed. With his eyebrows knitted together in what she couldn’t identify: it had been a mix between anger directed at her and himself, desperation, and deep hurt.

Teruko’d never seen him in so much pain before. Well, physical pain yes, Tecchou’d never been afraid of that and he’d shown it when it became more extreme and difficult for him to bear. But the emotional pain had been something new.

She could have guessed that Tecchou carried some kind of baggage with him. His eyes were often vacant, she’d heard him wake up from a nightmare or two, and she was aware of some sleepless nights. Sometimes, he spaced out. Life as a soldier was rough, so she’d assumed it to be that.

She could have guessed from the way he didn’t share anything about his past. However, even if at least parts of it had been normal and fine, he wouldn’t have talked about those either to protect his loved ones. So, for the most part, she’d thought that to be the reason.

Sometimes, she’d considered it a mutual understanding: if she didn’t talk about her past, he wouldn’t talk about his. But maybe Tecchou couldn’t have talked about it. Ever. Not when he’d looked at her like that when just a fraction of it had come back.

Teruko’d always had a hunch because it was so obvious, and yet she’d denied the reality right in front of her. No normal person would act the way Tecchou did. They wouldn’t willingly destroy their bodies for ‘justice’, they wouldn’t talk, move, or live as he did.

Teruko had known that there was baggage, but at that moment at the hospital, a child’s pair of eyes had looked at her. A child that had seen things unimaginable to most adults, and a child whose hand Teruko wanted to take. But she didn’t have anywhere to lead him to. Because Tecchou’s past—his friend—was tugging at the other one. So, she’d let go of that child.

Whenever Teruko thought back, big eyes stared at her. Dark, unsure, and hurt. But for the first time, a bit more alive. He’d been close to tears and Teruko didn’t think Tecchou had realised that himself.

There was nothing she could do for him now but her heart ached for that child. And it also ached for the adult Tecchou.

She held the blanket in her lap a little tighter.

“What about you?” Sigma asked. “When was the last time you heard from Tecchou?”

She hadn’t said anything to them. It had been a mistake not to do so, but she told herself that it would have been dangerous. For Tecchou, as well as them.

“I was the last person to say goodbye to him before he left the building. I pointed him to China,” she admitted. They both nodded but stayed silent as though they knew she had more to say.

With slender fingers, she picked a single pink hair from the blanket and let it drop to the floor. The action was saving time until she had to speak again, and the other two probably picked up on that. They knew her well, after all.

She opened her mouth once more. Despite wanting to look at anything but her colleagues, she forced herself to witness the impact of her own actions and words on their faces.

“Tecchou called me from Russia.” Even though she tried very hard, Teruko failed miserably at sounding casual. Her confession dropped in the room like a grenade and got a gasp out of Tachihara.

“What?!” he whispered, while Sigma’s eyes widened.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Teruko tried not to pay any attention to the emotions in Sigma’s voice. To how hurt and betrayed he sounded. She needed to keep calm. And yet, she averted her eyes regardless of her earlier decision.

“Because,” she started, her small hands balling to fists around the hem of the blanket now. Not able to make eye contact with Sigma and Tachihara, she watched the blood drain from her knuckles. “Tecchou is a traitor to us, the Hunting Dogs. As well as to the military and the state.”

“But,” Sigma raised his voice in confusion, “why did you tell him to go to China then?! Why did you try to help him?”

Teruko shook her head like it was obvious. “My personal interests and intentions stood in a clear conflict to the interests of the state.”

“‘Stood’?” Tachihara tried to dig deeper. He put his ramen on the low couch table they sat around. It was still steaming.

“I have made the decision to betray Tecchou as well,” she told them. Her voice sounded cold, just as intended. “I dug deep into the tabs kept on his life before the Hunting Dogs. Now we’re even. And that allows me to be neutral on the conflict between Tecchou and our superiors for the time being.”

Teruko had seen Sigma move. In the moment she’d mentioned Tecchou’s past, he’d wanted to cover his ears until he’d realised that she wasn’t going to give them any details. It almost made her smile. Or cry. Probably both. They had always looked out for each other so much and it was most definitely harder for Sigma to let him go than he was showing to his team.

Tachihara’s voice trembled a little when he spoke again. “Why would you do that?”

“Partially because he asked me to,” Teruko answered truthfully. “And partially because I used to be his superior, so it’s well within my right. Now he’s become a traitor, so I’m trying to understand him better and figure out future moves in case he needs to be stopped. But until then, I’ll remain neutral.”

Almost jumping up from the sofa, Sigma opened his mouth to yell at her but Teruko shut him down.

“I’m not done yet. Sit down,” she ordered. Sigma’s jaw snapped shut and did as he was told, curiosity and his usual obedience stronger than his rage. Teruko knew she’d only make it worse from now on. “I got forty-eight phone calls from a telephone booth in Poland but I didn’t pick up.”

This was bound to happen. This meeting with Tachihara and Sigma had always ended up in this exact spot, no matter how Teruko had played it out in her head. So, she’d come prepared. She reached into her pocket and tossed Sigma’s phone on the table carelessly.

“I knew that after me, Tecchou would try to reach Sigma. I was right. But only ten times.”

The silence following her words pierced her stomach but Teruko remained calm, almost bored. She had to hold onto the feeling of emptiness to stand her ground against the storm that was bound to come her way.

“Why would you do this?!” yelled Sigma. “You stole my phone? To keep me from talking to Tecchou?!” He snatched his device from the table and looked in horror at the display that still showed the missed calls on his lock screen. Teruko hadn’t bothered to swipe them away, wanting him to see them immediately as proof.

“That’s correct,” Teruko said. “I didn’t want you to aid a criminal and potentially incriminate yourself, Sigma.”

The word ‘criminal’ tasted disgusting, and it was exactly how it hit her teammate as well.

“Tecchou is not—”

“He is, Sigma. It’s about time we all realise that,” Teruko explained matter-of-factly.

“Weren’t you the one who put in a good word for him in front of the Commander?! Why would you do all this?! And then you betrayed his trust like that!” Sigma buried his hands in his hair, trying to make sense of everything. He couldn’t. Maybe there was no sense to it in the first place, but he didn’t know that. And Teruko was unsure of it as well.

“I’ve told you already: I’ve changed my mind. I’ve finally understood Tecchou’s actions and I view them as something worthy of being called ‘criminal’ or even ‘terrorism’.”

“What?” Tachihara had finally rediscovered his ability to speak although he was only whispering. “You’re talking nonsense, Teruko.”

“You’re lying!” Sigma was practically seething. “None of this is true!”

But Teruko brushed him off. “If that’s what you want to believe, then sure. But don’t let that influence your actions or you might end up in a cell.” She swallowed. “Maybe research recent murders in Russia and Poland, as well as the explosion of an office building in Russia. Open the file labelled ‘Suehiro Tecchou’ in the database. Maybe it’s a revenge spree, maybe it’s not. Either way, Tecchou’s actions are criminal. And that started the moment he left this building and chose Port Mafia affiliation over his orders.”

“Fuck!” Sigma yelled. He rubbed his hands over his face, red from anger. “I’ve had enough!” And with that, he stormed out. Tachihara looked after him, mouth agape. He glanced at Teruko but didn’t meet her eyes. She could see that his were unsure, though. They observed her for a moment and seemingly waited for her to do something. When she didn’t, he finally made up his mind and left as well.

As soon as the door fell shut behind them, Teruko sank back into the couch’s cushions with a sigh. Not one of relief, but of exhaustion and honest hurt. Sigma wouldn’t leave for good. Even though he loved Tecchou, be it as a comrade or friend like they all did, he was not the kind of person to leave everything behind just for him. Not when so much else was at risk. He’d probably try to reason with Teruko in a few days’ time. She’d like to see him try.

As for Tachihara, he had a specific job to do and he would stick to it, Teruko was sure of that as well. He wasn’t even close to betraying them, not even after this.

And lastly, there was Tecchou. Teruko felt guilty. Her snooping had brought revelations to her, and the way she saw him had changed. That small file by the name of ‘Jouno Saigiku’—about the child soldier rather than the criminal—had been very insightful as well. She had answers now, to everything. And yet, if she ever saw Tecchou again, she would not be able to look him in the eyes. Not after going behind his back like that. He’d trusted her, and she was nothing but a backstabber with what she had done.

His fixation and relationship with Jouno made sense to her now. She had seen pictures of them as children and young teens, and had read reports of how they had been found and their progress in the military. She’d never known any of this, but it made so much sense to her. It explained Tecchou’s strong feelings about justice after the war, which very much had been a driving force in his life even before she’d met him.

And yet, he chose Jouno over that. She smiled mildly. She truly hoped he would come out of this alive. With or without Jouno hadn’t mattered to her at first, but now it did. She wanted Jouno to live. She wanted Tecchou to have that one person who meant so much to him by his side.

It wasn’t for Jouno’s sake. Although she understood that he’d been too young for all of this and most likely became a criminal due to poor circumstances at a young age already, she couldn’t turn a blind eye to the extent of his actions. This was purely for Tecchou whom she considered important to her. And he considered Jouno important.

Teruko was sure that her alienation from Tecchou through those actions, as well as her hurting the other Hunting Dogs, would permanently damage her relationships with them. But she couldn’t drown in self-pity right now.

Because it was important that Tachihara and Sigma distrusted her rather than Fukuchi. Because they were needed for it all to play out smoothly. Because, if it had been her decision, she would have picked up the phone for Tecchou—the only thing that had kept her from going against Fukuchi’s direct orders had been the guilt of betraying Tecchou. With that, she had successfully hurt herself and made her afraid of facing her former comrade again.

She’d warned the man in Poland, then cut all last ties to Tecchou’s mission. She was well aware that he was a danger to the plan. If Fukuchi even had one. Although Teruko had no insight into anything just yet, she knew that the Hunting Dogs had been established as part of it. That made Tecchou a threat, as she’d seen the Commander’s reactions to his disappearance.

Even though Fukuchi’s concrete ideas weren’t known to Teruko, she knew of his end goal. And that was one worth protecting, even if it meant harming herself, Sigma, Tachihara, and Tecchou. She’d do anything to protect that goal, as it was in the best interest of everyone. Deep down, she hoped that Tecchou would understand that.

Would Fukuchi be proud of her for doing this? She did it for him, after all. And he did it for the good of the world, which was home to Tecchou, Tachihara, and Sigma as well.

How could she hurt her team like this while claiming it was for their good? She shook her head, having no answers to her own questions.

There was one thing she knew for sure, though: Teruko would do anything in her power to keep the other Hunting Dogs—her family—safe at the end of all of this. Even if it meant making them hate her.

~~~

It was bright. Loud. Any noise caused by movement or breathing was amplified by a million in his ears, and any light was that of a thousand suns.

His own breath was a storm raging between whistling mountains, his heartbeat a series of explosions. Every little motion caused his head to throb from the noise and the horrible pain in his body.

Tecchou tried holding his breath to make the pain disappear, but then he noticed that there was another person’s breathing in the room. It was raspier than his, and although Tecchou had never been one to pay too much attention to sounds in that way, the person was loud. Their breathing irritated him, made him angry. He wanted to ball his hands into fists and force them to be silent. But he couldn’t move. It was too hard.

A man’s voice spoke up.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Tecchou’s eyes opened immediately, wide, staring despite how much they burned in the bright light. All was blurry, but inside the blur, he could make out shapes that moved. They were round and dark in a cluster that formed a person.

He had already digested the fact that the man was there, but when he started talking, Tecchou felt his stomach turn as though he’d eaten something foul. Maybe the worms had been real after all.

The shapes were unfamiliar to him. But the voice, the accent, the way the man talked—

When Tecchou opened his mouth to ask him who he was, he only started coughing fiercely.

“Hey now…”

Tecchou squeezed his eyes shut in the coughing fit, but he could clearly hear shoes cross the room and approach him. He wanted to scoot away but felt like he couldn’t. Something was keeping him in place.

A hand patted his bare back between his shoulder blades. The touch was disgusting, it made Tecchou want to peel and claw off the touched skin but he couldn’t. He wanted to flee, although he was sure he wouldn’t get very far judging by how his body felt. Every single movement exhausted his energy, and his heart was beating as fast as it would after a marathon.

With his coughing dying down, the patting stopped and the hand grabbed his chin instead. The man took advantage of his mouth opening in surprise and pressed his thumb on one side, and his index and middle finger on the other side, into the skin of his cheek and pushed the flesh between his teeth to prevent him from shutting his mouth.

Tecchou wanted to bite and kick and hit him like a child who didn’t know what to do with himself, but once again, his limbs wouldn’t move.

He heard a noise of plastic near his ear. A second large hand entered his field of vision but he couldn’t make out anything specific. It was only when something hit his tongue that he realised what was happening. Several pills, some tasting neutral, some bitter, hit the muscle inside his mouth and rolled down until he almost gagged.

Tecchou wanted to move his tongue to get them out but he couldn’t. Neither could he move his lips to spit them to the ground. All attempts to clench his jaw ended on the fingers pushing his skin between his teeth. When he bit down too hard it hurt and he could taste blood, causing him to stop.

A moment later, a liquid hit his tongue and the back of his throat. When he made a startled noise, it went down the wrong pipe, making Tecchou cough again with his eyes squeezed shut.

He didn’t want to swallow any of it but between coughing and more liquid entering his mouth, he noticed the familiar taste of water. After thinking about it for a second, Tecchou gave in and let the man force it down his throat. He swallowed and drank it as it ran down his chin and dripped on his bare stomach and legs.

Some of the pills seemed too big for him and only went down with pain.

Once they were all gone, the bottle was removed from his mouth at once and Tecchou swallowed the rest of the water before the man took his hand away from his jaw.

Tecchou wanted to hide. He felt like a wounded animal, in pain and unable to run, while a hunter pointed a flashlight and a rifle at him.

Trying to move his legs and hands again, Tecchou blinked multiple times. Slowly, the light started to hurt less and the blurriness of it all faded slowly. He began seeing straight edges and pointy corners again, then details.

First, he tried to identify the man in the room with him but to no avail: he’d never seen him before.

He was tall with dark hair and a matching beard. His almond eyes sat behind round glasses in a fine, golden frame, which was an expensive contrast to his rather casual clothing. Although there were some sprinkles of blood on them. Tecchou assumed him to be in his forties from his face, but the lack of grey in his hair went against that.

Such a description matched nothing Tecchou could remember, but there was more about him.

Before he could figure it out, he looked down at his body. The operating table had him in a half-sitting position. His hands were red from the blood that was trapped inside them by the restraints around his wrists. The leather straps painfully cut into his skin.

The same had been done with his legs, and around his torso was his own belt, like a mockery.

“I can’t let a suicidal patient hurt himself,” the man said nonchalantly as he watched Tecchou’s bewildered expression.

“I’m not suicidal,” Tecchou argued. His voice sounded rough after the amount of screaming he had done, and it hurt to speak. But that wouldn’t stop him.

“Oh, really?!” the man laughed. “I hear that often! From pricks like you, every single time. I found you after you cut open your own stomach, that looked like enough evidence to me!”

“And this is how you talk to suicidal patients?”

“Well, you just told me you weren’t one!” The man shrugged and walked over to a round chair on wheels. He sat down and spun around an entire turn before looking back at Tecchou. This was a game to him and Tecchou doubted he had any good intentions.

“Then release me,” Tecchou ordered but the man shook his head.
“Not so fast.”

He looked Tecchou up and down and even though Tecchou wasn’t able to completely follow his eyes over his body, he saw the new stitches on his stomach he couldn’t remember doing himself. Maybe he really had passed out after making this cut across the middle of his abdomen, so he had gotten incredibly lucky.

Unfortunately, he remembered everything else in great detail. He remembered the pain, the things that his mind could now identify as hallucinations, and the things that had gone through his head over the course of the last day.

Tecchou despised remembering. But he also feared gaps in his memory. So, maybe he just hated the things that had happened and that he had done.

Being saved hadn’t been something Tecchou had considered happening. Maybe the lights hadn’t been part of the hallucinations after all. In his haze, he hadn’t noticed how odd it was that there wouldn’t be a speck of dust in the hospital, or that there was the equipment he needed readily available. The lights in the room turning on had mildly surprised him but not to the point of thinking about it any further. Now, all of that only added more questions to the confusion already clouding his head.

The man frowned at him. It came from an emotion that Tecchou couldn’t identify—it wasn’t pity or honest concern. Maybe he was being looked down on, maybe it was confusion. He didn’t know.

The man opened his mouth, and he had to hear that voice again.

“Does the look of yourself not frighten you?”

The words didn’t graze over Tecchou like he thought they would. They felt like a thousand bolts scratching over his skin and leaving him with shallow to deep cuts all over his body. They left him petrified and he didn’t even dare move in fear he would bleed out.

Merely his lips would move but he couldn’t let his vocal folds vibrate to give his words a voice.

“What?” he whispered.

A hand gestured at him, up and down. “You did this to yourself, didn’t you? Isn’t that terrifying? Wouldn’t death have been kinder?”

Was living in Tecchou’s body a punishment? Had this man saved him because he saw his survival as torture? Breathing out slowly, Tecchou tried to make sense of his words. There were things he didn’t understand but he didn’t want to ask, as he was sure he wouldn’t like the answers.

“I can’t die,” Tecchou told him. Only after killing Jouno would he be able to rest. Maybe the fact that he hadn’t died yet was a curse placed upon him. Maybe all of this was. Or it was just the consequences of his own past mistakes.

“So you’re doing this for someone else?” the man deduced. “Is that person worth it, though?” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, staring at him over his glasses.

Tecchou stared back. For the first time, he found the full courage to look into that man’s eyes. He leaned forward as far as his restraints would let him while keeping his eyes open.

Jouno needed to die. “He’s worth every last piece of my soul.” And so did Tecchou.

The man laughed and Tecchou decided that his time was only being wasted here. That had been the case from the beginning, but not even the curiosity that had followed the feeling of somehow knowing this man could keep him here.

He began tugging at the restraints but nothing helped. He felt weak. At first, he had expected himself to rejoice at the lack of unnatural strength that came with removing the enhancements. But now, he only felt like a misbehaving dog waiting to be put down. He checked all restraints with his eyes, then looked back at the man, whose gaze was always on Tecchou. Even when he blinked, it never felt like he was looking away. Tecchou truly felt watched by him. And he sat there, bare, exposed in nothing but underwear and bound to the point of bleeding.

He had to think. There were so many questions in his head, but he didn’t know if that man would give him any answers. And he certainly didn’t look like he would start speaking on his own.

“I’ve heard your voice before,” Tecchou said, trying to conceal the shaking in his tone with a coat of fake confidence and mystique. That seemed to pique the man’s interest. A sparkle in his eyes, then he narrowed them slightly.

“Oh?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. “And where could that have possibly been?”

Tecchou took a deep breath. He hadn’t wanted to open this box again. Ever. And certainly not under these circumstances. There was a chance he was wrong, and he hoped he was—but at the same time, being right sounded like an interesting option as well.

He deeply breathed in and out to gain calmness and courage, but it barely worked. There was sweat on his forehead but he couldn’t brush it off and just hoped his visitor wouldn’t notice that his act was fake whereas his words remained truthful.

“Fifteen years ago,” Tecchou started, “during the Great War. After Japan got involved in the war overseas, a group of about two thousand soldiers attacked the northwest of Japan.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly at Tecchou’s words, subtly letting him know that he was on the right track.

“It was a group of veterans from different countries. To this day, it’s unsure if they were tasked to do so, or if they had gone rogue and acted on their own.” No reaction to that information, he must have heard this a million times before, even if just on the news. He’d trained himself to either give a practised answer or none at all if a person were to ask him about it. “They meant to hit a military base near the shore. But instead, a town by the sea was hit and almost completely destroyed. The people who died were—”

“Simple casualties in an effort to put an end to Japan’s involvement in the war.” The man smirked. “Yeah, of course I remember. What’s your point with that?”

Tecchou pressed his lips together. The number of times he’d heard this. Hundreds—no—thousands of times. ‘Casualties’ when it had been his neighbours. His teachers. His classmates. His friends. His family. And, to some extent, parts of Tecchou himself. He’d heard people diminish it and brush it off like it was nothing. Like none of these people had mattered when they’d been loved by so many. They’d loved each other and had been loved.

People had mocked him for mourning and had spat on the lives lost all the time. Back in Japan, the inhabitants of his town were somehow considered heroes whose lives had been lost for some greater good that was unknown to him. And he’d never understood why. He didn’t understand how his mother had been a simple casualty—and neither had she been a hero.

In the end, he’d never returned to that town by the sea he’d once called home. And, as things looked now, he probably never would.

Despite tears threatening to blur his vision again, Tecchou continued talking. He would make this man listen. Make him remember.

“About a year after the initial attack, there was a massacre in a barn on a hill.” This time, his words weren’t mocked. They carried a weight he hadn’t expected. Maybe he’d struck gold with this. “As a single soldier, I was called as backup. At twelve years old, I arrived at the barn and found an enemy soldier. A woman.”

He didn’t even have to wait a second for the man to realise what Tecchou was getting at.

“The Lorelei…” he mumbled. “She was killed that night.” His eyes widened even further. While Tecchou tried to meet his gaze, unwavering, the man avoided it all of a sudden.

Tecchou leaned against the belt around his chest until it painfully pressed into his skin.

“That’s right,” Tecchou said. His voice was low in his throat and got even lower when the images rushing back into his head brought a smile to his face. A morbid one, like a mask he put on. “I killed her. I cut her into pieces with my sword, and then I left her there for the rats.”

He had barely finished the sentence when suddenly, there was a hand around his throat, but it didn’t squeeze just yet. Tecchou looked up at the face that wanted to murder him. That face that finally gave the disembodied voice a form, after all this time.

“It was you who spoke to her through that radio, wasn’t it? Who mocked the deaths of my comrades that night. Who worried for her when she wouldn’t answer.”

The hand let go of his neck. However, Tecchou wasn’t given any time to feel triumphant about that, as a fist connected with his jaw just a moment later.

Even if it was with full force, Tecchou confidently assumed that this man didn’t usually use his fists like that. He grunted in mild pain, but not even his smile was wiped off his face.

“It was one loss in exchange for thousands,” Tecchou told him. “Something so insignificant.”

Another punch, but this time aimed at his stomach.

A scream escaped him and he squirmed in his restraints. The impact itself wasn’t that powerful, but the created pain was amplified and travelled along the wound on his stomach, stinging horribly. Tecchou was afraid the stitches would break open again and cause him to bleed out.

A hand roughly grabbed his hair and pulled his head until his back hit the operating table.

“Don’t you dare forget who saved your life just now,” came a growl into his ear.

Tecchou felt like he could throw up again, but his stomach was completely empty. He wanted to curl into a ball to lessen the pain, but he couldn’t move one bit. Even if he were able to move, giving in like that would only be more humiliating.

All he could do was fight the physical anguish and the lump forming in his throat at the thought of being able to do—nothing. He felt powerless. The little power he’d had over that man’s emotions only brought him more agony. Intentionally bringing anger and emotional pain to people was usually not Tecchou’s way, and now he remembered why.

He clenched his jaw and only spoke through his teeth.

“You saved me?” Tecchou almost whispered. “How? Why? Who are you?”

The hand that held his hair pushed his head to the side as it let go, then the man sat down on his chair again.

His face was red and Tecchou now knew better than to provoke him again. Furthermore, he figured that whatever information that man would give him wouldn’t be shared with the intention of helping Tecchou. No, that man used his knowledge to hurt others. To enrage them, or to cause emotional turmoil.

So, he balled his hands into fists to brace himself when he spoke again.

“Hoffmann. I was a military doctor and soldier who went on the operation to Japan. Killed a bunch of people.” He shrugged like it was trivial information while pretending his outburst of anger had never happened.

“Back here, I became a doctor at this hospital and the military base first, then later an underground doctor for this town. I saw you wandering around the mine from a distance but eventually lost you, so I thought you were one of those kids looking for a quiet place to kill themselves, or you just looked for abandoned places and pissed off again after. Found you here with your stomach torn open and organs spilling out, so I stitched you back up.”

Things were slowly starting to make sense.

Tecchou swallowed. ‘Underground doctor for this town’—it reminded him of the truck driver who’d said he was delivering hospital equipment. While that didn’t mean much, dropping Tecchou off had also been in his direction.

“I thought this town was abandoned. Who lives here?” He didn’t care to comment on his life being saved. There was no point in showing gratitude to a monster, not after what he’d done with no remorse. But Hoffmann didn’t look like he wanted to hear a ‘thank you’ either.

“The surface mining was forcing people to move away from here. A big company’s greed forced people out of their homes. Soon, this town will be nothing more than bare soil. Being here is illegal, but the people have been fighting back. I’m their doctor.”

Tecchou nodded slowly. What Patrick had called his ‘former home’ must be this town, then. And the people fighting back would explain the abandoned and damaged trucks and machines. In a way, this reminded him of how Jouno and he had stayed in their hometown to fight. So he could definitely empathise with the people here.

However, the fact that Hoffmann had worked at the military base where Tecchou had been stationed made him feel numb. He had been so close this entire time. So close to the man he had sworn to kill and who’d been a symbol of his hatred for years. Hoffmann had been treating his fellow soldiers’ injuries and sicknesses, had pronounced countless comrades of his dead. All of this after what he’d done in Tecchou’s hometown. He’d faced no consequences, no repercussions.

“Do you do this because you like being close to death?” Tecchou asked before he could stop himself.

He expected violence again, but that didn’t happen. Hoffmann simply nodded. “Yes. The only reason why I didn’t let you die is because you fascinated me. I wanted to know what your deal was, and I wanted to see you hurt. Also because it would’ve been a pain to dispose of your body.”

“Why?” the soldier questioned.

“Because of your background. Being an experiment and all. You know, Japan wasn’t the only nation that worked on enhancing the physical performance of humans after the war.”

When Tecchou silently pressed him for more, Hoffmann continued with a short sigh. “I’ve seen superhumans similar to you. Not identical, and I couldn’t exactly tell what they did to you because I’m assuming that cutting yourself open was to reverse whatever they’d done with you. Although you didn’t get all of it out. When a human experiment fails, they dump the bodies at various locations. Sometimes in rivers where they’ll be found after the corpses have become unrecognisable. Sometimes at hospitals, so we dispose of them. I got my hands on a lot of these bodies.”

That made sense to Tecchou, despite never having thought about it. Of course, other nations would try to enhance their soldiers as well. Even though they had presumably all been secretive about it, their experiments had brought them in a similar direction.

First abilities, then weapons against abilities, then superhumans and singularities. How long until the earth would be swallowed whole?

“There are also other experiments that operated around the world. Black No. 12 comes to mind, or—” He stopped himself with a shrug. “Since you have at least some of the enhancements still inside of you, I’d have to hide your body far, far away. If you were found near this town, then the police would finally have a ‘good’ reason to start harming people. If the government finds out about what you are, they’ll have to put effort into hiding that and stealing your enhancements’ information. This will result in more experiments and bodies dumped. I do not care about the lives of others. But being connected to any of this would be a pain.”

Tecchou thought about it. He had many questions about all of this but he wasn’t sure he wanted answers from him. There was no way this man would answer questions about the Great War or the enhancements objectively, even though he seemed to believe the things he said. Hoffmann was clearly biased. Tecchou was as well, but he didn’t want to hear a monster’s thoughts on the terror and death of his loved ones.

He began flexing the muscles in his body. One by one, just to test how they were feeling. Many ached horribly, especially his stomach and where he’d cut his own flesh, but he could move. If his legs would be able to carry him was a different question, and so was if his hands could hold a sword.

His sword! Tecchou looked around and found his things on a pile on the floor a metre away. Good.

“What, are you thinking of leaving already?” Hoffmann asked and Tecchou nodded.

“I have nothing else to talk to you about. You and your soldiers poured oil into our river and ignited it. You didn’t stop at civilians, including children. And that woman you spoke of murdered people very dear to me.”

With a cold laugh, Hoffmann stood up and walked over to Tecchou’s things. He picked up his sword and unsheathed it. “Was it brutal, what the Lorelei did?”

Tecchou could barely concentrate on what Hoffmann was doing when the question flooded his mind with images of red rain hitting his skin. Of people he’d grown close to dead, hanging from the ceiling and bleeding dry. Cut apart by one single person. Corpses that still showed fear, surprise, and pain in their eyes.

“I take that as a yes,” Hoffmann sighed at his expression. He approached the operating table and tapped the side of his sword that wasn’t sharp on Tecchou’s knee. “Tell me what she did.”

He flipped it over to the sharpened side but didn’t cut Tecchou. The cold metal crept up his thigh. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, and so, so cold. The hairs on his body all stood up at the feeling and Tecchou squirmed on the table. He knew that he wasn’t going to be killed just yet, but still, his entire body felt like he was fearing for his life. His heart could burst out of his chest any second.

“Hold still or you might hurt yourself.” His voice was smooth and controlled in a way that made Tecchou’s skin crawl. “Answer me. What did she do?”

The sword was pulled over his skin and the sharp tip of it grazed over the fresh stitches Tecchou had done, before wandering back to the undamaged parts of his leg, all within a second. It felt so incredibly slow to Tecchou. The sensation lasted hours and stayed burnt into his skin.

He gasped for air. Out. He needed to get out but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. Tears shot into his eyes. His skin felt too tight and he was sure this sensation would stay forever. Tecchou wanted to claw it off until there was blood under his fingernails.

“Answer me,” came a second demand spoken so smoothly that Tecchou felt like he had to throw up again.

“She lured them in, probably with her skill.” He had to press the words out of his lungs while the sword reached his hip and travelled up the side of his body to his waist. Hoffmann followed the blade with his eyes and didn’t look at his face.

Tecchou wasn’t sure what he would have preferred—eyes on his broken, weak, and exposed body, or on his dead-looking face, close to crying. It was the definition of pathetic. The humiliation made Tecchou want to crawl out of his flesh. His eyes, which were so focused on the sword, stung while he forced himself not to blink in fear that tears would fall.

The body he had lived with since he was born felt suffocating. Too tight. It was betraying him by being weak and unable to fight, which was its only use. He couldn’t escape.

“And then?”

Tecchou swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to keep talking. He didn’t even feel like he could. But he forced himself to.

“Then she cut their heads off and hung them beneath the ceiling, where they bled out.”

A smile appeared on Hoffmann’s face. “Oh yes, that sounds just like my Lorelei.”

The metal crossed the way over his stomach and close to his chest. With Tecchou’s heavy breaths, the blade moved up and down quickly, accelerating even more when he watched it come closer. Once the metal touched his ribs, it felt like Tecchou gave up. All his energy left him and he did the one thing he’d always been told not to do: he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t turn off his other senses like that. Hoffmann’s raspy breaths still met his ears, and the coldness slipping over his pectoral muscle became even more prominent. But Tecchou couldn’t do it anymore. He was done. He didn’t want to see the blade anymore, didn’t want to see the man whose eyes found joy in the power he had over Tecchou without hurting him physically. It was all too much.

Once again, Tecchou wished to die. It was a pitiful wish, one not born from the guilt of hurting others, but from his own shame of being weak. How could he ever look in the mirror again after this? How could he ever call himself a soldier or even a man? A person?

He imagined Jouno standing in the corner, laughing at him. Basking in his pain. It was an image he created in his mind to punish himself because there was no greater punishment than the reality of Jouno hating him so much to the point of enjoying his pain.

Tecchou clenched his jaw and wished for everything to end.

The sword reached his collarbone and traced its curve. Hoffmann would cut his throat or behead him, and it was what Tecchou hoped for.

At once, the blade stopped and he almost let out a surprised noise.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Hoffmann cut through the leather tying down Tecchou’s arm, then the other one.

Too shocked to move, Tecchou remained paralyzed until all his limbs were free again and the doctor stepped back.

“I’m done with you,” he announced, bored. “You’re free to go.” Hoffmann sheathed the sword and dropped it on the floor. “I have no interest in you or keeping you here. I got what I wanted.”

Tecchou sucked in a sharp breath and violently knocked himself out of his current state. Run. He just needed to get away. He jumped up from the table and made it to his clothes despite his knees almost giving in under his weight. It probably looked laughable.

Not even a second later, he had his pants and t-shirt on, then his boots. He grabbed his sword.

Having his weapon made him feel more secure almost immediately. Beyond all the choked tears, he was reclaiming a part of himself even though it had been tainted by the hands that had held the sword’s hilt before him. There was no thinking about that now, though. He just needed to act with the bit of energy that his weapon gave him. It was like a part of his soul had been placed inside of it and was now flowing back into his body. Just for this one moment.

Tecchou was a man who believed in revenge. It aligned with justice. He believed in small acts of revenge, as well as killing in revenge. ‘Killing that person won’t make someone feel better’ and ‘it doesn’t make one any better than that person’ were concepts he did not subscribe to.

It would make him feel better. He was better.

In one swift motion, Tecchou unsheathed his sword. It felt like years since he had last done so, but it still fit into his hand as perfectly as it had on day one.

Hoffmann was an easy target. He just stood there, looking at him. No shock was in his face, no fear or pain. There was a hint of bliss. It was the same bliss he’d expressed when killing people, or when he had—Tecchou couldn’t bring himself to think back to what had just happened a minute ago.

Maybe he thought of his death as something painful to Tecchou, when it would be freeing. Maybe he was imagining a grim future for him, but that wouldn’t be the case for him either.

Tecchou didn’t understand the reasons for his opponent’s feelings, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was the sight of his blade breaking the skin on the man’s neck. The first drops of blood could be seen. He went deeper, then arteries were cut and began spilling their contents.

Still, there was no terror or suffering in that face, although Tecchou wished them to be there. He was fast, so Hoffmann didn’t even feel it when the sword swiftly cut his throat and spine into pieces before coming out the other side with no resistance from the man or his very bones.

Tecchou watched him drop to the floor. The head first, then the body. Blood spilled everywhere and quickly formed a puddle on the hospital’s clean tiles.

None of that fazed Tecchou. He merely felt two pieces of his soul re-entering his body: one from all those years ago, and another from his sword.

Grabbing his coat before it could get bloody, Tecchou walked right through the puddle and left the hospital with a trace of red footsteps behind him.

Chapter Text

Tecchou found several electric generators behind the hospital. Some of them were huge, expensive machines, and hurt in his ears with their buzzing. He wondered if the fleeting lights he’d seen at night had also been provided by generators like these—however, the lamps inside the homes had been turned off in fear that Tecchou was with the police or simply someone looking for trouble.

That wouldn’t explain the doorbells not working but he assumed they’d been disconnected so that the people here could hide their presence better. Tecchou understood those fears and didn’t blame anyone for not opening their door for him the night before.

He sighed as he thought about the community and their situation, feeling his heart growing a bit heavy again.

It wasn’t that Tecchou felt guilty for killing Hoffmann; he felt guilty for taking away the people’s doctor whom they’d relied on. Although, it was very questionable whether a man such as Hoffmann had ever been a trustworthy medical professional in the first place. Tecchou heavily doubted it.

He decided to not disturb anyone else in this town. That’s why he’d left through the back and escaped into what he assumed to be evening again. It was impossible for him to figure out at what time he’d been found by Hoffmann, or how much had passed since then. However, since he wasn’t counting down the days anymore, he didn’t mind not knowing as much.

His legs still trembled, both caused by the encounter he’d had just now, and as a purely physical symptom. Every movement ached. Nevertheless, the intense pain within the very core of his limbs had faded a bit, which he was glad about. It meant he’d succeeded. But some of the enhancements remained, still aching, and the new cuts and burns on his body added to his struggles.

Nevertheless, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Knowing that he could heal his body and recover a natural one was now a freeing thought. Maybe not being bound to the military like that anymore would bring him new revelations in the last few days of his life.

Tecchou looked around to find any hint of where to go next, although he doubted there would be anything.

The hospital’s back was grey and bleak yet undamaged, whereas the broad driveway leading down to a street was breaking apart to make room for flowers and other plants. Cars evidently didn’t drive here anymore, but there was a single vehicle near the generators. Tecchou recognised it almost instantly. ‘Delivering hospital equipment’, huh. He smiled. Unlike Hoffmann, Patrick had been a pleasure to be around. For a moment, he contemplated if he wanted to simply leave or knock on the truck when a voice called out to him.

“Hey! Tecchou!” His head whipped around and he saw Patrick walk around the corner of the building and closer to where the soldier was standing.

Although Tecchou still felt slightly distraught from everything earlier, seeing a familiar face was nice.

“We meet again,” he greeted. The sound of his hoarse voice caused Patrick’s face to drop, and Tecchou promptly found himself on the passenger seat again, with food and water, answering the question ‘what happened?’ with a story of—everything.

Maybe the situation that had transpired made him care a lot less, maybe his brain was still fuzzy. Maybe the parasites that remained were finally driving him insane.

But even with the awareness that there might be something wrong, the words kept spilling from his lips. He talked about the Great War, Jouno, joining the Hunting Dogs, finding Jouno again, and his hunt for his former friend.

Patrick listened quietly, with his eyes on Tecchou the entire time even though his gaze wasn’t met. He nodded from time to time but didn’t ask any questions.

Halfway through his story, Tecchou realised that he enjoyed being listened to like this. That, even though this man hadn’t lived the same experiences, he liked sharing them and creating a sense of understanding. Maybe he should’ve tried to share it with the Hunting Dogs after all instead of hiding it away and bottling up his feelings until he didn’t even know he had them anymore.

It was like a boulder being lifted off his cold, dead body, allowing the sun to shine on him once more and letting flowers grow from his corpse. His chest felt free, but not entirely—he was sure that he would finally be free after talking to the people he considered friends. After he healed. But that would most likely never occur.

It wasn’t even that he had anything horrible to hide from anyone. But those were deeply personal feelings and stories of loss, love, and forgetting how to live. Things Tecchou hadn’t even realised had happened to him until now, and he was sure that he wouldn’t have listened to anyone pointing those out to him before this very moment. Because his mind had been too far gone, but he finally thought to see clearly. And the reality hurt. Tecchou didn’t want to pity himself, but he did.

As the Colonel had told him, soldiers didn’t cry, only humans did. His feelings had no place in the military, but now he was free.

Tecchou cried. His eyes hurt, but it felt good. Having the words fall from his brain and mouth felt good.

And Patrick listened. He didn’t try to comfort Tecchou, and Tecchou appreciated that. He didn’t need to be comforted, he simply needed to put all of those thoughts that had been trapped in his mind for years into words.

It took him a while to run out of things to say but eventually, he did.

Patrick was quiet when Tecchou finished. The look on his face was unreadable but it held no malice or fear.

“Could you repeat the last sentence again?” he asked after a while.

“Uh, yeah sure,” Tecchou said, wiping his tears with the third tissue he’d been given. His voice was heavy from his sobs but somehow that didn’t bother him one bit. “I beheaded your doctor.”

“Right. Thank you.” He nodded. To Tecchou’s surprise, Patrick didn’t have a big reaction to that part. It was as if he understood that the situation had been dire and felt some of Tecchou’s pain, so he didn’t press for any further details. He didn’t even want to call the police or confirm the death himself.

For a moment, Tecchou thought he’d be afraid that Patrick didn’t believe him or would even be scared of him. That he took this as the ramblings of someone who was insane and dangerous, and should be locked up for life. But Tecchou wasn’t afraid. Not with the man sitting next to him, who had shown him kindness with no questions asked. Who’d listened to everything Tecchou had to say.

Now, that man showed sadness in his expression. “Can I see the keychain you mentioned?”

Without hesitation, Tecchou slid his hand into his pocket. Right beneath the lighter, he felt something soft. When he pulled it out, he noticed how it had definitely seen better days. It was a lot dirtier than when he’d freed it from underneath his pillow, and almost unrecognisable from what it used to be when he’d received it.

Tecchou wordlessly offered it to Patrick, who took it.

“Your mom gave this to you?”

A nod. “When I was seven. It’s the only possession I have from home.”

“And how old are you now?”
“Twenty-six.”

A smile adorned Patrick’s face as he turned the keychain in his hand. “You must’ve loved her a lot, then. Still do.”

Tecchou froze. If he was being honest, he’d tried to barely think about his mother at all over the years. It had no place in his line of work. Yet another thing he’d pushed down and down and down. While he did remember crying back when she’d died, he’d tried to look strong almost immediately to impress the people who were with the military. He hadn’t known that there had been no need to impress them, though. Those people hadn’t taken him in because he was emotionally strong, but because he was easy to use and possessed an ability. They’d made him believe that he was born to serve his country, serve the people.

He wasn’t born to love. He was a weapon, a tool for those who didn’t care to dirty their own hands.

“Yeah…” Tecchou said hesitantly. He rubbed his eye to wipe any tears before they could fall again. Jouno had loved Tecchou’s mother as well, and he wished he could have told the other Hunting Dogs about her. He wished they could have met her. “I guess so.”

“Open your hands.”

Tecchou complied and formed a small bowl with his hands that Patrick placed the keychain in. He closed Tecchou’s fingers over it.

“To be loved is to be changed. Keep that love close, let it change you.”

There was nothing Tecchou could say. Neither mentally, as his thoughts were rushing by too fast for him to keep up, nor physically with the lump in his throat. He could only press his lips together and put the keychain back into his pocket.

Did this saying also hold for humans?

Was this love that was changing him? Past love? Friendship? Tecchou had never thought about it this way. He had only felt Jouno’s hatred towards him and his own guilt. ‘Love’ hadn’t really been on his mind much when he thought of himself and Jouno, and he probably shouldn’t start now.

But then again, he’d seen Jouno’s message. And it left him so, so confused again.

“I—” his words got caught in his throat. About how he’d wanted to give this keychain, his only possession, to Jouno in case he died. It had been written in his will that was probably archived with other military documents. He imagined himself dying as a Hunting Dog and Jouno, in prison, receiving nothing but this keychain.

Tecchou wondered if his former friend remembered it. After the day his mother had given it to him, Tecchou’d almost forced it into Jouno’s hands to let him feel how soft it was, and even Jouno had been amazed by that.

A mild smile appeared on his lips at that memory, but he forced it down. This was not the time to become sentimental about his times with Jouno. Maybe, if he made it another few years to a decade, he would be able to look back fondly, like he did with his mother right now. He liked thinking about her and the time they’d had together, and even though it still hurt, allowing himself to dwell on memories felt good. Some of the pain had healed at last.

“And you really want to kill that man?” Patrick asked. His brows were knitted together on his forehead.

The question left Tecchou taken aback. He thought he’d given all the reasons in the world to do it. It was the rational thing to do—like Olek had made him realise. “Why would I not?”

Patrick sighed. Not in annoyance, but differently. Tecchou couldn’t place his finger on it. “You speak very highly of him. Wouldn’t it hurt you to kill him?”

Tecchou shifted his body in his seat so that he was facing the driver fully. “That doesn’t matter. Jouno has hurt too many people. Innocent people. He’s like—he’s just like that doctor.”

“But is he like that to you?”

When Tecchou gave him a confused look, Patrick kept talking. “You know… When my son was sixteen, he shoplifted things that amounted to a huge sum of money. An act of rebellion because we were forced to move. Usually, I would have condemned these actions. And don’t get me wrong, I still did. But he’s also my son, and I love him. So—”

“You judged his actions less…” Tecchou made a thoughtful face. “But that’s irrational.”

“Most humans aren’t rational, Tecchou. Love makes us dumb. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. From your words, you believe him to still be a good person, even if it’s just somewhere deep down. Someone good who’s done bad things, rather than the other way around. I don’t live your life. I can’t tell you what to do. And hell, usually I would condemn any murderer! But your life is so far removed from what I live that I feel like I can’t apply the same values to it. You should follow your feelings instead.”

They sat in silence as Tecchou let that sink in—it was a slow process as his mind went over every single word individually, then over every possible combination of phrases in these sentences. Then, he looked inward and compared them to his own thoughts.

In the eye of justice, all people had to be treated equally and in a fair trial. Human emotions got in the way, which was why he’d always been taught to not feel them or talk about them. Justice should matter the most to Tecchou, and for the majority of his life, that had been the case. It was confusing to have that change.

Maybe his feelings had always been bigger than justice, but the two had aligned up until now. He loved the other Hunting Dogs, and since they were on the same path as him, he hadn’t experienced any conflicts within his beliefs. Jouno was the first to challenge them.

It was weird to have someone force Tecchou’s feelings above justice and what was right when he’d worked so hard to not think that way. In other scenarios, he wouldn’t be able to believe someone could put those feelings over a murderer. Tecchou wondered what kind of unconditional compassion this was, and if it was humanity or plain stupidity.

His thoughts were still scrambled to an unnatural degree. He went back and forth on everything constantly. It was like being pulled in all directions and it was tearing him apart, so he stuck to his decision. It was final. There was no going back.

“I get what you mean,” Tecchou finally said. “But I’ll do what I have to do.”

Patrick nodded, although with a gleam of sadness. “Then so be it. Do you know how to, though? You said he had a… what’s it called again? Magic?”

“Ability. Yes.” Tecchou turned his body and leaned his head against the backrest. The sun was once again setting outside. His limbs felt heavy and the pain slowly intensified with the fatigue the evening brought.

He wondered if he’d destroyed enough of the parasites to keep himself alive for now, or if they’d go back to killing him quickly. He doubted that they had the ability to reproduce all by themselves, as he’d always needed surgeries after the former incidents involving fire or extreme heat. It would also take away the level of absolute control the military possessed over everything.

“He can—form his body into particles. And with his heightened senses, he can always tell when someone is attacking him. So he’s practically invincible.” Tecchou chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Unless…”

He thought back to all the times they had met again in reverse chronology. Starting in Russia surrounded by explosions, talking on the phone, and lastly, their reunion. When he’d held onto Jouno to prevent him from falling off the plane. Tecchou tapped his chin with his finger.

Jouno could have easily used his skill to get out of his grip but instead, he’d asked him multiple times to let go. What else had been there? The plane, an explosion, the airport underneath them. His opponent had waited a while to activate his skill. Maybe he hadn’t wanted Tecchou to know he had one? Even though chances of them meeting again after this had been fairly low until Jouno decided to let himself be chased.

He’d never told him when they were younger but chances were he hadn’t discovered it until later.

It was a stretch, but—

“Rain.”

Patrick furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Rain is a problem for Jouno’s skill,” Tecchou explained. “It’s probably unsafe for him to use it in case particles get caught by raindrops. I think that might be a problem when it happens in masses. Which also means that fire could very well be dangerous for him.”

“That makes sense…” Not entirely being able to follow, Patrick nodded. He then sighed. “So, what’s the plan?”

“What’s the weather report for the next week and do you have any gasoline around?”

~~~

Tecchou took a more or less cold shower in the hospital. It was surprising that they had water, but he was sure the people living there had figured that out somehow just like they’d done with electricity. They were a tight-knit community, from what he’d heard, and supported each other where they could.

In the flickering light, he carefully splashed water onto the stitches covering his legs and stomach. When that didn’t hurt or stung too badly, he made a brave step forward. The cold made him shiver but he got used to it quickly.

He used the shampoo Patrick had given him—the guy had brought him some essentials as well as fresh clothes after asking around the town. Tecchou hadn’t wanted to see any of the people living here as he was afraid of scaring anyone with his looks. And he probably didn’t have the best reputation with everyone after beheading Hoffmann, which Patrick had been understanding of.

Still, Tecchou was trying to think of a way to thank the people who’d provided for him. He might write a letter or leave some of his remaining money with them. Especially considering the threat of losing their homes, Tecchou appreciated their kindness to a stranger like him. It amazed him how the people here looked out for each other, even extending that to him.

What eased his mind a little was that Patrick had told him that their doctor hadn’t had the best reputation to begin with, and many had found him weird or even predatory in different ways, so some saw his death as justifiable. Patrick said that Hoffmann had abused the fact that this was currently lawless land and the people unwilling to leave their homes were criminals already. Chances were low that they’d leave to tell the police what had happened to them, as they feared being arrested themselves.

He had preyed on these people and used their pain and unfortunate situation against them in the most horrible way, but they hadn’t been able to stand up against him. So, some supported Tecchou and volunteers had already been found to dispose of the body.

Still, others condemned Tecchou for killing him, but nobody had outright called him a murderer in front of Patrick.

Tecchou didn’t need the validation of others to know his actions were justified in one way or another, but support was always nice. He could also get behind those who condemned him.

It took him about four rounds of shampooing until his hair somehow reached its cleanliness from before. Although he’d showered at Andrei’s place, lots of filth had gathered up there that he desperately needed to get rid of. He watched it flow down the drain in grey and brown waves. In chunks and as dust.

Then, he began washing his body. Like everything else, his skin ached and burned when he began to carefully rub his hands over it. Sometimes it felt like nails being hammered into his flesh, sometimes it was sandpaper being dragged over his limbs.

On his burns, both the new and old skin peeled off painfully, often leaving him bleeding.

Dried blood came off in chunks and flakes, some of it rehydrated and bled onto the floor. It looked almost identical to fresh blood when it circled the drain and got sucked into it eventually, making Tecchou shudder.

He had to clench his jaw when he rubbed the skin around his stitches. Hoffmann had, in fact, done a decent job with those but he preferred to not think about that.
In an attempt to avoid putting a strain on the healing skin and flesh, Tecchou tried not to move his stitches but that proved to be insufficient for cleaning himself properly. So, with closed eyes and a deep breath in his lungs, he began putting pressure on them.

It hurt and sometimes ripped open parts of the wounds or caused the thread to dig into his skin, but he was afraid all of that dirt on him would lead to infections. And Tecchou wanted to avoid that at all cost. So, he kept scrubbing.

Filth and blood darkened the tiles and were dragged away by the water. Tecchou watched it all go down the pipes in masses with a sigh.

From time to time, when he felt himself slip into a state of panic caused by how his body felt or by thinking about everything, the sight was oddly grounding. The pain was ending and he was not only cleaning his body but also his mind.

And soon enough, the long wound on his stomach was done.

Other parts were easier again. He washed his legs and their wounds, as well as the rest of his body, then stepped out of the shower.

There was a mirror on the wall above the sink and Tecchou hesitated for a moment before allowing himself a glance. Due to the cold water, there was no need to wipe it down before being able to see anything.

‘Does the look of yourself not frighten you?’

Even after the shower, he barely looked like a person. The lack of food, water, and sleep made his skin take an ashen colour. The circles under his eyes were deep and made it appear like his eyes sat in dark holes instead of directly embedded under his skin. His cheeks were hollow and the flesh over them looked strange and loose.

The gash on his face was now pink, still healing with new skin. It looked healthy for the most part and Tecchou was glad about that.

There was something else in his face, though—probably his expression—that didn’t make him look human. His eyes were vacant, stared into nothing at all. Tecchou wondered if that would ever change.

He traced the wound on his stomach with his fingers and a lump started forming in his throat. Did this frighten him? Tecchou was unsure of his feelings about this. He didn’t feel much if he was being honest. It was the result of trying to save his own life, and this had been a necessary step. It didn’t make him sad or angry, and it surely didn’t scare him.

He had done this. It had been an action of saving as well as freeing himself, and that was something he should be glad about. But he wasn’t. He didn’t feel much, after all.

Tecchou sighed and tore his mind off the words the doctor had said to him. They simply weren’t worth his time. Instead, he looked at the rest of his body. The stitches looked a bit too red on his legs, so he guessed they might become infected. He’d try to find anything useful to treat them with, just as a precaution. This was a hospital with a good community, so that shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

Finally, he bent down and grabbed his towel. Everything hurt while he moved. Every bone, every muscle, and every single fibre of his body. Even limbs he hadn’t cut open, all the way to his fingertips and toes.

He wondered how the parasite would behave now—if it would redistribute what was left of it back to his legs and arms, which would make continuing treatment easier for him to thin it out further. If he even got to the point where it would be necessary for him to go over this again.

Although he was still rotting and being eaten alive, there had been slight improvements: he hadn’t lost time anymore and his coughing had all but disappeared. No nosebleeds or further hallucinations. All that remained were horrible pain, messy thoughts, and exhaustion, so he hoped the other symptoms wouldn’t reoccur.

Tecchou dried his hair and the rest of his body very carefully, then put on clothes. They smelled fresh and of unfamiliar cologne. He wasn’t bothered by it but they were clearly taken from two different households judging by the amount of wrinkles and the smell. He sank into the clothes, the fresh feeling on his skin almost made him smile. It was a feeling he’d truly missed.

Moving on to his hair, brushing it took him a bit, as he had to detangle a lot of knots. He could almost hear Teruko scolding him for messing it up so much because he ‘should be glad he had such nice hair and the older ladies were always jealous’ or something like that.

When they’d first gotten closer, Teruko had brushed his hair trying to get it to look ‘neat’ and not as messy, but eventually, she’d had to accept that it was just naturally like that and it wouldn’t change. That hadn’t stopped her from trying different styles on him, none of which had particularly stood out to him.

The only one he’d enjoyed had been a short period of time where all of his hair had almost reached his chest. Teruko had liked it as well and she’d insisted he kept two long strands of hair as a physical reminder of that time (Sigma found them to be ridiculous, so maybe she’d only been messing with him).

Tecchou stared into his face again, looking even more pale when framed by his dark hair. That didn’t make him feel much either, but being empty wasn’t acceptance. Things still needed to be done for him to feel any sort of closure or even accomplishment. Tecchou sighed deeply and shook his limbs one by one to wake them up and get his circulation going again.

Then, he straightened his new t-shirt with his hands, brushed his teeth, and made his way back down to where Patrick was waiting for him in the hospital’s entrance area. It was pitch black outside the door, so he’d turned on the light. In front of him was a map.

“What’re you looking at?” asked Tecchou. He stopped for a moment when he noticed Patrick’s serious face, then continued to approach him. As he sat down next to him and peeked at the map, he noticed that he wasn’t familiar with the area shown but he didn’t have time to figure out what it was, as Patrick finally started speaking.

“I described Jouno to some people around town when they got nosy about what happened. Tall, white hair with red ends, might wear a suit. Kinda evil-looking. Also the clown guy.”

Tecchou nodded.

“And a few people claim to have seen that man or heard about him.” He tapped on the map. Tecchou followed his finger. “We’re here, in this town.”

The soldier narrowed his eyes at the assembly of streets. It had the same name, but the environment was different. A map that had been printed before the terrain had been changed by surface mining? Lots of the forest the map claimed to be around was now missing, same with a few streets and some houses. Also the several grey rectangles between this town and another.

“There used to be a small military base here—the one you mentioned.” Patrick circled the lone group of squares. “The mine takes up all of that space now. And a few kilometres east is another town with a factory. The people there were also displaced but some of them have been protesting, just like us. The factory was forcibly shut down, but recently, people have been offered to work there.”

“What? What kind of work?”

Patrick shrugged. “Some kind of production that everyone is secretive about. The employers are said to be mean and weird but they pay extremely well and guarantee the town freedom from police and government for as long as they work there.”

“And those employers are Jouno and Gogol?” This didn’t make sense to Tecchou. There was no point in leading a factory, he didn’t see any reason for that at all. But then again—what did he even know about what Jouno was doing? Beyond smuggling explosives and killing people, not much. He didn’t even know if Jouno and Gogol were members of an organisation or acted alone. Tecchou hadn’t thought about that and it was embarrassing.

“One of the men is said to look like Jouno, yes. I find it odd that they would be so close, though.”

“That’s what’s surprising me the least,” Tecchou admitted with a sigh. “Jouno has been deliberately targeting people I used to know, so him being close to the military base I was stationed at makes sense. The factory is what’s throwing me off. I don’t see a point in it except for hostages or worse, so I’d have to act quickly.”

His priority was to protect the well-being of innocent people. Killing Jouno came second. If the rumours were true, he could strike very soon.

After a moment, he added, “Did you check the weather?”

“You’re in luck.” Patrick pulled out his phone and showed him the weather forecast. “Bless this country for having constantly bad weather.”

With a mild frown, Tecchou nodded. “That’s perfect then.” He didn’t know if he’d meet Jouno inside a building or outside. If it was inside, he could either cut open the ceiling using his skill or force Jouno to follow him into the rain. Either way, it was a good backup to have.

A pat landed on his shoulder. “I’ll get the gasoline but you should rest for a bit and go tomorrow.”

Tecchou agreed. Although he was itching to leave, he needed the protection of the rain to carry on safely. Without that, he was afraid his chances of winning a battle were not high. Considering the state of his body, they were quite low to begin with but Tecchou wasn’t giving up. It was better to act sooner rather than later, though, since Tecchou had no clue how his health would evolve.

For the time being, it was best for him to rest, Patrick was right. Saying goodnight for now, he made his way back to the room he’d taken a shower in and lay down on the bed.

Sleeping was hard, though. The constant pain and his wounds made it almost impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in, and the insomnia that had been haunting him wouldn’t let him rest either. Tecchou stared into the dark instead, at what should be the ceiling although he couldn’t see it.

The next day, he would face Jouno again. And he would do what Olek had told him was best: kill him. It was the most rational thing to do, and nothing else mattered.

This thought drove Tecchou into a state that wasn’t quite sleeping, but not quite awake either.

Behind now closed eyelids, he saw futures that could be, but shouldn’t. He had no control over them so he watched them like a movie in a theatre where he was all alone. The screen showed scenes of himself and Jouno. Through his own eyes, in a first-person perspective unusual for a film, he saw himself kill Jouno a thousand ways. But they had two thousand peaceful futures together.

Futures that shouldn’t be.

~~~

Tecchou unsheathed his sword and laid it down on his thighs. The light reflections on the cold metal were a bit blurry, and so was everything else but he couldn’t blink it away. It was irritating but he’d just have to live with it for now. Furthermore, Tecchou chose to not mention this to Patrick when he was asked how his symptoms were. As much as he appreciated the care, he didn’t want to be told to wait any longer. He would fight now, no matter his physical condition. And he was preparing for that.

Tecchou had cut up some old bandages and dumped them in gasoline, then wrapped them around his blade. It stank horribly and Tecchou almost wished for his senses to get worse again. Although he’d probably regret that wish instantly if it were to come true.

He worked concentrated and calmly. His hands didn’t shake when preparing a weapon that would bring nothing but death. With steady fingers, he took the bandages out of the gasoline, let them drip for a bit, then wrapped and tied them around his sword. The reflections disappeared and Tecchou could no longer see his own eyes mirrored back at him. It was for the better.

Some of the bandages were cut by his sword so he had to reapply them, but he managed to cover most of his blade in the end, leaving only a few centimetres of the sharp tip. This part would be used for actual, fast injuries while the rest acted as a mix of defence as well as offence against Jouno and his ability. He had the lighter in his pocket, so it would be easy to ignite the sword before or during the fight—he just needed to be fast.

He let a good amount of gasoline drip into the scabbard, then sheathed his weapon. It was harder due to the additional layer of fabric, but still possible. Not caring about being seen with it anymore, Tecchou attached the sword to his hip just the way he used to carry it. It felt almost unfamiliar at this point. Like he was a Hunting Dog again when he was clearly not.

He looked down at himself and got a feeling of this being foreign. Not quite right. Appearing like this wasn’t him anymore but he didn’t know what to do about it. However, he’d keep it that way to enact his final strike of justice. The position of his sword on his left hip allowed him the fastest access, so he placed his knife next to it.

“Are you done?”

Patrick entered the lobby and Tecchou nodded. “All done.”

“Okay.” There was clearly more that Patrick wanted to say, but he didn’t. He most likely wanted to spiral back to Tecchou’s plan of killing Jouno and talk him out of it for irrational reasons. But he understood that Tecchou needed to place justice and fairness above all. Like people had always told him to do, and those people were right. Patrick turned around to leave, so Tecchou stood up and followed after him. He still limped slightly and every step hurt.

“Do you feel hungry? Need more sleep? Anything?” But the soldier declined all of these things. He didn’t need or want anything else at this point in time.

“I’m ready to go,” he insisted and Patrick nodded with a sigh. Tecchou could tell that he wanted him to rethink, but the fighter didn’t allow himself to think at all. He had to focus on what was right.

They left the hospital and made their way towards the edge of the city. Even though he hadn’t been able to find proper rest, the fresh air felt good on his skin and in his lungs, making him feel at least a bit more alive. He stretched his arms above his head but he was afraid that moving too much would rip open the stitches, so he dropped them again quickly.

During the fight, this would be something he couldn’t pay attention to, so his wounds reopening might be inevitable. It didn’t matter as long as he won.

Tecchou climbed over the barriers, Patrick close behind him. He did well for someone of his age but he’d probably done this hundreds of times already. Maybe he was even a bit better at it than Tecchou. But he wouldn’t let that be disheartening.

“What will become of this town now?” Tecchou asked when they left it behind them and walked towards the mine. The grass was slightly wet from morning dew whereas, above them, dark grey clouds were forming, threatening rain. Good.

Patrick shrugged. “We’ll keep living. Time will continue to pass and we’ll keep on fighting. We love our home, that’s why we’re not letting go.”

Tecchou wondered if he and Jouno had been the same. They had stayed in their hometown instead of evacuating like almost the entire rest of the survivors. A few others had joined the military as well, but civilians tended to be in the way because of their lack of proper fighting skills. Looking back, Tecchou didn’t understand why they’d chosen two children to stay and fight. He’d never been a human, let alone a child to them. He’d only been a gullible puppet with an ability and a sword too big for him.

But there was no turning back time.

“I’ll walk you to the edge of the mine,” Patrick told him. “Then I’ll say goodbye.”
“Mhm,” Tecchou agreed.

That wasn’t far. Even from here, Tecchou could see the massive excavator and he remembered the bizarre thoughts and feelings he’d had there. His mind felt clearer now, luckily—but not back to where it had been before. Focusing on only one thing helped: when he went back to not allowing himself to feel and only letting himself be guided by justice, things were a lot easier.

He wished he could’ve reached Teruko and Sigma again before doing this. Mostly for them to tell him what to do and what was right. But he hadn’t wanted to endanger the people here in case he was being tracked, and Fukuchi finding out his location could very well end badly. Tecchou would have to look into this further after everything was over and potentially warn the other Hunting Dogs about their situation. If he made it out alive, that was.

Everything was too much and too messy, so Tecchou decided to only look at the path directly in front of him for the moment.

They walked about a hundred metres more until the ground became sandy and stuck to their shoes in clumps.

“That’s it.”
“That’s it,” repeated Tecchou. He turned to Patrick and offered him a smile. “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course.” A heavy hand landed on Tecchou’s shoulder with a firm, friendly squeeze. “I hope you can find the right way. Whatever may happen, I hope you’ll find peace, too. You’re a good guy, don’t lose yourself.”

Tecchou nodded. “Thank you. I’m wishing you well. Also your wife and son, and the people back there. Thank you for helping out.”

“I’ll have a lot of stories to tell when I get home,” Patrick laughed. “Goodbye, Tecchou.”
“Goodbye.”

Another squeeze, then the hand let go. With a slightly heavy heart, Tecchou turned away from him and started walking again. He didn’t look back, but he thought to feel a pair of eyes focused on his shoulder blades.

Crossing the mine took a while, maybe half an hour or even more. When he ascended the slopes on the other side, his legs hurt and almost gave in. Tecchou, however, pushed on. The moment he stepped on steady ground, he could see the other town that was his goal. He was almost there.

The barriers were pretty much the same: graffiti and posters on everything and now Tecchou knew that those had originally been constructed to keep the people out of the cities, but they’d reclaimed them to keep themselves safe.

Tecchou slipped through a small gap and looked around.

He’d been told that the factory he was supposed to check out was in the south, so he began making his way to the left.

This place generally looked similar to the other town, but a few faces peeked through windows to look at him. They were almost ghostly, only appearing for a short moment before fading back into darkness. Their expressions were nervous—if not scared—and Tecchou looking in their direction and meeting their eyes seemed to worsen those feelings of uneasiness.

As he walked down the silent streets, rain began to fall. Thick drops landed on his hair and shoulders, as well as the ground he walked on. A trail of wet footsteps followed him.

This would be of great help, he was thankful for that weather. He pushed anything negative down.

Tecchou kept going until he spotted a building down a rather lonely road. A brutalist structure that reached about two and a half stories of a normal house but it had no outer indication of levels, as it lacked any windows at all.

A few old trucks stood in the parking lot but Tecchou was unable to see any people around.

From the gate to the driveway hung a sign with red letters, presumably reading the name of the company, but Tecchou couldn’t make much sense of the words.

As soon as he was on company grounds, he slowed down and focused on being more quiet, then walked over to the trucks. The rain hitting the metal and trailers was loud, hopefully enough to conceal some or most of Tecchou’s existence.

He’d seen an entrance earlier but he was hoping for another way to get in at the back, perhaps an emergency exit, so he pushed on.

Careful not to touch the dark concrete walls but still staying close to them, Tecchou held his breath as he tiptoed over the grass behind the building. There were a lot of spots of blank earth but no established paths, which was good for him—grass was quieter when it caught the sounds of his boots. Since the ground wasn’t soaked just yet and no puddles had formed, his steps didn’t even splash.

Tecchou made it to the back fast. An open space of mostly asphalt and another driveway leading away from the factory were all that could be found there. Water collected between the small rocks forming the ground he walked on, making parts of it almost look like a mirror that captured the grey sky at his feet.

He peeked around the corner and found a half-open garage gate.

After taking two deep breaths and putting his right hand around the handle of his sword, he approached it.

Tecchou ducked his head underneath the gate.

He found himself in a wide room with a high ceiling. His steps echoed off the blank walls, making his presence known, but that was intentional. The space left enough room for a proper fight. However, boxes in ceiling-high towers framed the hall in masses, and machines for production obstructed a lot of his view to the left and right. None of them were currently in use, though, and no workers were anywhere to be seen.

Straight ahead, next to an open cardboard box with contents Tecchou couldn’t make out properly, stood one single person.

“I’m here,” he announced loudly and took a few more steps forward before coming to a stop.

When the man, not surprised by Tecchou’s arrival, turned around to face him, there was an expression on his face that was entirely unexpected.

His eyebrows were knitted together on his forehead and his lips were one thin line before he spoke. It was a look of pure horror.

“What happened to your body, Tecchou?” His voice wavered. Tecchou closed his mind to that.

“Guess,” he simply answered, almost angrily. He didn’t have the nerve for this now.

Seeing Jouno again threatened to fill him with emotions but he swallowed them. He tightened his grip on his sword and unsheathed it.

Jouno’s frown deepened at the sound but he seemed to regain his composure from what Tecchou had assumed to be shock. His face darkened significantly and he stepped forward.

“You’re late as always. I was waiting for you,” Jouno said. Despite the ever so slight melancholy in his tone, he was catching himself and reinstalling his usual mask. Tecchou almost found himself feeling thankful for that, as it would make this easier for him.

“Of course. Who else could kill you?”

“Kill me?” He sounded mockingly offended. “I’d like to see you try!” He raised his voice with the final words, finding his way back to the person Tecchou had seen during their last encounters. Someone angry and hateful. But he didn’t deserve Tecchou’s pity any longer. He had to stop any thoughts about this.

When Tecchou took his first step, Jouno’s hand moved quickly.

As though he was trying to skip a stone on water, Jouno tossed something at him.

“Catch!”

It was small and shimmered metallically but too small to be one of his usual knives. Tecchou reacted quickly and jumped to the side to avoid it. Paying it no further mind, he kept his eyes on Jouno as that was what he needed to do.

Tecchou was charging forward in his first attack when the air behind him expanded in sudden heat.

He stumbled, trying to cover his head from any dangerous parts flying through the air. When he turned to look at what had happened, he saw the dark remnants of a flame and a circular impact cracking the floor. Tecchou didn’t have time to fully process this when he saw movement in the corner of his eye.

Jouno kept his body low and almost out of Tecchou’s sight when he appeared in front of him and launched an attack with a knife, cutting the air in a half circle.

Tecchou was barely quick enough to dodge, feeling the air pass by his face, dangerously close.

“I love the smell of your blood, Tecchou!” his opponent yelled as he used the momentum from the knife attack to spin around and aim a kick at Tecchou’s sternum. “Come dance with me!”

Tecchou was able to block in the last moment before the boot collided with his two forearms in front of his chest. Pushing back against the impact, he wanted to make Jouno lose his balance but he didn’t succeed.

So, he swung his sword from the position at the same height as his head downwards. When that missed, he backed up a few metres. It was unsafe to use his skill and extend his sword since the bandages might fall off. This would be a problem. Tecchou was an outstanding swordsman even without his skill, but a lot of his fighting did revolve around that.

“Why are you here, Jouno?” he asked when Jouno didn’t immediately attack again. “What’s in these boxes?”

“Why don’t you go have a look?” his enemy suggested.

Tecchou had considered cutting open a box during his attack but had deemed that unsafe for multiple reasons. He also didn’t want Jouno to get in between him and his only exit from this particular room, in case he had to run outside to seek protection in the rain.

Jouno let his hand dive into his pocket and scoffed when Tecchou obviously tensed at that. He revealed an object identical to what he had thrown earlier: a simple coin.

“Small, aren’t they? ‘RDG1800’, that’s what we call them. Produced here, in this very factory.” He flicked it into the air with his thumb and it landed on his flat palm. Tecchou couldn’t tell if it was head or tails and it didn’t matter. He was only here to gamble with their lives, not with coins.

“What for?” he asked.

A light shrug. “For the plan of the Decay of the Angel, of course! We’ll make this world fall apart and rebuild it until no more wars will be fought. Imagine, Tecchou! A future where people like us would never even be created! No more monsters like me and you!” He was yelling by the end and Tecchou thought the earth beneath his feet to be shaking. The volume of his voice was something he could feel in the core of his bones, as well as the contents of his words.

‘We’ll meet again in the ruins of this world.’

The bank robbery where only coins had been stolen, all bills left behind. The smuggled explosives, the factory. It all fell into place now and the reality paralysed Tecchou. He could only move his lips, tongue, and jaw. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you stupid?!” Jouno hissed. “We’re working to build a warless future!”

“With what? Bombs disguised as money?!” He could feel his chest moving fast, almost as fast as his thoughts were. “How are you gonna fight against war with that when you only create more violence?”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing as well, Tecchou?” Jouno retorted. “Fighting and killing people… Using violence to suppress and punish those you’re told are bad. I do the same! The two of us were created in violence—it’s all we know and seek. It’s our only solution. It’s what we both want, and it’s what’s best for this world.”

Tecchou tightened his grip on his sword. The anger that suddenly boiled up inside of him freed him from his invisible shackles and let him assume a fighting stance again. “I’ve had enough!”

Without regard for what Jouno had been saying, Tecchou ran towards him. He forced himself to be faster and stronger—because it clearly hadn’t been enough.

Three slashes with his sword in quick succession. Two missed, one went right through Jouno, who did the absolute minimum to avoid him.

The moment his sword left Jouno’s body and Tecchou was at his most unbalanced, Jouno landed a kick against his stomach.

Tecchou felt himself fall to the floor and slide two metres, holding his stomach with his free hand while trying not to throw up. There was warm liquid running over the skin beneath his t-shirt and the fabric couldn’t absorb it at the same pace as it spilled from the wound.

For a moment, his sight went blurry but he was able to see a figure that could only be Jouno approach him fast.

Tecchou was given no time to recover before two hands wrapped around his neck. Reflexively, he gasped for air but the hands never restricted his breathing. He immediately tried to kick him off, but his foot went through Jouno’s torso.

“Hold still,” Jouno said through gritted teeth but Tecchou wasn’t having any of this. He used his sword and aimed at Jouno’s head, phasing through it once more. And yet, his opponent’s hands didn’t close.

Jouno scoffed and shook his head, seemingly not believing his own actions—or the lack thereof. Tecchou used this opportunity to roll to the side, throwing his opponent off. He came to his feet but so did Jouno, even faster as he wasn’t as incapacitated as the Hunting Dog was.

Two knives flew his way, thrown almost without care or precision, yet fast. Tecchou parried with his sword and heard them fall to the ground.

“I thought you wanted me to die,” he challenged. “All those years ago, this is what you said to me. But you can’t even finish the job!”

Jouno slightly leaned his head to the side. “Can you do it, though?”

Charging forward, Tecchou had to dodge another coin bomb. He assumed that Jouno used them less than his knives due to the noise hurting him as well. Accidentally activating the boxes around them and causing a chain of explosions that would kill them both also posed a threat.

The coin blew up close to him.

When Tecchou’s ears rang and his head began pounding with pain, his sight became even more clouded. It was less the fire itself that gave him a hard time, and he was sure it was the same for Jouno.

Thus, the next knife was hard to see, and Tecchou was late to avoid it. It barely scraped his shoulder but he held his breath anyway. Like during his encounter with Hoffmann, the lack of enhancements made him feel a lot more vulnerable, slow, and powerless—he hadn’t had the time to get used to this feeling he hadn’t experienced in five years: being no more than human.

He got close to Jouno and let his sword slice through him. It was pointless. There was no way he’d be able to kill him like this, so he would make sure to make his temporary retreat look natural. When his opponent grabbed a knife and countered the attack, Tecchou took a few quick steps back and grabbed the lighter from his pocket in one motion.

Jouno didn’t want to give him any time to move, so another coin flew his way. Wanting to dodge, Tecchou was about to jump sideways, expecting the bomb to explode on the floor behind him.

But it ignited pre-maturely, still in the air, closely in front of him. It barely gave him time to raise his arm in defence.

Tecchou yelped when the shockwave threw him backwards. Despite their small size, the bombs were able to do quite a bit of damage. He found himself kneeling on the ground with his left sleeve partially burnt off, exposing freshly wounded skin underneath.

“Fuck,” he swore as his blurry eyes scanned the wound but he couldn’t see any details beyond red, deep pink, and a bit of black inside from flying slivers of metal. Countless pieces ranging from the size of dust to splinters a few millimetres big had pierced his exposed flesh. It hurt when he twisted his wrist and the skin was moved over his muscles and bones.

He glanced at Jouno, who still stood at a safe distance, then he whipped his head around. He hadn’t considered this before. His assumption that the bombs exploded upon harsh impact had been proven wrong—someone had to activate them, and since Jouno’s hands had been occupied with throwing knives or bombs, as well as fighting in close-range combat, he didn’t think that Jouno was doing it himself.

That clown again. Cameras were the most obvious answer in a factory like this one.

“Hey, eyes on me!” Jouno yelled and a knife cut through the air. Tecchou was barely able to roll to the side, hissing when his wound touched the floor.

He had to push himself up to get to his feet and he finally flipped open the lighter to hold it near the sword. The gasoline-drenched bandages caught fire immediately and Jouno took a step back when the sudden source of heat became noticeable to him as well.

His face visibly darkened against the bright yellow flames.

“You’re more observant than I thought.” Confirming Tecchou’s theories about his skill. He put the lighter back into his pocket and grabbed his blade with both hands before running towards Jouno. The fire would only last so long, meaning he had to act fast.

Tecchou raised his sword above his head and attempted a cut from the top down but Jouno avoided him perfectly. Tecchou, however, wasn’t done yet. He stopped his blade at the bottom, put a foot forward to stabilise his stance and shift his weight, before cutting up diagonally.

Jumping back, Jouno cursed and tried to get away from Tecchou as fast as possible, but the former soldier followed him with an onslaught of merciless strikes that were meant to be fast and wide rather than precise.

Jouno was stumbling back like a scared dog, unable to take shelter, but Tecchou closed off his mind to his cornered expression.

He swung his weapon again, leaving his body wide open for attacks—it was what he’d always done in the military, as his skill and the enhancements had protected him from any serious harm. But now, it was a bad habit that Jouno made use of.

The heel of a boot buried itself in Tecchou’s stomach again.

The soldier was sure he heard the stitches rip apart in the direct area of the impact while the ones close to it tore his skin open.

He collapsed onto his knees immediately, throwing up nothing at all on the floor. He needed to catch his breath, fast. Get up again. Keep going. He had the upper hand, he could win this. The same boot collided with his jaw and he felt his head hit the floor a moment later.

Disoriented, Tecchou struggled to figure out where up and down were, even when a side of his body was pressed to the concrete. He couldn’t move and everything was blurry and spinning. Blood trickled from his mouth and stomach, as well as from a wound on the side of his head.

The tip of a shoe rolled him onto his back, then the sole was placed on his chest. Jouno leaned down but Tecchou could barely make out the expression on his face.

“See? Without all the military nonsense, you’re nothing. But they’re still in your head. It’s worthless, though. It’s not helping you.”

Tecchou stared up at him.

Nothing.

The word echoed in his mind.

He hadn’t been fighting well, that was undeniable. Everything that had felt freeing about losing the enhancements was now gone. He was weak without them. Nothing.

He thought that he’d finally left this behind and became a person. But what was the point of that if he was weak?

Tecchou stilled for a moment. A person. Was he one? All he’d done was listen to what people told him to do. He’d wanted to start thinking on his own, but had he truly? Tecchou tightened the grip on his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to stop thinking. He had to finish this. Jouno would never see him as anything but weak—being in the military made him weak, being out of it made him weak. All his enemy was trying to do was to get into his head. That was all.

Tecchou had to kill him to end that weakness.

He cut through the air and Jouno was forced to jump back.

A knife came flying as a response and it pierced Tecchou’s thigh. He got to his feet nevertheless.

Maybe he should be incapable of thinking for himself—he liked thinking of himself as mindless, even when he’d still been making his own decisions, sometimes even going as far as to question orders. But he found comfort in not seeing himself that way.

He was in this situation only because he’d allowed himself to think and feel too much. Or at all. Those rare moments of him making decisions were now leading to his demise.

But was that really true? Hadn’t it been the Colonel’s words and wishes that had led to him pushing Jouno away? Being told not to think or feel, and that the military and authority were always right? Hadn’t his eyes been opened when he’d started to question them? Wasn’t that the right path?

Tecchou needed to stop thinking. Just for now. Until Jouno was dead. Then, when all of this was done, he would allow himself to reconsider everything and drown in deeper regret.

No thinking, no feeling. He took his thoughts about killing Jouno and let them guide his body. The death that had been dripping onto his naked skin closed its hands around Tecchou’s. It fuelled the fire and guided him when he jumped up almost blindly.

It pushed him back onto his feet and forward. Tecchou let it lead him. His hands gripped the handle tightly, his arms moved to the right, preparing for a long, wide cut.

It felt good. Like the actions weren’t his own, so they were secure. He was purely an extension of the things people said and wanted to do, but couldn’t act on themselves. Tecchou was their weapon. His arms moved from the right to the left, in a half-circle in front of his chest. The flames flickered at his speed but neither he nor the fire stopped.

There was minimal resistance but Tecchou knew he cut something. He saw the red spill and heard Jouno’s scream somewhere far away and out of his mind’s reach.

Only when his arms and sword had completed that movement did he stop.

Jouno was on the floor, on his knees, holding his chest. Blood soaked his white button up but the edges of the cut fabric were black and burnt. Only the tip of his sword that was barely engulfed in flames had hit Jouno, but the damage was obvious.

Agony filled the air and the invisible hands wanted Tecchou to put Jouno out of that misery and avenge those he’d killed. He raised his sword once again.

He looked down at his opponent. But Jouno appeared to have no face.

It was a mask of only flesh with no distinguishable features. His voice was a generic sound, the key one pressed right in the middle of a piano. He couldn’t identify it at all, it had no person connected to it.

The criminal tried to crawl back and held his hands up to lessen the merciless sword that was coming for him. Finally, Tecchou wasn’t a wounded animal anymore—and Jouno wasn’t a predator. At last, their roles were reversed and it was now on Tecchou to shoot him dead. To cut him down and devour his raw flesh down to the bones.

His prey didn’t beg or plea because that was above him and he knew Tecchou wouldn’t listen anyway. Tecchou was justice, and that was what was coming for this man.

Tecchou was nothing. Jouno was nothing. And this was the end of both of them.

The voice that had been screaming in pain formed a word. It was a weird word, still not taking the shape of desperation.

A simple call of Tecchou’s name.

He tossed his sword to the side. Metal hit asphalt and repelled from the ground once before sliding away. But his eyes were elsewhere.

“Jouno!”

Tecchou bolted forward and came to a rough stop on his knees, the impact ripping his skin open.

Jouno recoiled. He tried to crawl back further and Tecchou let him, giving him space.

That’s when he began to feel dizzy. He’d messed up. Completely. Everything he had ever done from that point when he was eleven had been a mistake. He should have agreed to leave the town with Jouno. He shouldn’t have tried to prove himself to the Colonel. He shouldn’t have left Jouno at seventeen. And now, he shouldn’t have attacked Jouno and tried to kill him.

Jouno had called it being a mindless dog. And he had been right all along. Tecchou could see it now and make full sense of it. He could see it in the fear written all over the face of the man he’d once called a friend, the man who’d told him about the love he’d held for him. Tecchou hadn’t become nothing—but instead something much, much worse. Being nothing had been comforting, but what he was now drove him to lose every last thing that was important to him.

He felt conflicted, constantly getting torn apart. He wanted it to stop and cut the ties and hands that were pulling him in all directions. His mind raced. There was no way out for him. No solution to come up with. There were too many and they tugged at him until his limbs were ripped off and let him bleed out.

“Jouno.” This time he didn’t yell. His voice broke in the middle of the word and was followed by a dry sob. Usually, he’d see himself as pathetic but he truly couldn’t care about that anymore. He was too tired to care, too confused, too angry at himself. Tecchou had nothing, and the last thing he had was slipping through his fingers again. All because of his own actions.

“I’m sorry,” the words came over his lips and he just let them. If Jouno decided to kill him after all, he first needed to hear this. If he decided to leave Tecchou here, he still wanted him to know these things. Strings of sounds fell out of his mouth and he didn’t know if they made any sense. They were a million and a half apologies, sometimes yelled, sometimes in tearless sobs, sometimes in a desperate laugh.

He forced himself to line the following words in an order that made sense and let them fall again. “I didn’t know what we were getting into when the war reached us.”

Tecchou felt like collapsing but he forced himself to look at Jouno. He needed to see his face, even though it was blurry. If there was hatred, he wanted to see it. Because he deserved nothing more than that. It was his punishment.

For the Hunting Dogs, failure meant punishment. In Tecchou’s life, this was a rule. So he wanted Jouno to penalise all of his wrongdoings with his hatred.

“I was blinded by the Colonel, I thought I could do something and change things, but I was too stupid!” The Colonel had always had this inhumane shine to him. He was otherworldly, a person nobody could ever match. His memories of him were untainted, but his face was that of the devil now.

“I pulled you into all of this. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t go on without you! You always had my back but when you needed me, I wasn’t there for you.” He remembered Jouno. Scared, cowering on the floor in terror. Telling him about the changes he had noticed within his mind. But Tecchou had been too blinded by the good he thought he’d been doing. He’d been too selfish.

“I always pushed everything onto you. And then I didn’t listen to you after the war either. You wanted the best for me and I disregarded you, I ran away from the responsibility of fixing what I’d broken. I was already guilt-ridden and I thought that I could change things, but it only made everything worse. I left. And when you were arrested, I did nothing. The week you were released I reached out to you but it was too late already. It was stupid of me to act like nothing happened, I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

There were no tears. Tecchou wanted to cry—he felt like it, but he couldn’t. No tears would fall. Maybe he didn’t deserve to cry, as he’d always seen it as a sign of self-pity more than anything. And the only person who deserved his pity and sympathy was Jouno.

“I can finally see it. You were right. I was doing nothing but mindlessly following orders. I tried to break out of it, but I don’t know if that’s possible. I keep falling back in. Maybe I’m too far gone, maybe it’s useless. I can’t fix it. I let it get the best of me again and again. I don’t even think I’m a real person at this point.”

He took a deep breath. It was shaky and threatened to become uncontrolled but he forced himself to keep it together. Jouno deserved more than a mess in front of him. He deserved so much more than Tecchou could ever offer to him. The Hunting Dog had been nothing but a constant nuisance, even a threat. He was the root of all problems. He wished to vanish, but Tecchou wasn’t done talking yet.

“I’m sorry, Jouno.” The words hurt in his throat but he could almost laugh when they came out.

Jouno, who had sat still this entire time, could finally hear him. He was listening. And it wasn’t because he was forced to—he wanted to listen. They both knew that Jouno could run now and that he was a lot less injured than the soldier. Take a knife and drive it through Tecchou’s heart or set his body ablaze with a single coin. But he chose not to. At last, he listened.

“I can’t fix things anymore and I’m so sorry for what I’ve done, and what I’ve failed to do.”

Tecchou felt like he was floating but the pain throbbing in his entire body kept him somewhat grounded. And so did the expression that he was faced with, even though he was unable to read it.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’ve continuously made things worse for you. If you wish to kill me, please do so. Don’t hesitate. I will not beg you to do it. I won’t ask anything of you ever again. I’m sorry, Jouno.”

He lowered his body until his forehead touched the ground in a deep bow. The curve of his back and shoulders moved unsteadily with the quick breaths he sucked in after talking to the point of losing air. His legs shook and his aching and exhausted limbs didn’t allow him to do it properly, but he was hoping to at least make Jouno understand his sincerity.

Jouno was silent. That was okay. Tecchou didn’t expect him to say or do anything besides ending his life and burning down the place, or simply leaving.

So, he almost jumped when a hand was placed on the back of his head. It didn’t press his face down, just rested there.

“You destroyed everything I had. You were a threat to me, Tecchou,” Jouno mumbled. His words were hesitant as though he was unsure if he really wanted to speak them. “But when my father- when all of that happened, you were there. And it changed me. And then the Great War came and I, again, changed. But that time I didn’t have your support.”

He swallowed thickly while Tecchou carefully listened to any word he was saying, holding his breath in fear that he’d miss anything or disturb Jouno.

“I accepted this new version of myself because that stability was all I had. It gave me power, even. Power over others and myself. My own body and mind were all I was left with while you let them take yours away from you. I took them back from my father and the military. Once again, you are disruptive.”

The hand closed in a fist around his hair but it didn’t pull enough to hurt. Jouno let go fast and let his palm rest there again. It was a gesture as tired as his voice. Exhausted, defeated, wounded.

“And yet, I can’t kill you. I was hoping for you to start this fight with a killing intent so I could have a good reason to do it, be it as an act of self-defence or an attack. You’ve been a source of both stability and instability for me.” He swallowed thickly. “I’ve been struggling to understand this because I wanted to hate you. I wanted you to die. I constructed a person in my mind that had your voice, and I hated that person. But when I met you again this puppet crumbled.”

Jouno laughed dryly. “You can’t imagine how much I tried. And I failed, time and time again. I had to rethink everything. I started killing people who weren’t my enemies to make you hurt like you hurt me, but I don’t think it was ever on purpose—what you did. You hurt me. But you never truly meant to.” He sighed deeply and bit his tongue, careful of what he wanted to say next. For a moment, he seemed to reconsider his words. The hand on Tecchou’s hair got lighter and he thought it would disappear, but then it didn’t.

“And even if you did, we were both just children.”

A first sob shook Tecchou’s body and he finally looked up, making Jouno drop his hand. Tecchou blinked and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“We were just children,” he repeated and Jouno nodded. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t resent me for any of this.”

“There was nothing either of us could have done in this war, we could barely be there for each other. And that’s what I wasn’t able to understand for so long. When I think back, I fail to remember us the way we were before all of that. My mind inserts my current, adult self into these situations where I was ten, eleven, twelve at most. I think of you the same way, too. It’s an adult version of you that pushes me away. But it wasn’t an adult who made the decisions you made. It was a child. You were stupid. You hurt me. But I need to remember why.”

Tecchou wiped more tears from his cheeks. Merely eleven years old. It hurt to think about the time he had lost—both of them. They had never graduated, never got to pick a university.

Tecchou wished for a mundane life. A normal childhood. He wanted to go to school, he wanted his mother to read him stories before bed. He wanted to move in with Jouno for university, he wanted to grow old with him.

Those wishes ran through his fingers like sand.

“I’m sorry, Jouno,” Tecchou sobbed. “I should’ve asked you to flee with me but I dragged you into all of this.”

Jouno sighed. “That can’t be undone now. But I also understand why. I think losing our home and our families was too much to bear. You were angry, rightfully so. Traumatised, deeply scared. That’s why you wanted to fight. And I wanted to fight, too. The people around us were the ones who wronged us. The adults who decided to use you for your skill and me for my senses. Our actions now are our own responsibility but… I can understand you, Tecchou. I think I always have.”

A nod. “I also understand you. You wanted me to hurt like I hurt you, and you hoped I’d stay away from you if you kept this up. I don’t condone whatever you did but—I can understand you.”

Another sob shook his body. Tecchou had never been embarrassed to cry in front of Jouno. After all, he had seen Jouno cry quite a few times as well, mostly about a year after they had first met and Jouno grew more comfortable around him.

But now, he felt weird. Despite them being open with each other, Jouno still felt foreign. It would probably take Tecchou a while to get used to him again. If Jouno even let him.

“Why are you crying?” Jouno asked after a minute. He showed little emotion at this moment, but Tecchou thought to hear a slight shake in his voice. Not an angry one, as his voice was low and melancholic, carrying the weight of a thousand deaths. Not the ones committed by Jouno, but by those around him.

“I just—” Tecchou tried to get his thoughts in order and put them into words. There was too much he still wanted to say but nothing coherent could come out of it. “Everything has been falling apart and I don’t know what to do. It should feel wrong to talk to you like this. I should kill you. But I can’t. I don’t want to. And these thoughts are why I deserve nothing but death.”

He should grab his sword and stab it through the stitches in his abdomen. There was nothing else left for him to do if Jouno didn’t kill him.

Jouno merely sighed.

“I know. That’s why I understand you, Tecchou. We’ve both set unattainable expectations for ourselves—born from whatever was left of us after the war. I hate that you bring out change in me but I think I just need to let it happen. And you should do the same,” he told him. “I’m also being pulled in all directions. I want to forgive you, I want to keep carrying that rage. I still somehow believe that I’m capable of killing you. I’ll need time to settle my thoughts but I don’t know if we have any. Or if I even want to make up my mind.”

Talking with Jouno calmly was wrong. Both because of everything that had happened, but it also left Tecchou with a sour taste in his mouth. A part of himself told him Jouno was lying. He was being manipulated because having an understanding conversation with him—Jouno being vulnerable—wasn’t possible. He hated himself for that twisted view of his former friend. Of that friend who’d cried in front of him, who’d been the one to need comfort but also comforted Tecchou.

There was a reason behind Jouno’s usual attitude and they both knew this, and yet his mind still denied all of that in favour of making him a criminal.

Tecchou nodded, unable to speak through his tears and through his guilt of everything. A hand was placed on his shoulder with a light squeeze. It was shaking a bit as well. When Tecchou blinked and saw clearly for a second, he thought to see Jouno cry as well. Maybe it was just a fleeting hallucination, though.

He scooted a bit closer to Jouno and put his hand on the man’s biceps.

“I don’t want you to take that sword, Tecchou. Not to turn it against yourself, at least. A part of me is willing to try to let go of the past. You’ve shown remorse and apologised, which is what I was seeking. I don’t know if I can find full forgiveness, though.”

Tecchou was unsure if ‘letting go of the past’ entailed letting go of Tecchou as well. Shaking his head, he tried to get his thoughts in order but he was all over the place, more than ever. He was still being torn in all directions and he was unsure what direction would come out the next time he opened his mouth.

“I’ll leave the military for good,” he managed, although his voice sounded awful. “And I ask you to turn your back on whatever organisation you’re in right now. Leave with me.”

Tecchou remembered how just a few minutes ago, he’d decided that he wouldn’t make demands ever again. How he wanted to take his life. Or wanted to end Jouno’s. All of them were ideal solutions to him momentarily but then they ended up irrational just a second later. This one didn’t, though: they needed to get away again. Together, just once more.

“Tecchou, I—” Jouno shook his head lightly, then turned it away from Tecchou for a moment. He let go of his shoulder and placed his hand on his own lap. He seemed to think about it and the wheels turning in his head were almost audible. Tecchou was glad about that—he didn’t want him to agree to something big like this without giving it much thought. He knew how important stability was to Jouno and once again being the one to rip him away from it felt wrong.

Finally, Jouno faced him again. “If I let you live but stick with the Decay of the Angel, I’m afraid you’ll follow me to the end of the world like a shadow, and that’d be a pain. Besides that, I think they won’t take me back at this point, so I have no other choice. But no promises that I’ll go anywhere with you, you got that?!” In the final phrase, his voice had the usual bite that Tecchou was so used to with Jouno. He wasn’t yelling in anger but he didn’t sound exhausted anymore. He was just the Jouno that Tecchou had always known.

“That’s okay.” He smiled.

The corners of Jouno’s mouth twitched as well but before that could develop into anything akin to a softer expression, he suddenly grabbed a handful of Tecchou’s hair.

Not even a heartbeat later, his face met with the concrete floor rather harshly.

Simultaneously, Jouno yelled something but it wasn’t audible over the noise ripping through the air, leaving a familiar ringing in Tecchou’s ears and causing his breath to be caught in his throat.

A gunshot.

The hand disappeared from his head but before Tecchou could raise it again, something else pressed him down. Jouno’s body was over his head and parts of his back when the ground shook. A second, even louder noise sounded through the factory and Tecchou felt the familiar burst of sudden heat coming from his left.

Despite his lack of orientation, Tecchou managed to sit up when Jouno did so first. He saw Jouno shout something at him but couldn’t hear him. Instead, he hazily looked at where the explosion had happened. One of the boxes had exploded and all coins had broken into thousands of pieces.

He inspected his body and noticed the shards and splinters in his side and leg. He hadn’t even felt them through the shock and the general pain in his limbs. Wondering if any of these had reached deep enough to damage important organs, Tecchou poked at a few bleeding wounds when Jouno grabbed his chin and made him look in the other direction, to his right.

Fuck.

Tecchou understood immediately. He saw the Clown. The remote in his hand.

He glanced at Jouno and saw all the blood on his clothes and skin from the splinters that had hit him—far more than Tecchou, as he’d covered his body with his own. There was no time to thank him, however.

Forcing himself onto his feet, he pulled Jouno up by the wrist and ran towards the exit.

While regaining his hearing, he could make out his own steps on the asphalt and ecstatic laughter behind him. It made him push further, commanding his legs to go faster.

The exit. It was coming closer. Tecchou looked behind him and saw Jouno following him. When he turned his head back to where he was headed, his stomach dropped.

“Where do you guys think you’re going?”

Jouno almost bumped into Tecchou when they both stopped suddenly. Freeing his wrist from Tecchou’s grip, he pushed past him.

“Gogol, get out of our way,” Jouno threatened. “Now.”

“Not so fast! You didn’t even say goodbye to me!” Gogol wiped a non-existent tear from his cheek before his demeanour changed again. It made a shiver run down Tecchou’s spine when the flip was switched from this happily playful persona to something dark and serious with a voice so deep Tecchou could feel it in every fibre of his body.

“I told you that I’d kill him if you can’t. Also that I’d kill you if you crossed Dostoy’s plans.” His face was utterly terrifying with an expression that Tecchou couldn’t even see as something coming from a human being. It was inhumane, warped to the point of being unrecognisable. “Two birds with one stone!”

Gogol thought for a moment. “Or—two traitors to Kamui with one bomb!”

With his thumb, Gogol flicked a coin at them. Tecchou immediately jumped left while Jouno went right.

The coin exploded between them and Tecchou felt a few tiny pieces of metal pierce his calf. Jouno was no better off. He landed on the floor and held his leg.

Tecchou whipped his head around and looked at Gogol again.
“‘Traitors to Kamui’?” he asked.

“Aw,” Gogol pouted. “Hasn’t he told you yet? The leader of the Decay of the Angel and the Commander of the Hunting Dogs—they are the same person!”

All blood in Tecchou’s veins froze and so did his heart. No, that couldn’t be. He had figured that there was something more to Fukuchi but not this. Anything but this. It made no sense, he couldn’t find the connection.

With wide eyes, Tecchou looked at Jouno, who was getting to his feet as well.

“Jouno, is this—”

“How do you know that?!” Jouno yelled at Gogol instead, confirming Tecchou’s question automatically. “He always wore a mask around you, concealing his identity was important for the plan!”

Gogol raised his shoulders and arms in a harmless shrug. “Do you really think you’re the only one who knew? Nuh-uh!”

Jouno gritted his teeth, seemingly trying to think of something to retort but he probably realised that there was no use talking to this man, as he wouldn’t get any information out of him anyway.

They needed to get out of this building. That was their highest objective. The explosives could easily be deadly for both him and Jouno, whereas Gogol could simply use his skill to dodge or flee. But he was also blocking the door.

Tecchou hadn’t yet been able to grasp the scope of his skill, so coming up with a plan against him was rather hard, especially considering their weakened states. Luckily, Jouno was a bit more familiar with him.

“Tecchou!” Jouno shouted without losing his focus on Gogol. “Run to your sword and pay me no mind!”

He immediately did what he was told. Why? His mind plagued him with questions he shouldn’t think about. Was he still a dog without thought? No. He trusted Jouno, they were equals here. Would Jouno betray him right this moment? But Tecchou had a negative answer to that as well. Jouno would do his part—they’d work together. This was their fight and Jouno didn’t send him into battle for greed or money, and he didn’t expect Tecchou to give up his autonomy, body, and mind.

Although fighting noises arose behind him, Tecchou didn’t turn around. He saw his sword still lying where he’d tossed it earlier. The flames had long gone out, but they wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

Tecchou grabbed it and made a deep U-turn in the same move, then his eyes were finally on Jouno and Gogol again.

Jouno held two daggers he hadn’t used before, one in each hand in a reverse grip. Whenever he tried to hit or cut Gogol, a portal would open and Jouno almost targeted himself instead, but dodged his own weapons using his skill.

Neither of them seemed to have harmed the other yet. It was a game of who would make the first mistake.

Tecchou decided to intervene at once, ripping the half-burnt bandages off his blade.

Using his skill felt so familiar and foreign at the same time—it had been a while, but he’d truly missed the security of being able to rely on the full scope of his abilities in combat. Tecchou let his sword extend, aiming straight at the two fighters.

Trust. Tecchou trusted Jouno and Jouno trusted Tecchou, otherwise, neither of them would have ever turned their backs to each other, even if it was only out of the convenience of fighting a common enemy.

The tip of his sword was quiet and cut through the air like it was nothing. A wild hawk hunting its prey.

Warning Jouno would be stupid, as any audio signal would be picked up by Gogol as well, so all Tecchou could do was hold his breath when his sword finally reached them.

It passed through Jouno’s back while he was still in motion to kick Gogol. But Jouno remained unharmed.

Tecchou allowed himself to breathe again and his heart skipped a beat, but his excitement didn’t last long. Instead of targeting Gogol as intended and catching him by surprise, the tip of his sword suddenly pierced his own foot.

“Grah—!" With a short scream, Tecchou let his weapon return to its normal length and yanked it out of his foot while he sank to one knee.

“Oops!” Gogol giggled. “I didn’t see you there!”

Tecchou couldn’t take any time to recover because, in the next moment, a boot struck his jaw. He found himself on all fours again, temporarily unable to move.

Think! He had to think! While Jouno and Gogol were fighting a few metres from him, he had to come up with something. But he couldn’t…

A disembodied fist almost punched his weakened stomach from below, but Tecchou dropped to the side just in time to avoid it.

The fist disappeared and instead, a knee that Gogol could spare at that moment hit the underside of his chin. Tecchou’s neck snapped back painfully.

This man’s moves were just as unpredictable to Tecchou as his personality was. It was truly a pain, so he needed to come up with something better. He couldn’t communicate with Jouno about what they could do, and he didn’t know if Jouno relied on him to do anything. But something had to happen in order to win this.

Tecchou glanced around, then slowly formed a plan in his mind.

He forced himself onto his feet even though he could barely stand. With a tight grip on his sword, he started running to the right as fast as he could but once again, Gogol cut off his way. This time, however, it was his entire body appearing in front of Tecchou and not just a single, lazy limb.

“Hey there!” A portal opened and a gun was pointed at Tecchou. He really didn’t want to waste any more time.

Tecchou tried to stop, stumbled, almost fell. His heart pounded in fear when he saw Gogol’s index finger pull the trigger, right in front of him.

The shot didn’t kill him, though. The gun was pushed to the side by a knife being thrown at it to redirect the shot, which now should’ve hit the wall next to him. Instead, Jouno screamed and Tecchou saw him hold his thigh with his empty hand, blood painting his fingers red.

“Jouno!” A step in his direction but Gogol got in between them. Tecchou reacted at once and aimed his sword at his head. The Clown ducked, his hat comically staying in place above the cut while his hair disappeared and reappeared below the blade as it passed by him.

Tecchou had foreseen that move. His sabre had extended at the exact moment Gogol had been unable to see it, and the tip was immediately headed for his opponent’s back.

This time, it hit its target.

His sword pierced into Gogol’s torso from behind and Tecchou pushed on until it came out visible to him on the other side.

Much to Tecchou’s dismay, there was no blood on it at all. He wanted to cut him into pieces then and there, letting his sword fly through him with several more attacks. Gogol, however, merely laughed.

“Ohhhh, you’re an entertaining one! No wonder Jouno wanted you to be his plaything!”
“Shut up!” His sword retracted and he performed a diagonal slash, missing again.

“But if I hurt you, will you give him the sounds he loves?”

A sudden gunshot echoed through the factory, one that Tecchou hadn’t seen coming. He screamed, collapsed, held his right calf in pain.

Looking up, Gogol wasn’t where he’d been a moment ago. He was crouching down behind Jouno with his hands holding his shoulders.

“What do you think?” the Clown asked. “Or was that not enough for you just yet? Should I do it again? Maybe you’ll be able to join in on the fun, too!”

“Get off me!” Jouno tried to elbow him but Gogol didn’t even need his skill to avoid that. He grabbed Jouno’s chin and held him in place.
Leaning his head against Jouno’s with his mouth close to his ear, he announced loudly, to make Tecchou listen as well, “If you use your skill or try to get away, I’ll kill him instantly, alright? Or vice-versa.”

Jouno stilled and Gogol immediately looked satisfied.

“This is so unlike the ‘you’ I knew!” he giggled but Jouno didn’t bother to answer him. His expression was mad, a deep fury written across his features. He hated anger and usually tried to suppress it, Tecchou knew as much. But he evidently wasn’t able to do it this time.

“Hey now…” Gogol pouted. He summoned a knife out of thin air and threateningly held it to his former partner’s throat. Teasing at first like he was playing harmless games, then increasing his force until he was almost violent. The blade drew blood. More and more trickled, then ran down Jouno’s neck. Tecchou wanted to move and hurt Gogol, wanted to make him stop, but he couldn’t.

Jouno didn’t move either. He let it happen despite the pained expression on his face. He was calm as though he was sure that Gogol wouldn’t kill him, despite the now copious amount of blood running down his skin. He was seething but keeping still. It was a test and both Jouno and Tecchou thought they could pass by simply staying silent and not moving.

But that only angered the Clown.

With a flick of his wrist, he cut up the side of Jouno’s neck in a straight, vertical line. Jouno swore with a strained scream as blood coloured his formerly white button-up in a fresh red. He still didn’t move, however. His hands trembled in fists but Gogol’s knife was still pressed into the wound he’d just cut open with a cathartic look on his face.

“Jouno!” Tecchou heard himself yell, and Gogol stopped at once as though he’d been the one addressed. He withdrew the knife but didn’t release Jouno. The loss of the metal allowed for more blood to escape, so the man carrying the wound pressed a hand to it. Nevertheless, red continued to spill and soon slipped through his fingers.

Tecchou’s focus was entirely on that scene. On how uncomfortable and almost scared Jouno looked, combined with the pain. Although, beyond the earlier scream, he was trying to hide it and sucked it up. Gogol, who only seemed to become more entertained by the second, fed off that pain he was causing. It made Tecchou’s anger rise even more but he couldn’t allow himself to move.

He only noticed that the Clown’s other arm was gone when his own sword pierced his hand and the cement underneath, pinning him to the floor.

Simultaneously, a scream erupted from Tecchou’s lungs, so loud that it shook himself and Jouno to the core—he could see it clearly on his face, all the while Gogol laughed into Jouno’s ear. It was hard to see if the wide smile reached Gogol’s eyes—they were completely fixed on Jouno as he waited for a reaction. They appeared almost completely wight and animalistic.

“Wasn’t that delightful?” he asked. “We can forget about all of this and go back to normal! Don’t you want to think this over again, Saigiku?” He pronounced every syllable and dragged them out oh-so sweetly and affectionately. And yet, there was pure venom on his tongue.

Tecchou’s eyes widened and he could feel the hairs on his entire body stand up.

“Keep that name out of your mouth!” Jouno growled in response.

“Ohhh scary dog!” Gogol nestled to Jouno as though he was an actual animal. A pet to play with.

The blood in Tecchou’s veins began to boil and he saw red. His free hand grabbed the handle of his sword and he forced it out of the floor and his hand, then jumped to his feet.

Gogol cocked his head to the side.
“Maybe I should’ve started by hurting you, Saigiku, to hear some real screams from him, huh?”

Tecchou’s legs carried him across the room on their own, despite their struggle to keep him upright. Jouno, of course, had long noticed that. He rammed his head into Gogol’s face and used his skill to get out of his grip.

Keeping his promise, Gogol immediately aimed the gun at Tecchou. He did, however, not anticipate that Tecchou wouldn’t run towards him.

The soldier made a sharp turn as soon as he saw that Jouno was free and ran for the boxes of explosive coins.

The shot was fired behind him, but in the sudden confusion and with Jouno attacking him, Gogol missed.

With a precise jump, Tecchou dove into a gap between what was more like a wall of boxes rather than simple stacks, and disappeared. He could hear Jouno doing everything in his power to stop Gogol from diverting his attention and going after Tecchou again.

He was struggling. It was audible in the small grunts and heavier breaths and the pained hisses with nearly every movement.

Tecchou was running out of time. Grabbing his scabbard, he sheathed his sword once and unsheathed it again almost immediately. When he deemed it not enough just yet, he ripped it off his belt and poured the last bits of the gasoline still left onto his blade.

He held his scabbard between his elbow and body while he grabbed his lighter with a quick hand. The sword went up in flames just a second later and Tecchou slipped back through the gap.

He bolted across the room as quickly as he could. There was no use in calling it running anymore, as he was limping too hard to identify a set pattern of steps.

When he saw what Tecchou was doing, Gogol tried to reach him again—Jouno was in the way, however.

“Stop that!” the Clown screamed but there was no way Tecchou would listen to a man like him, even though he might be the more rational one in this particular situation. When he deemed the distance at least semi-safe, he flipped his sword into a reverse grip. As though he was throwing a spear, Tecchou positioned his legs and raised his arm to the height of his head.

He didn’t give himself any time to breathe since everything happened in the span of a heartbeat.

“Now!” he yelled from a full chest the moment he finished the throwing motion and any feeling of the hilt in his hand vanished. Tecchou turned around immediately so he couldn’t see if Gogol was able to stop the sword or not.

He took the lighter, and his scabbard was ignited shortly. With a heavily beating heart, he tossed it onto the next small box of explosives. Then, he made his way to the door.

Around him, towers of containers disappeared in shimmering portals, one by one. But not all were safe. When Tecchou spotted Jouno, he heard the first explosion along with an excruciating, high-pitched scream that could only come from Gogol.

“Hurry up!” Jouno yelled but he intuitively covered his head when another explosion shook the building. Like popcorn, single coins blowing up turned into masses.

Clenching his jaw, Tecchou did everything in his power to pick up the pace. His body screamed at him to let it go and just collapse until the flames ate him alive and the ruins of this building became his grave. But he saw Jouno standing there, waiting for him. He could’ve run and escaped all alone, but he hadn’t. So, Tecchou pushed on. If not for himself, then for Jouno.

At last, Tecchou reached him.

Another big explosion. This time, it seemed to set off a chain of several more with the same force behind them, and the millions of metal slivers that flew everywhere hit them. Jouno fell but Tecchou roughly grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back up. Only a few more metres until the exit.

They pushed on.

Tecchou grabbed the back of Jouno’s shirt and half-shoved him towards the exit.

They stumbled, pushed and dragged, and supported one another.

Two metres. The walls began to collapse around them. Bits and pieces that fell from the ceiling turned massive and one almost hit Tecchou—if it hadn’t been for Jouno yanking him to the side by his clothes.

One metre. Gogol’s cries died down. The sudden pressure of a last explosion threw them out of the building before it collapsed right where they’d been merely a second ago.

Tecchou only allowed himself a short glance back. The building was barely a skeleton of a few pillars and broken walls but they were still crumbling, almost invisible behind all of the dust and smoke.

“We need to keep going,” said Jouno through gritted teeth. “As far away as we can, alright?”

“Alright!”

They were not fighting Gogol anymore, but their own bodies were begging them to stop, maybe to just drop dead. Tecchou nearly lost his vision, it was all blurry, and the ringing in his ears was persistent. He ran like someone had tons worth of bricks tied to his shoulders that dragged him down, and Jouno was no better. With the deep injury on his neck and others, Gogol had gotten to him after all, and so had the explosions. In combination with the wound inflicted by Tecchou, he assumed his clothes to be as drenched in blood as his own were

Tecchou clung to Jouno and Jouno clung to Tecchou as they stumbled down the driveway behind the factory. They reached a street of gravel and crossed it into yet another open field.

Neither of them could go much further.

Tecchou was the first to fall but Jouno pulled him up and nearly dragged him. The tall grass and pouring rain made walking harder but nevertheless they pushed on.

When looking back, Tecchou saw a trail of blood being left on the blades of grass they passed. He tugged at Jouno’s shirt in concern but Jouno paid him no mind—probably not by choice, but because he didn’t have the energy to.

Tecchou’s legs gave in once more and his knees hit the wet earth beneath them.

“Come on,” Jouno slurred and he pulled at Tecchou’s wrist.

“I can’t,” he mumbled back. “I’m sorry.”

Jouno bit his lip as he thought about his options but seemed to arrive at no conclusion. “I can’t carry you,” he said.

“I know.” Tecchou’s fist tightened around the bit of Jouno’s shirt he was still holding onto. “But please don’t leave me here.” He wasn’t only demanding now but begging, it was pathetic. His mind was too hazy to be embarrassed. He was lucky he could even get a coherent sentence out.

Jouno stood there for a moment longer before he sat down as well, facing Tecchou. With both their postures being weak and bent over, the grass almost reached their chins. The plant closest to Tecchou’s eye was painted red but he didn’t know if he was still actively bleeding. Jouno was, though.

He reached out and put his muddy hand over the long wound on his neck. It looked bad, Tecchou was scared it would kill Jouno after all. Red painted his fingers and made them even more slippery.

Swallowing, he glanced down at the cut he’d done. It was a straight one reaching from one shoulder to the other, beneath Jouno’s collarbones. Where his shirt exposed his skin it was red with blood but also immensely irritated from the gasoline, some even burnt.

“I’m sorry for making you stay,” Tecchou mumbled as he dropped his hand, too exhausted to keep his arm raised.

“I chose to,” Jouno noted. Tecchou decided to believe that this was the truth—because Jouno was usually blunt and honest, even if it hurt others. At least that’s how it had been when they were younger. He didn’t know if Jouno was still the same, but he heavily doubted that he’d lie only to please Tecchou.

“How did you know that Gogol would rather protect the bombs?” Jouno asked after a short moment of silence that was merely ruled by the rain. Tecchou saw Jouno’s breath condense and fade into air. It was cold but he wasn’t sure what exactly made his body tremble—there were too many things that could be the cause of it.

“I didn’t know,” Tecchou explained. “I hoped he would lose sight of us then, or it would get him away from the building and we could escape.”

Jouno nodded slowly. “It was a task assigned to him personally by another member of the group. Gogol was quite fixated on him, so protecting the product was more important than killing us. I bet that Gogol is still alive, so I want to leave. You need to get up.”

With that, Jouno tried to stand again but Tecchou didn’t move. He shook his head, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“Jouno, I can’t.” His voice was weak and quiet. And yet, Jouno heard him. Tecchou wiped his filthy sleeve over his face to get rid of the sweat, water, and blood, but he only mixed them together. “I’m sorry.”

Jouno pressed his lips together. It was hard to identify what he was thinking, especially because Tecchou’s thoughts were still so jammed. All he knew was that he couldn’t move and that he didn’t want either of them to be alone when they died.

Drops dripped from Jouno’s hair and into his face, making his torn expression stand out even more. Usually, water was pure. It was a symbol of life and freedom. But as it ran down their bodies it became dark with filth.

“I don’t want to die here,” Tecchou continued, “but I can’t even move my toes. There’s no feeling in my legs, if I try to stand again I don’t think I’ll survive a single step.”

A deep crease formed between Jouno’s eyebrows before he sighed in defeat. “But I also don’t know what to do then. We can’t fight, we can’t run. What do we have left?”

Tecchou shrugged. He had no idea. A part of him felt bad for making Jouno stay with him and wait for both of their deaths to come.

“I’m s—” but Jouno interrupted him harshly.
“Stop apologising and think.”

Tecchou averted his eyes and looked down at his hands. Blurry. Trembling. He felt like closing his eyes and resting but he was afraid that he’d die in his sleep. Maybe of injuries or Gogol killing him. Both were possible and it scared him. So, he forced his eyes to stay open while his mind became foggier by the second.

He put a hand on the ground to hold himself up. The dirty water burned in the wound where Gogol had stabbed him with Tecchou’s sword.

“You know,” he mumbled, “before I left for Germany at seventeen, I thought we would reunite happily and celebrate but instead you told me to die. When I left for Germany at twenty-six, I thought I’d kill you.” He sighed. “But now I think both of us will just find our end.”

His arm gave in but he didn’t fall. Jouno had one hand on each of his shoulders, holding him in place.

A slightly panicked look was on his face now.

“I don’t think that my apologising will change anything,” he started hastily as though he was rushing to make Tecchou understand. “The people I killed—your friends, and innocent people—they weren’t my enemies but I still killed them. It shouldn’t have come to this.”

“You’ve lost your ability to apologise,” Tecchou teased weakly, “but I don’t mind. It bothered me more when you did it for every single little and unnecessary thing.”

He had more to say but Jouno looked so visibly taken aback that he almost laughed. The wound on his stomach stopped him, however. It almost felt like if he were to laugh, his intestines would simply slip out. So, he held back.

“I’m so glad I found you, Jouno,” he said instead.

The skin of Jouno’s face moved as the muscles underneath shifted in different directions. They pulled it apart and in the next moment, pushed it together into creases again. Indecisive. Jouno never arrived at any facial expressions that could show joy, anger, or sadness. He always pulled himself away from them the moment anything was threatening to form. Tecchou watched with half-lidded eyes, not knowing what to expect.

After a deep breath, Jouno stilled his facial muscles again, on a neutral expression.

“I left a mess behind.” He tried to sound casual but didn’t succeed. Tecchou could hear the tension that was reflected in his entire body.

“I think that’s on both of us.”

Tecchou’s strength was leaving him and he felt Jouno’s grip tighten almost painfully. It wasn’t in worry, though.

“Someone’s approaching us,” he whispered. “From behind you, not far. I didn’t hear them because of the rain and my damaged ears. They should’ve seen us already.”

Tecchou used his last bit of energy to turn around.

When he did, a weight fell from his shoulders.

“It’s not Gogol,” he announced, much to Jouno’s relief. “I think we might have a chance at living after all.”

Chapter Text

Tecchou knocked as softly as he could and immediately tightened his grip on his cane. For a moment, he almost hoped that Jouno wouldn’t hear it but when he heard a muffled ‘yes?’ he knew he had to commit to this and come in. There was no changing his mind. Pushing the door open, Tecchou entered the hospital room.

It looked almost identical to the one Tecchou had spent the night in before their confrontation and had returned to for now. The only difference being that Jouno sat on the bed, not Tecchou.

Some machines were beeping around him, which had also been Tecchou’s experience for the past couple of days. The few nurses left in the town had done their best to help them with their injuries, but it wasn’t comparable to the care in any fully functional hospital. Still, it had most definitely saved both their lives.

“What do you want?” Jouno sounded like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to snap at him or ask normally, so his words came out in an unnaturally pressed tone.

“Talk,” answered Tecchou simply.

They hadn’t faced each other since Tecchou had collapsed on the way back to the town. Both of them had been bedridden with Tecchou fading in and out of consciousness for most of the time before finally stabilising two days ago.

He’d asked about Jouno, of course, and he’d been told that Jouno had inquired about him regularly but declined any offers to visit him.

Now, the atmosphere felt strained, even though most of their worries about the other’s well-being washed away. Maybe it was because the adrenaline was gone and they could think clearly. Maybe not all things that had been said to be forgiven had been forgiven and forgotten after all, there might be distrust between them.

After all that had happened, Tecchou was afraid that they would leave this room as strangers. He was here to test the waters and figure some things out.

It took Jouno a few seconds to react but eventually, he nodded, allowing Tecchou to come in.

Once the door was closed behind him, he walked over to the chair facing the bed.

“I don’t want you to look at me, though,” Jouno noted, finally deciding to give his voice a bit of venom.

“I understand.” Tecchou leaned his cane against the bed. He currently relied on it due to the wounds on his left leg getting horribly and deeply infected in several places: around the wound he had cut himself and the many metal splinters from the coin bombs that had since been removed. It was a struggle and made walking really hard, especially after another surgery to save his leg. But he was pushing through it. It would get better eventually.

He lifted the chair to avoid making an uncomfortable scratching noise for Jouno and turned it by 180 degrees albeit with some problems. He finally sat down with his back to the bed.

Sitting still hurt and Tecchou’s heartbeat was racing from just walking to this room and moving the chair. Maybe it was his nerves, too. Tecchou was unsure.

“So?” Jouno demanded. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

Tecchou sighed. He didn’t know if he should choose his words carefully now, or if he could just talk openly about everything. Navigating Jouno was hard again. It used to be so, so easy but that had been fifteen years ago.

“The future. We can’t stay here forever,” Tecchou introduced the topic.
“I’m aware. Your point?”
“Where do you want to go next?”

Tecchou couldn’t see him but he felt it in his bones that Jouno crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Who says we’re going anywhere together?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking that.”

Guilty as charged. If he was being honest, Tecchou didn’t want them to go their separate ways again. On the other hand, he was worried that staying together would make Jouno hate him or vice versa when they realised they simply couldn't work together anymore. Not as friends, not as anything.

However, Tecchou was willing to take the risk. The knowledge that Jouno or he wouldn’t be alone for at least a while and figured out things together was a much nicer thought than leaving alone, even if it were to end poorly.

“Would you, though?” Tecchou asked. “Come with me, I mean?”

Jouno was quiet and five seconds into the silence, Tecchou knew he wasn’t getting an answer to that question. The longer the silence lasted, the more he wondered if Jouno was ever going to talk to him again, or if that suggestion had ruined everything.

But Jouno spoke again, after one more minute or so.

“Your body still sounds horrible.” It was a casual statement, not a provoking one. And yet, completely ignoring the question. Tecchou would accept that for now, it was a bold one after all and Jouno had, from the beginning, been clear on being unsure about their situation and plans going forward.

“I know… I feel quite bad still but things are looking up.”

“Hm…” Then, Jouno was silent again. This time, however, it took him less than a minute. “Does it not scare you? What you did to yourself? What I did to you?”

This wasn’t even something Tecchou had to think about. “No.” After a moment, he added, “Does it scare you?”

Jouno sighed. “The things that happened to me? Not at all. But I’m aware of what I did. My actions and their consequences on myself are trivial. However hearing your damaged body, it’s—” His voice trailed off at the end and Tecchou couldn’t imagine what he wanted to say.
“I was asked the same question by a doctor here.”
“Doctor?”
“I beheaded him... Long story.”

Jouno tsked in mild amusement. “Must’ve been pretty bad then, huh…” He became serious again. Tecchou could hear it in a short sigh.

“What happened to you scares me,” Tecchou said. “All of it.” An apology was on his tongue but he swallowed it. He was sure Jouno already had enough of hearing those and it was on Tecchou to act in order to earn forgiveness—if that was even possible.

Jouno’s blanket moved as he shrugged. “I never thought about it a lot. Still don’t. I feel like it’s for the better.” He slowly breathed in and out. “And at least my body doesn’t sound like yours does…”

He let Tecchou sit with that for a while, and Tecchou didn’t know how to respond. If he wasn’t mistaken, he heard some worry in Jouno’s voice. It was odd and Tecchou didn’t want him to worry, not about him, but at the same time, it brought him comfort.

Eventually, Jouno opened his mouth once more. “Was it worth it?”

He didn’t even miss a beat with his answer. “Every last bit.”

Tecchou swallowed in the silence that followed. His answer had been direct and clear, now he just needed to wait for a reaction from Jouno. He’d wait for years if Jouno decided to take that long to say anything.

Back during their youth, Jouno had never really been one to choose his words carefully, at least not around Tecchou. Because there had never been any negative consequences to that. Around other people and especially adults, he’d watched his tongue. Tecchou didn’t know why Jouno took his time now. Maybe it was because he simply had to sort his thoughts, maybe it was because they barely knew each other anymore. Maybe because there was more on the line now.

Jouno never directly reacted to Tecchou’s admission.

“You can turn around now.”

He didn’t have to tell Tecchou twice.

Almost a little too eager, he turned around his chair and sat down facing Jouno. For the first time in a while, he could take a good look at him.

The few nights they’d spent at the hospital so far had been good for him. It was evident in the colour returning to his skin and making it less ashen, and his hair appearing softer. There was no blood on his skin and most of his wounds, save for a few smaller cuts, were covered in clean bandages or band-aids.

Jouno sat there in the sun. He wasn’t surrounded by smoke, nor was there any smell of blood, gasoline, or fire. His hands were neatly folded on his lap and his face was neutral. Neither filled with rage or hurt, nor with physical pain.

Tecchou breathed in and out, letting his lungs fill with air to their fullest capacity. He hadn’t looked at Jouno like that since they were seventeen. Sure, he’d looked at him in the past few weeks, but it had never been just for the sake of looking at him. It had always been for a fight, watching his moves, or trying to read him.

The pictures of Jouno in the files Tecchou had seen a couple of years ago weren’t up to date anymore, obviously. The twenty-five-year-old Jouno in front of him had light creases on his skin, some deeper from worry. He appeared more mature, his facial features had changed minimally with his cheekbones and jaw becoming more prominent. His freckles hadn’t disappeared and Tecchou thought to see a few more around his nose.

Jouno was pretty—he’d always been, and Tecchou had always thought so. Getting to look at him like that again was something he’d never imagined, not since the harsh words Jouno had said to him when they’d parted ways. But there he was, within his reach. Tecchou could reach out, touch his hand and take it, or let his hand cup his cheek like he’d done in Russia in a half-dead state.

Wishing for this sight to never vanish was naïve. He still didn’t know if Jouno would agree to leave with him instead of them going their separate ways. The thing was that Tecchou would go anywhere for Jouno. He would tear his body apart for him. He’d cry for him and laugh for him, and he wanted to be someone Jouno could lean on.

Maybe this was stupid. Tecchou shouldn’t imagine himself doing all of this when their future was uncertain.

But Jouno’s lips moved.

Tecchou felt his body tense when he heard the noise of Jouno’s voice but couldn’t decipher the words.

“What?” he asked.

“I said,” Jouno sighed, “that I’ll come with you.”

A laugh left Tecchou’s chest in pure disbelief. Maybe he’d have to hear the answer a few more times before he could finally get it into his skull.

“But only if you stop staring at me like that. Otherwise, you’ll lose looking-at-me-privileges very quickly.”

“Sorry,” Tecchou mumbled, but even the embarrassment couldn’t conceal his smile. “Where are we going?”

Jouno made a thoughtful face. “I might have a place in mind.”

Just as Tecchou opened his mouth to ask ‘where?’, he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He glanced at Jouno, the primary occupant of this room, who nodded shortly before calling, “Come in!”

Tecchou turned his body to see who was entering. The door was opened and Patrick peeked in.

“Sorry to interrupt you two—I know it’s the first time you’re meeting again but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” The man shot Tecchou a smile, then turned his gaze to Jouno.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Tecchou thought to see a certain sense of respect, maybe even worry or fear in his eyes. There was no blaming him, though. As highly as Patrick had talked about Jouno, telling Tecchou to spare his life and whatnot, he was still facing someone he knew to be a terrorist and mass murderer. Even as incapacitated as they were, it would be easy to overpower a simple person. Tecchou didn’t want to think about that, though.

The man stepped into the room and bowed. It was a decent imitation of their customs from home, even though it was a bit too deep and too long.

“I’m Patrick,” he introduced himself to Jouno. Despite his nerves, his voice didn’t falter. “I found you two after the fight but didn’t introduce myself—and both of you were barely alive so I didn’t think you would’ve cared to remember anyway. I met Tecchou on his journey here.”

Jouno politely bowed his head. “Jouno. The nurses have told me about you, I’m pleased to meet you.” His tone remained neutral and Tecchou didn’t find himself surprised about that. It was still nice to experience the different sides of Jouno all over again after the years that had passed.

Somehow, this fascinated Tecchou and he couldn’t help but stare at Jouno with slightly widened eyes. For nearly a decade, all he’d known Jouno as was a spiteful person filled with rage. He’d sounded like that when they parted ways, his irritation with him over the phone, and lastly, every single encounter they’d had over the weeks leading up to their confrontation.

Sure, Tecchou knew that there was more to Jouno, just like there was more to Tecchou himself. But experiencing it was different. He wanted to see more but he forced himself to tear his eyes off Jouno.

“Are you going home?” Tecchou asked and Patrick nodded.

“For the time being, yes. I don’t usually stick around here and barely stay overnight since my wife and son worry about that. This was an unusual situation and I informed them about it but I’d prefer to go back. And I can do so without worries now that you’re both here in one piece—more or less.”

Understanding, Tecchou nodded. “I hope you have a safe journey home.”

A heartfelt laugh erupted from the man’s chest. “It’s merely a fifteen-minute drive, you should worry about your own travels, wherever they may lead you.”

Tecchou felt a smile tug at his lips. He wasn’t wrong. In a quick motion, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The screen had cracked but it was still usable for now. With a few quick taps, he opened his contacts.

“You can put in your number,” Tecchou offered. “So I can see your journey, and you can see mine.”

A warm smile. Then, Patrick took the phone. “Of course. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.”

He put in his number and returned the phone.

Throughout all of this, Jouno remained silent. Tecchou shot him a glance to check if he was alright, but he only seemed to quietly observe their exchange as it was happening. He was probably aware that not only their current visitor but also the other nurses were very intimidated by him. He didn’t seem bothered by that, however—he just kept a respectful distance.

Saying goodbye to Patrick again was hard, especially after he’d saved their lives like that. They hugged again, this time a bit longer than before. It was warm and comforting, something that Tecchou didn’t desperately need anymore but appreciated nevertheless.

“Take care,” Tecchou told him with a heavy heart.

“You two as well.”

They both nodded.

Then, just like that, the man was gone again.

Tecchou sighed while Jouno kept quiet until the former soldier turned around in his chair to face him.

“He’s a kind man,” Jouno commented and Tecchou agreed. He didn’t wish to dwell on any of that right now, though.

“So, what place did you have in mind?” he circled back to their previous topic.

Jouno hummed. “You’ll see…”

[One week later. 13:05. There are no new beginnings because your history still remains. You can merely carry on.]

The people around gave them strange looks. Tecchou guessed that they didn’t see outsiders like them that often, as people—including Tecchou—had mostly assumed this town to be nothing more than a heap of rubble with bones in between. But, evidently, this wasn’t the case.

The traces of death that had lingered in every street were gone. No damaged buildings could be seen, not even the streets showed any signs of past battles or massacres. Tecchou had half-expected that to still be the case. However, because fourteen years had passed since the end of the Great War and people lived here again, it was obvious that it would look—normal. Nothing reminded him of that time anymore.

Although, this fact also meant that everything was new and unfamiliar. Not a single street they walked down had any buildings Tecchou recognised. The general layout of the city was the same and when he put in a lot of effort, he was able to vaguely remember what had been there before. But nothing matched the current houses.

There were modern cafés and restaurants, as well as family homes. Some trees by the streets, patches of grass, and a school or two. They walked by gyms, clothing outlets, office buildings, and convenience stores.

Tecchou was unsure how he felt about this change. On the one hand, he was disappointed that he couldn’t experience his home anymore. Not like it used to be. He yearned for the image of past days that he remembered so fondly. But he was also sure that it would bring back too many painful memories, and he was happy people could start new lives here. That the town itself seemed alive again. Everything was. Maybe the new town would make him feel the same way too.

He just hoped that what had happened here would be remembered by the people now and going forward.

Luckily, that was what a museum and a memorial had been built for. Both were at a small park near the centre of the city. The museum was on the outside, and the memorial could be found further into the gardens.

The gravel was loud under their feet, so Tecchou let his shoulder brush Jouno’s in order to direct him towards the grass for them to walk on. For a moment, Jouno stopped but he quickly shook his head and continued walking.

Tecchou didn’t let himself wonder if there was something wrong. Maybe he’d ask later.

The park smelled fresh and now that Tecchou paid more attention to the air, he noticed that the only familiar aspect was the scent carried by the wind. It smelled like fish from the market down by the harbour. When his senses had first become stronger, Jouno had always complained about exactly that, but now he didn’t appear to be bothered by it. Maybe he was also dwelling on old memories, too much to complain.

Tecchou could also smell the sea itself. It was salty and fresh, carrying winds from far beyond the boundaries of the city. It lacked the pollution and stuffiness of the town—although Tecchou found this to be rather pleasant compared to other cities he’d visited where smog reigned the air.

Lastly, his nose found trees that had won the battle against a war with raging fires, poisoned ground from dropped bombs, black skies for days, and oil in the waters. When Tecchou looked around the park, he could spot a few older trees with roots sticking out from underground, showing scars of that time.

Within the heart of the park, seasonal flowers were more prevalent, reminding Tecchou of long bygone days. He couldn’t identify them by smell alone and neither could he guess by looking at them.

The grip on his cane tightened when he caught a first glance at the memorial site.

Both of them had been completely quiet the entire way through the town and the park, but Tecchou broke the silence at last.

“We’re almost there.”

Jouno acknowledged that with a simple hum.

With a bit of space between them, Tecchou led them up to the memorial. A line of young trees surrounded it, still growing against supporting sticks. Here, the gravel was replaced by even brown stone ground cut into squares, so walking was more comfortable for them—the noise wasn’t painful for Jouno and Tecchou’s cane didn’t get caught in the grass anymore.

Four small wells framed the square but no water was currently running. It merely sat in the encased spaces, mildly moved by a breeze. The sun shining through the leaves above glittered and danced over the surface.

One of the wells was adorned with a bronze statue of a dying crane. Good fortune, happiness, and lives all lost at once. It, too, reflected the early spring sun.

In the middle stood a block of black marble. It threw a considerably large shadow onto the ground and every inch of it was covered in text. Characters and numbers had been etched into it in countless columns and rows, going down and around the block, then painted golden in the indents.

Tecchou and Jouno stopped for a moment, both taking a deep breath before approaching the memorial.

Nobody else was there, so Tecchou felt a bit more comfortable without any curious eyes on him. He didn’t want anyone to question their presence or ask anything else.

He began to look for familiar names and didn’t have to search for long. It was easy to find former classmates or teachers, neighbours, or people he had never met but heard gossip about when his mom was chatting on the phone with her friends. All names had a number next to them, indicating their age on the day they’d died. The amount of numbers under twenty was sickening to him, even going as far down to zero: not even a year old. There were also many estimated numbers with only a placeholder for a name next to them—people who had never been identified. Mostly children.

He stepped around the corner and let his eyes wander further.

A girl he’d almost gotten into a fistfight with a week after school had started. A teacher who’d scolded Tecchou and Jouno for arguing and forced them to apologise to each other, only for them to argue again about who should do it first. Tecchou found most of the children who’d been in a class with them.

He clenched his jaw. When they died, had they been alone? But even with people around them, he didn’t think that death would have been any less terrifying.

Tecchou disliked the idea of hoping that their ends had been painless. They shouldn’t have died at all. The lesser evil didn’t bring him any comfort.

He also wondered what their last moments had been like. Or if it was really true that they had died. Unlike other children, Tecchou’s and Jouno’s names hadn’t been falsely etched into the stone. It was known to them that the military had pronounced many children dead when in reality, they had been taken by the government for sick experiments and military service. Bodies that had never been found, even when their parents begged and searched for them. But there were no bodies in the first place. Both sides had done this, Tecchou was certain of that.

It hurt to think about. He had never personally met anyone who’d suffered from this fate—or at least he didn’t know if he had, as he assumed that most would be forced to stay silent, or were not able to speak about that at all. Maybe they’d forgotten, maybe they’d been manipulated and brainwashed.

It enraged him but there was nothing he could do. And that made him even more angry.

He closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself with a sigh. Enough. That wasn’t what he was here for right now.

Tecchou kept reading down and down, column for column, letting all names be etched into his mind. Until he stumbled over a set of characters that forced his heart to stop for a moment.

“Who?” Jouno asked immediately but quietly, no more than a breath on his lips.

Tecchou tightened his hand around his cane when he felt sweat forming in the palm of his hand.

“My mother,” he answered.

A glance at Jouno showed him a frown. He opened his mouth but his speech was delayed by several seconds in which he contemplated if he really should talk or not. In the end, Jouno did.

“I’d like to read her name,” he said and Tecchou understood. He used his free left hand to take Jouno’s right one and placed it on the kanji that spelled his mother’s name. Not wanting the touch to last too long, Tecchou removed his own hand immediately to give Jouno space.

First, Jouno felt over the entire kanji with flattened fingers, then he traced every single stroke in the right order with only the pad of his index finger.

“Suehiro.” Jouno swallowed. “Just like you.”

Jouno had always been fond of Tecchou’s mother. She’d loved it when he’d visited, and she’d always cooked dishes he enjoyed or even baked for them while her son was playfully attempting to murder his friend in the garden. She’d loved their friendship and Tecchou wondered what she would think of them now.

He was afraid that she would condemn everything he’d done. Or maybe she would understand that circumstances had made him this way. Maybe she’d share an attitude similar to the one Tecchou had to Jouno, or the father he’d met had towards his son.

He wished to know if her love for him would still be unconditional, like the love and kindness she had shown both Tecchou and Jouno when they’d been children—much like what some people had shown him during his travels. And what he wanted to give to Jouno.

Tecchou made a noise in confirmation, then reached into his pocket.

“I still have the keychain she gave me,” he noted.

Surprise was temporarily written on Jouno’s face. “Oh, really?” Then his features softened. He traced the name one more time before retracting his hand and holding it in front of Tecchou with his palm facing up. Tecchou understood immediately and placed the keychain there.

Jouno’s fingers wrapped around it and he turned it in his hands. “It’s still soft,” he mumbled.

“Looks pretty rough, though,” Tecchou replied. “It’s probably lost a lot of its softness too, but I’m scared of washing it.”

“Ah, yeah. But I think you can try to wash it a little. It smells as well.”

“Oh…” Tecchou hadn’t noticed that, but it made sense that it would, considering the amount of dirt. “Remember how it was almost the only thing on my will to you?”

Talking about the past to Jouno still tasted a bit sour. He was never able to confidently tell if Jouno could remember or not, or if he was open to talk about it. Jouno’s reactions used to be unpredictable, but in the little time since their reunion, he had been mostly calm. It seemed almost forced, not like the Jouno Tecchou had known.

The reason for that was something out of Tecchou's reach. He didn’t know why Jouno would put on thick gloves when talking to him because Tecchou had never really cared for the sharpness of his tongue. Jouno was honest with him, shared his truest thoughts and reactions, and it had always been something Tecchou appreciated.

“I do remember, yeah. I also remember how much that scared me,” Jouno admitted. “Because it was so precious to you, and the thought of receiving it after your death was terrifying. I depended on you so much…” He sighed and shook his head before returning the keychain. “But you’re not dead yet, so you can have it back.”

Tecchou pocketed it.

“You wrote just what I did: your money. And your earring,” he noted. “It was all you had. And this was all I had.”

Jouno nodded. “And we’re back where we came from. I don’t have anything except for the clothes on my body and that earring. And you have nothing but that keychain.”

“But we still have each other, like we did back then.” The words fell from Tecchou’s tongue before he could stop himself. Although that was fine—at least it should be. He had always been honest with Jouno, too.

However, his friend looked startled for a moment. His lips were slightly parted and the muscles of his face moved undecidedly, as though he was unsure of what expression to make. Meanwhile, his shoulders relaxed a little and he dropped his overly stiff posture, as though Tecchou’s words had flipped a switch inside his mind. That’s what gave him away.

“Right,” Jouno said. It sounded rather cold, but Tecchou saw him agreeing as a win.

They continued exploring the memorial.

Tecchou saw a few more names he recognised. All of them stung, some of them more, some less. But all of them were human lives lost. He pressed his lips together and swallowed the tears that might dwell up. He couldn’t allow himself any because that would blur the names in front of him.

Moving on to the next column, he read the names almost all the way down until he stopped again.

“Your father’s name,” he informed Jouno, who stopped in his tracks. His hand was resting on the corner of the marble and he only slowly pulled it away before approaching Tecchou.

He seemed hesitant when he came to a halt next to him, but then he asked, “Could you show me where?”

Tecchou agreed and crouched down. His legs didn’t allow him to stay in that position for long without starting to shake and ache, so he decided to sit instead and put his cane on the floor next to him. Jouno knelt down closely.

This time, Tecchou took both of Jouno’s hands with his and brought them to the kanji forming his father’s name. When Jouno’s fingertips brushed the etching, Tecchou wanted to take his hands back.

“Don’t,” Jouno said. It was quick but didn’t sound commanding at all, more like a request. So, Tecchou stayed.

There was a slight unsteadiness in Jouno’s hands but he was careful when tracing the kanji in full first, then stroke for stroke. Tecchou’s eyes were completely focused on them. Jouno’s were cold, they had always been, but it had never bothered Tecchou. A few hardened spots from using tools like knives, and a couple of scars could be found here and there, but it was nothing compared to how calloused Tecchou’s skin was from years of swinging his sword every single day, both for training and in real combat.

Jouno, who Tecchou had assumed to dislike this sensation, didn’t seem to mind at all. He guided their hands along the kanji and stopped once he was done, but he didn’t remove them after.

“Jouno… Just like me,” he mumbled with a short sigh. Tecchou dared to reassuringly squeeze Jouno’s hands in response, but that didn’t get him much of a reaction.

They stayed silent for a while and remained in that position, until Jouno pulled back from the marble, but not from Tecchou. He turned his hands to connect their palms and rested them on his leg. Tecchou still stared at them.

His skin felt soft when Tecchou curiously brushed his thumb over it, trying to make it seem casual or even accidental rather than something he was doing out of curiosity and wanting to explore this feeling. It surprised him that Jouno never shied away from his touch.

“Can you do me a favour?” he asked after a while.
“What is it, Jouno?”

He took a deep breath. “Please stop calling me that—Jouno, I mean.”

“Mhm!” Tecchou immediately agreed. He didn’t question why, but Jouno continued anyway.

“That name is connected to a past and a person that I’m trying to lay to rest now. Not forget them completely, as my first name is also the one my father gave me and used, but it’s not his.”

Tecchou nodded. “I understand.” After a moment, he added, “Saigiku.” The name felt nice on his tongue and Jouno’s lips slightly curved upwards in response. Tecchou wondered how long it had been since he’d seen Jouno smile like that. Usually, his smiles had felt manic in a rush of dopamine when he made someone suffer, or a pained grimace resembling a smile when his body couldn’t take the pain anymore.

But not this time. This time, it was sincere and caused by Tecchou’s understanding and the action that followed.

Jouno didn’t thank him verbally, but he nodded, pleased.

Finally, he pulled his hands away but Tecchou didn’t really feel the loss. He wasn’t leaving, he was still within reach. Even though the touch was gone now, that didn’t mean it would be forever—for some reason, Tecchou was sure of that.

He grabbed his cane and helped himself up while Jouno stood as well.

“Alright?” he asked and Tecchou made a positive noise.

They began their walk back, first over stone, then grass again when the gravel started.

“Do you remember that same day?” Tecchou mused.

“What?”

“The last spring we met,” he explained. “When we laid in the grass and said goodbye?”

“Ah… yeah…” Jouno sounded a bit bitter and Tecchou couldn’t blame him.

“Do you want to lie down?”

Hesitantly, Jouno agreed. This time, however, he refused Tecchou’s coat because ‘it stank’ and he ‘needed to wash it or else he would set it on fire’, so Jouno put down his own jacket for them to rest their heads on. There was more space between them than back then. But less distance.

Tecchou enjoyed the mild breeze on his skin and he closed his eyes for a moment. Voices were far away, rustling leaves were close. The tree that lent them its shadow was slowly regaining its leaves, so it allowed for some light to reach his face.

“You’ve lost some of your bite,” he commented out of the blue. Jouno being overly nice to people was usually a sign of great respect or even fear. Tecchou didn’t think that Jouno was afraid of him, but he thought that Jouno might think of him as a stranger and thus bit his tongue.

A groan from Jouno. “Can you,” he hissed, “for one minute not say what’s on your mind?” This sounded a lot more like the Jouno he knew. Tecchou smirked in response.

“You do it too, usually, it’s only fair,” he retorted.

“Ugh,” Jouno made an annoyed noise before becoming serious. He sighed, giving his words some thought, then finally spoke. “I just don’t know what kind of person I want to be now.”

The honesty of his answer and its content caught Tecchou off-guard. He opened his eyes and glanced at Jouno, who was facing upwards with his eyebrows almost meeting in a frown.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that—” Jouno paused to rub his hands over his face, seemingly buying time. “—everything has been disrupted again. I’m adapting. But I don’t know who I was before, or who I want to be in the future. When I lived with my father, I hid everything about myself because I was afraid he’d use it to hurt me. I took on a personality that would anger him the least and lived with that. Then the Great War happened, my time in criminal organisations, prison, and with the Decay of the Angel. I think I lost myself along the way—or I was never someone in the first place.”

Tecchou rolled onto his left side to keep his eyes on Jouno without having to twist his neck the entire time.

“Is your honesty with me and sharing your thoughts part of the new persona?”

Jouno thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t know…” With a sigh, he added, “I initially thought to myself that I wouldn’t share things with you. Not like this. Because you didn’t listen in the past and because I was afraid that whatever I say might be used against me. But I’m making myself believe that this is unlike you, and it seems I’m stuck with you now.”

“Yeah,” Tecchou agreed earnestly. “There’s no getting rid of me.”

“Oh, shut up!” But Jouno didn’t mean that. “I know you want to repair our relationship and it’s been hard for me to accept that you do. After we put each other through immense pain, even damaged one another. This feeling of anger and hurt I directed towards you is the rawest emotion I feel like I have. That, and fear of myself and loss. You’ve seen both, so what does it matter if I share the lesser ones with you?”

There was a hole in Jouno’s reasoning that Tecchou had trouble reaching. He didn’t want to fight with him or be too argumentative, but something bugged him.

“You think anger and fear are the strongest emotions?” he inquired after a while.

Jouno answered as if it was obvious and Tecchou was a tad bit stupid. “Yes.”

“Hm.” He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

From the side, he could see Jouno raise an eyebrow in doubt, so he tried to put his thoughts into words.

“Your anger towards me and your fear stem from something different. Why was it that you were afraid? You aren’t afraid of other people who find pleasure in pain. And you aren’t afraid of telling strangers that you do. You aren’t afraid of strangers leaving you. The same with anger. You were angry at me for the things I did—or didn’t—do. Because it was me who turned away from you. Again, a stranger doing this would not have bothered you in that way.”

For a moment, Tecchou was scared that Jouno would get up and walk away from him (he would not blame him), but he stayed. His face went through different feelings as he tried to process what Tecchou had just said. It was invasive what he was saying. It intruded on Jouno’s feelings and boldly assumed things. But Tecchou wanted to share exactly these thoughts with Jouno, as he felt like he needed to hear them.

A couple of people walked by them to the memorial, gravel loud beneath their shoes, then back after a few minutes. Jouno was still thinking and Tecchou looked at him the entire time, patient.

“So you think my anger and fear come from a different place?”

“Mhm,” Tecchou agreed.

“I hate what you’re implying.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but Tecchou understood that this conversation was over for now.

He didn’t want to press this issue any further. As Jouno had said, he was adapting again. They both were. Tecchou, too, was struggling to figure out who he was. And he realised that he needed to focus on that only with himself, without regard for Jouno. His friend would certainly play a part in this development, but he shouldn’t be the sole focus.

The distance that remained between them wasn’t only for Jouno’s sake, it was for Tecchou’s as well. He had to repair himself first before anything else.

Without the military, Tecchou felt strangely empty. Nobody told him what to do anymore, and starting to think of his life now as ‘freedom’ felt odd. Not in a bad way, but in a new way.

“We’ll both become people again,” Tecchou said. “We may be humans walking this earth, but we’re far from people.”

Jouno nodded slowly. “You’re talking nonsense but I understand what you mean.”

“I hope you can find the you you’re looking for. The one that’s authentically you.”

A simple affirmative noise came from Jouno but he didn’t say anything else. Tecchou closed his eyes again. He didn’t try to sleep, but he could if he wanted to. He felt secure with Jouno around, even though neither of them was currently carrying any weapons in case they were attacked. Luckily, the chances of anything happening were low.

People came and went, but unlike the rest of the park, not many people visited the memorial. At some point, a group of young students with teachers arrived. They were loud, although Tecchou didn’t see them as disruptive. He was glad that a newer generation seemed to thrive here as well. As they were leaving, Tecchou slowly felt the shadows of the trees move, allowing the sun to fully touch his face.

It felt exactly like that day nine years ago. With the difference that there was no barrier between him and Jouno, and Tecchou wouldn’t leave with a heavy heart, thinking Jouno hated him after telling him to die.

No, the feeling was more like when they were children rolling around in the park while Tecchou’s mother watched to make sure neither of them got hurt. But from that point in time and onwards, they had lost everything and themselves—also, Tecchou doubted that Jouno would willingly roll around the grass with him for a playful fight.

“Where are we gonna go next?” he asked casually, accompanied by a yawn.

Something else that felt weird was having no obligations. Sure, he’d had free days before, but he’d mostly chosen to work unless the other Hunting Dogs wanted to spend time together. Other than that, it had needed grave injuries and the like to force Tecchou to do nothing.

It felt nice, though. He felt almost relaxed for the first time in so, so long.

“I have a place we can stay at,” Jouno noted.

“What?” Tecchou opened his eyes at that and propped himself up on his elbow, slightly looking down at Jouno.

“I pulled some strings, got a place. It’s nothing much. Two bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom, living space.”

“How?”

A shrug. “Sounds oddly convenient, am I right?” Jouno made an amused noise when Tecchou’s mouth almost hung agape. “When we talked for the first time in the hospital and decided to stick together, I thought about coming here again. So, the second you were out the door again, I asked a nurse for her phone to make arrangements.”

Tecchou swallowed. Words he didn’t dare to speak yet were on his tongue and he forced them down. “Okay,” was all he managed. His chest hurt. But for once, it wasn’t due to real physical pain or something emotional. Jouno seemed to notice his reaction but he didn’t look like he wanted to get into it. Good because Tecchou didn’t either.

Jouno promptly stood up. “Let’s go to that place then!”

After crossing the park on their way back, they took a taxi to an area a bit outside the city. Beyond the more busy streets stood a building of about five stories. The neighbourhood was a mix of houses like this one and small ones fit for a family each. Tecchou thought to see a school down the street and spotted a few kids on their way home. As they let them pass, Jouno fished some keys out of his pocket and gave them to Tecchou. How he’d done all of this remained a mystery because Jouno disregarded the questions with a wave of his hand.

“It wasn’t my preferred option,” he explained instead. “If it were up to me, we’d be living in a traditional home on a quiet hill. But I was afraid the situation might be too unstable to get a nicer place, so I settled for this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tecchou told him. “It’s more than I ever imagined.”

Their apartment was on the top floor. It was small like Jouno had said, but Tecchou had never expected to have a roof above his head in the first place. It was amazing. His heart swelled and he could even see Jouno crack a smile at both the place and Tecchou’s reaction.

Upon entering, Tecchou immediately explored the place with Jouno closely behind. There wasn’t that much light due to neighbouring buildings blocking the sun, and a few spots on the floor and walls were dirty, but that was nothing they couldn’t fix. It was lacking decoration but Tecchou had never been one to decorate much. Now, however, he found himself thinking about what pictures he could hang up. Get a nice vase, find some artwork.

It was odd. Having a home was. The only place he’d considered a home for so many years had been military grounds, as he’d never bothered to get an apartment for himself. All he’d ever needed had been the military. But those days were over.

“What do you think?” Jouno asked when they sat on the sofa to test it and the dust that had made Jouno sneeze a few times finally settled.

“It’s great!” Tecchou looked around again and finally at the window behind him: a town, streets, people living. No brutalist concrete structures and soldiers in uniforms with weapons. “I want to stay here.”

Jouno nodded. “That’s good, then.”

Tecchou chose the room with the window facing towards the sea (although he couldn’t see it from there), and Jouno got the one closer to the bathroom.

Neither of them had anything to move into their rooms. Not even a pair of pyjamas, so all Tecchou could do was exist in his new space for now.

Once he stood alone for a moment, he immediately felt the pain in his body returning. It had been there this entire time, but the excitement had helped push it down. With discomfort written on his face, he sat down on the bed. In the next second, he was lying down. He wondered how long it would take for him to get rid of the last traces of the surgeries, although he didn’t even know if that would be possible.

The fatigue hadn’t gone away either, the sleeping problems remained and were still paired with nightmares of things that had happened, and things that could very well occur in the future—far and near. Tecchou didn’t think of this as a fresh start, so a certain level of stress remained. All of that came with lots of fears regarding what was yet to come, and more individual ones about his own person and their relationship.

Tecchou sighed.

He was alive. And so was Jouno. That was what mattered. He would hold onto this for as long as he could, and he would learn to cherish the time they had. His energy would be invested in healing himself and holding onto Jouno as tightly as he could. Not letting him slip through his fingers again was a priority as well. Tecchou just hoped that Jouno would think the same way.

His alone time didn’t last for long when his new roommate’s head appeared in his door.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep!” he was scolded just a moment later. “We have no groceries, no clothes, nothing! Get out of bed and come to the store with me, will you?!”

Tecchou would do anything for Jouno. Nevertheless, he got out of his bed with a drawn-out groan.

~~~

They didn’t talk much over their first self-cooked dinner until Jouno put down his chopsticks and made a serious face. At first, Tecchou thought he would complain about his food choices, but he was mistaken.

“As nice as retirement sounds, I don’t think it’ll last for too long,” he said.

Immediately, the atmosphere felt heavy. Tecchou knew what Jouno was talking about, and he had been thinking about the same thing. Especially after the more recent revelations of Fukuchi also being the leader of the Decay of the Angel, Tecchou had started feeling a sense of urgency to act. He wanted to inform the rest of his friends and do anything in his power to stop him.

“I know…” Tecchou sighed and set down his chopsticks as well. He didn’t feel hungry anymore, the thoughts of impending doom heavier in his stomach than anything else. “I need to warn the other Hunting Dogs.”

“I disagree,” Jouno told him. “I don’t think you should be in contact with them. This is both for your safety and theirs. It’s also not out of question that they might know about and contribute to Kamui’s plans. They sound like noble ideas, after all.”

He did have a point, even if it stung. Jouno could be wrong, Tecchou told himself. They might be on Fukuchi’s side, but they didn’t have to be. He was sure they would understand Tecchou if he explained the situation to them… Or would they? Tecchou suddenly found it hard to judge his friends’ ideals and convictions when they didn’t match his own anymore.

Jouno seemed to notice Tecchou being torn by his words. “It’s not Kamui’s direct intention to harm them,” he said. “I heavily doubt that, as they’re vital to the plan.”

“How much do you know about that plan?”

“Not much, unfortunately. All members of the Decay of the Angel had their own ideas of what they wanted to do. Ridding the world of ability users, ridding the world of war, being forced into it… Kamui didn’t show his face during meetings with the others, so I really don’t think his full plans were revealed to them. Everyone was only informed about the role they were supposed to play.”

“That makes sense.” Tecchou leaned against the armrest of his chair. The day had drained him, even though they had only arrived here, walked through the park, and shopped for essentials. He wondered how long it would take him to feel somewhat fit again. “How much time do we have?”

“About a year. The coin bombs were manufactured now to have them well-distributed among citizens by that time. Fyodor should start acting a few months prior to the final phases of the plan, though.”

“Who’s that? The guy Gogol was obsessed with?”

Jouno made a displeased face. “Yeah. Creepy guy. I only met him once and I’d prefer keeping it that way.” He bit his lip for a moment. “While I learned how to interpret the reactions of a person’s body to get under their skin and manipulate them, Fyodor predicts them. He figures out a person before even meeting them, before they know about his existence. Hell, I’m sure he knows we’re talking about him right now!”

“Then how do we beat him?”

“We won’t. Fyodor has his eyes on someone who’s on par with him. That man will be involved as well. We’ll rely on him to do the job for us.”

Tecchou nodded. “Got it.”

He sighed. A question was on his tongue—it had been there all this time, ever since they’d woken up in the hospital. But he figured that it might offend Jouno, even if it was important to Tecchou’s peace of mind.

“Ask,” Jouno challenged. “I can hear you squirming around, just say it.”

“Okay…” In a way, Tecchou felt exposed by Jouno’s senses, but he also appreciated them immensely. Maybe they’d guide him to be more direct. “Why did you leave the organisation and would you go back if you had the chance to?”

A sigh. Not an upset or angry one, maybe one to fill the room while Jouno thought. He crossed his arms and leaned his head to the side until he arrived at a conclusion.

“Our goal—that of Fukuchi and I, at least—was to eradicate war. I joined out of curiosity and because it got me out of jail, but I stayed for that objective.” Tecchou nodded. He could understand as much. “I think I realised that I didn’t have a place in that group and I’m unsure if they would’ve taken me back after my failures. My priorities also shifted.”

Jouno bit his lip. “Their goal is still one I’d follow. But not when Dostoyevsky is pulling the strings. I doubt that this man’s goal is in line with Fukuchi’s, and I strongly believe that he’s using Kamui as a puppet. And, as I said, my priorities are different now.”

“What are your priorities now?” Tecchou curiously leaned his head to the side. He was glad that Jouno didn’t play with the thought of going back. Although he could’ve guessed that, as they were seated at the dinner table of their shared home. Maybe Tecchou hadn’t fully grasped that just yet.

“You. Myself. Living.” Jouno shrugged as though they were trivial things. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten my goal but it seems unattainable for the time being. If I had a better team then maybe, but I don’t.”

A better team. Tecchou wondered what the role of the Hunting Dogs would be in all of this.

He thought about picking up his chopsticks again but the thoughts about his friends lay in his skull like rocks. He didn’t want them to die or get hurt, and he didn’t want them to feel that harsh betrayal from Fukuchi that he’d had to go through all on his own. The best option was to tell them, but like Jouno had pointed out, that should be avoided.

“You’ll see them again.” It was as though Jouno had read his mind. But Tecchou was probably just too predictable. “I’m sure of it. And judging by your trust in them, I’m also carefully confident that we’ll have them on our side. Okay?”

Tecchou nodded. “I hope so.”

Jouno raised his hand from the table and for a moment, Tecchou thought he would reach out, but he seemed to decide against it.

“Then please finish your dinner so I didn’t force myself through standing in the kitchen with this stuff for nothing.”

~~~

The first night in his own bed was a blissful experience and Tecchou slept like he’d never had before. After that, it went downhill.

Nights were filled with pain, sudden intense bursts of loneliness despite having Jouno in the next room, and nightmares. It was the case for both of them. He knew this because they were both moody throughout the day, butted heads often, and had forced conversations that felt nothing but strained. The atmosphere felt like they’d moved in together out of pure necessity rather than voluntarily.

Jouno would get irritated at Tecchou for so much as breathing, and Tecchou had a hard time controlling his own annoyance when his sleep decreased even further to almost nothing at all. They fought mostly about stupid things and yet they seemed like the end of the world with one of them either leaving the house for a few hours, or both of them staying in separate rooms for up to a day.

Apologising with words was rare. Oftentimes, there wasn’t even one of them at fault, so it was useless. Instead, the person who felt the most guilty (which, in most cases, was both of them equally) would cook, clean, or do the grocery shopping even if it wasn’t their turn that day. They often ended up doing these things together. In silence, until there was either a necessity to talk or something came up naturally.

The second reason for Tecchou knowing about Jouno’s nightmares was that he could hear him waking up screaming. It woke Tecchou up, and his nightmares did the same vice-versa. They knew that nobody was at fault, but it still led to less sleep for both of them.

On nights that Tecchou was dreamless but Jouno woke him up, Tecchou always found himself unable to fall back asleep. It was nothing physical. His insomnia from the parasites only kept him up for so long (he’d eventually pass out into a restless sleep for a couple of hours), but it was more his thoughts that were eating at him. Every time, he wondered if he should go and comfort Jouno, or at least offer that. Letting one’s guard down around someone else was hard, though, and he had no idea if Jouno would appreciate him walking into his room after a bad dream when it was night and he was at his most vulnerable.

Pondering those options kept him up. And he always decided not to go, but then some guilt started to eat at him when he saw Jouno’s sleep-deprived face in the morning and they snapped at each other due to lack of proper rest.

But after three weeks, Tecchou had enough. When he jolted awake after hearing Jouno scream, he pushed down his own fears and the question of what he could even do for Jouno and got out of bed. He had to rely on his cane again these days even though his infection had disappeared, but the pain within his limbs had since increased. The way to Jouno’s room was short, though, so Tecchou walked without it and supported himself on doorframes or furniture if he had to.

His knuckles met with the wood of Jouno’s door but no answer came.

Tecchou waited for a few seconds and thought about just opening the door and looking inside real quick when he heard a ‘what do you want?’.

Jouno’s room was almost completely dark when Tecchou entered and he didn’t turn on the light, knowing the buzzing would bother Jouno. He blinked a few times until he managed to make out things in the room. Some minor light came in through the window from street lamps, but it wasn’t enough to paint a full picture for him.

“If you’re here to complain, forget it and go,” Jouno immediately snapped at him. “You can leave the apartment while you’re at it!”

“I wanted to check in,” Tecchou whispered, ignoring the harsh words. He was aware that this was most likely a defence mechanism to retain control and not let his emotions show. “Are you okay?”

Jouno stopped dead in his tracks, he didn’t even seem to breathe anymore. While his paralysis lasted, Tecchou carefully closed the door behind him and crossed the room before sitting down on the floor next to the bed.

“If you would like to share anything with me, I’ll listen.”

This wasn’t an offer any of them had said aloud. And neither of them had tried opening up about anything, probably due to their constant irritation and annoyance with each other. It was a vicious cycle that Tecchou was hoping to break. He had to, or else he was sure they would both go crazy in each other’s company.

Jouno remained in his statue-like state. Tecchou decided to not look at him any longer, as he could guess that wouldn’t be appreciated. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the wardrobe facing him.

“When we were little, my mother used to read to us. I could do that as well if it soothes you. I can lay down with you, or I can leave. I don’t mind.”

Tecchou leaned his body against the bedframe, not having the energy to keep himself upright. His body was getting worse, he had to be careful. But that wasn’t his priority right now.

“I can bring you a snack, we can chat. Make you a tea.”

He thought about how emotional and open they both had been in the beginning. Probably due to intense and heightened emotions, as well as the many changes. But things were more normal and stable now, so there wasn’t a rush or need to communicate many feelings anymore. They could be pushed back with the thought of ‘I’ll do it another day’ but that day never came.

Tecchou was guilty of that as well, though. And he wouldn’t force Jouno to talk. It wasn’t his place to, and he didn’t want to.

It was clearly audible, even to Tecchou, when Jouno’s lips finally parted. He was still completely stiff, but at least his ability to talk had returned.

“I never used to scream,” he mumbled quickly, as though he just wanted to get rid of those words. Jouno seemed to notice that himself and slowed down with his next sentences. “I’ve always had nightmares, but I never screamed. Waking my father meant punishment, and criminals put in a bad mood are quick to injure or even kill someone, even their own comrade if they’re pissed off. Having night terrors is seen as a weakness as well.”

Now it was Tecchou’s turn to go stiff as he listened. He didn’t want to make any noise to distract or interrupt him.

“I don’t know what changed, though. I heard you during the second night and something switched in my brain. I screamed the third night. And then I… Then I had a panic attack because I thought someone would hurt me. Maybe even that you would.” Jouno swallowed thickly at that sentence. “But that didn’t happen. I could hear you again, though. It woke you up and through the wall, I heard you say my name in shock. You stood in front of my door. You—” Jouno had to take a deep breath. Tecchou remembered the third night. It had been hard on both of them. “You didn’t come in, and I don’t think I would’ve let you. And then I heard you cry in your room.”

Tecchou allowed himself the smallest breath while Jouno’s picked up significantly.

“I didn’t feel guilty for making you cry. It made me glad. And I hated myself and that feeling ever since then because I thought I liked your pain, but that wasn’t it. I liked that you cared about me to the point of crying because I suffered. I screamed that night and all the times after because I can’t bear the nightmares, but I know I’m safe here. You are here. You won’t hurt me, which is the bare minimum. But you care. Which is more than I could ever ask for.”

At last, Jouno moved and the noises drew Tecchou’s eyes to him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his forehead on them while hugging his arms around his shins. Jouno looked small, but that was probably his intention. A small target, hoping to disappear out of sight.

Tecchou allowed himself to breathe normally again.

“Saigiku…” he mumbled, unsure of what to comment. “Would you like me to say anything or leave it at that?”

Jouno shrugged. “I don’t know.” His voice was muffled in his blanket.

Tecchou didn’t know if he even had anything to say to this. His mind was running at lightning speed because Jouno trusted him like this and appreciated his care, although neither of them had been good at showing it a lot.

In the end, Tecchou decided to just say what was on his mind. “I’m glad that… you feel safe with me. I feel the same with you.” This was where his thoughts ended. His nose started itching and he was afraid that it was tears building up even though he didn’t really feel like crying. Nevertheless, he wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and nose.

“Do you need anything else?” Tecchou asked. His other offers all still stood, but Jouno shook his head.

“I want to be alone again.”

Tecchou understood. He grabbed the bedframe and pushed himself up. Giving his body a moment to adjust, he let the bones in his back crack.

Jouno reopened his shell while Tecchou got ready to leave.

“Wait,” he said, so Tecchou stopped.

“Hm?”

Jouno lifted his arm until his hand was at the same height as Tecchou’s chest. “Squeeze my hand.”

An odd request, but Tecchou did as he was told. He reached out and took Jouno’s hand as though he was going to shake it. As always, Jouno’s palm was cold but Tecchou didn’t mind that. He squeezed it for a few seconds and let go again, not wanting to get too used to the feeling of touching Jouno like that.

He glanced at Jouno and watched a deep crease form on his forehead.

“What is it?”

“Tecchou, are you bleeding?”

“What?” He shook his head. “I’m no—” he remembered the itching in his nose. Bringing his fingers to his face, he touched the space between his nose and his lips.

Tecchou stopped dead in his tracks.

“Yeah I thought so…” Jouno mumbled, reading his reaction perfectly. “Your grip barely felt like anything at all, and you almost can’t stand anymore. It’s been over a month, hasn’t it?”

It dawned on Tecchou what Jouno wanted from him. So, he nodded in confirmation. “Yeah.”

Jouno sighed at the response. It was a dreadful one, and Tecchou felt that exact same feeling in his bones.

“I’ll do it tomorrow morning,” he assured.

“How?”

Tecchou realised he’d never really told Jouno about this. He didn’t know if he wanted to disclose it, as it might spark worry in Jouno, but now that they lived together there was no way around it.
“Heat up a knife, cut my limbs open, stitch everything shut.”

Jouno spoke with less worry and more disbelief. “You’re such an idiot, this is unsafe on so many levels, I can’t believe it.”

“It saved my life last time,” Tecchou pointed out but Jouno still wasn’t having it. He looked like he was debating this with himself for a moment before he noticed that nothing he could say would make Tecchou change his mind. “And besides that, it’s not exactly something I can go to a doctor with.”

Jouno gnawed on his lip. This time, with worry. “I’ll be there and help, in case anything happens. I’ll call an ambulance if I have to,” he decided after a while.

“You don’t need to if it makes you uncomfortable. You can leave and come back when I’m done.” Jouno shook his head at the suggestion.
“If I came back and found you dead, that would be such a pain… Not to mention the stench.” He made a face as though he could smell it already.

Concealing his worry with a snarky comment. Tecchou almost smiled.
“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

“Sure, sure.” Jouno waved his hand. “Don’t die in your sleep, now get out.”

Tecchou made an amused noise and turned around, thinking he’d seen Jouno mildly smile as well upon hearing that.
“Goodnight to you, too,” he told him and left the room to return to his own.

With a sigh, he crawled back into his bed. It wasn’t a heavy sigh, though. Tecchou found himself satisfied with their talk. Jouno opening up was the best possible outcome, and he was proud of him. Thinking about it, he should have told him that—but he’d have the chance for that later.

The positive feeling almost overshadowed the dread about the following day. There weren’t many things that Tecchou could remember as vividly as the scene in the hospital, and it was often the subject of his nightmares.

This time, however, he wouldn’t be alone. Jouno would be with him, and there would be no doctor to force medication down his throat or hurt him. With Jouno, he was safe. He held onto that thought until it lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Jouno knelt next to the bathtub Tecchou was sitting in, his entire focus on his roommate. With sweaty palms, Jouno held onto the edge of the tub, wishing it was something he could dig his fingers into and grab as tightly as he could until his muscles hurt. But instead, the hard surface merely made all blood vanish from the tips of his fingers.

He almost regretted his decision to stay with Tecchou but he couldn’t leave now. Not when Tecchou had already heated up the knife and was about to drag it across his skin and through his flesh. Not when Tecchou cared about him so much and Jouno wanted to show him the same thing.

“You look more scared than I am,” Tecchou noted but Jouno stuffed his mouth with the fresh cloth instead of replying. He’d pull it out once the cuts were done and patching up began.

“Shut up and get this over with.” He hoped Tecchou didn’t hear the shaking in his voice. If he did, he didn’t comment on it (not that he could) and instead let the knife dig into his skin.

Jouno clenched his jaw when beads of blood formed and the stench of it immediately reached his nose.

He was slow at first, but then Tecchou grew more confident—Jouno became dizzier the further he went while the smell mixed with sweat and burnt skin.

Tecchou had been right with his observation: Jouno was scared. When it fully hit him what he was about to witness, he felt afraid. He was scared that the sounds of Tecchou’s suffering would entertain him, that he wouldn’t end up helping him if he needed it. Or that he could even take the knife into his own hands and intentionally harm him for his pleasure. Losing complete control.

He’d hurt Tecchou so much already, so he thought himself to be capable of doing that as well.

He wasn’t only scared for Tecchou’s well-being, but also for his own. The thought of undoing all of this work and completely going back to what he’d been trying to deconstruct was scary. He didn’t know if he was capable of ever losing that enjoyment of other people’s pain, as it was too ingrained in his thought patterns from the long years he’d spent with this burden.

Applying that to Tecchou terrified him. And yet, it seemed so possible in his mind. Tecchou trusted him with his life right at that moment, but Jouno was afraid he’d take exactly that. And, in his mind, the thought was just as much of a sin as the act was.

Feeling sweat on his own forehead, Jouno wiped it away when a pained noise from Tecchou startled him. He stopped dead in his tracks and waited for the sudden rush of dopamine to make his head spin.

The sounds shook him to his core, crept up his spine. Felt like mud on his skin that rose to his face. Choked him, entered his mouth until he suffocated.

Tecchou screamed into the cloth. Muffled. But no less distressed.

Jouno was still frozen. Sweat dripped down his chin and onto his hand, feeling gross. He could hear the knife parting Tecchou’s skin centimetre by centimetre, his heart rate was insane. Tecchou’s breathing was staggered and heavy, as though he never got enough oxygen with the air he sucked in and forced out of his lungs in quick succession. Which made sense considering the cloth filling his mouth.

But Jouno didn’t feel anything. Nothing positive at least. It was pure, unpolished terror. His heart beat fast and he could feel himself sweating buckets. But there was no pleasure to be gained from the genuine, agonising pain that Tecchou felt.

If this would be the case with everyone—or if Tecchou was a weird exception—was something Jouno couldn’t tell as of right now. But it let him relax a little more and loosened the noose he had mentally tightened around his neck without noticing.

He reached for a small towel and used it to wipe some sweat from Tecchou’s forehead, keeping it out of his eyes.
“Keep going,” he encouraged in a whisper before letting Tecchou get back to work.

The only thing more terrifying than the scene playing out right in front of him was the thought that Tecchou had done this before. Without support, facing almost certain death. He would’ve met a premature and horrific death by his own hand while trying to save his life if it hadn’t been for the doctor that saved him.

He replayed Tecchou’s words inside his mind: when Jouno had asked him if all that he’d done to himself, all that had happened was worth it. Which, to Tecchou, it was.

Jouno clenched his jaw. Maybe this scared him the most out of everything.

The procedure took longer than Tecchou had told him it would, but Jouno didn’t judge him for miscalculating. The entire time, he didn’t leave his side. For most of it, he didn’t even dare to move.

Closer to the end, there was blood everywhere, the smell clouding Jouno’s senses. Tecchou’s pulse kept slipping into something that made him almost panic. Sometimes it went up to highs that Jouno’d barely heard from people, sometimes it went so low that the former criminal was sure he was losing him right then and there.

But to his surprise, Tecchou always came back and regained consciousness almost instantly. It was surprising that even with so little of the enhancements left, he could still take so much more than the average person. It made it obvious that his strength hadn’t only come from his surgeries, but also from so many other places. Tecchou wasn’t ‘nothing’ without them like Jouno had spat at him. It was admirable, yet concerning that he could push himself so far—and was always willing to do so.

Due to Tecchou’s consciousness slipping away frequently, Jouno found himself helping a bit more than had been asked of him. To be fair, he hadn’t been asked for anything. Tecchou had even offered that Jouno didn’t have to be there at all, but that would’ve been wrong of him. As long as he didn’t have to hold a knife, he was okay with doing whatever Tecchou needed.

And yet, his hands shook when he pressed Tecchou’s skin together with his left and pulled a needle through it with his right one. The arm beneath his fingers was sticky and slippery with sweat and blood, increasing the difficulty of the task.

Tecchou’s upper arm was a spot he could barely treat by himself, so Jouno had offered his help, albeit disguised as annoyance at Tecchou’s ‘incompetence’. Although, he had been reassured a million times that it would be okay if Jouno didn’t want to do anything—even when Tecchou’s eyes were half-closed and he was slurring his words. Jouno had ignored all of that and insisted on helping. To get this over whith, because Tecchou was incompetent, because they’d be here all day otherwise. Not because he cared.

Maybe, if Tecchou had offered him a knife, he would have reacted the same way. Although he couldn’t say that for sure.

If there was one thing Jouno was sure of then it was Tecchou wanting to live. Despite Jouno guessing that this had barely been the case since they’d met at the airport, he knew that it was the case now. Maybe a part of him wanted to live for Jouno. And that was terrifying, but it pushed him further so as to not let him down.

He pinched Tecchou’s skin with the needle again, dragged it through the small wound it created, and pulled the surgical thread all the way through.

Tecchou’s breathing was slow and light, but regular and he was still conscious.

“Do you need more painkillers?” Jouno asked through clenched teeth. He wasn’t sure if Tecchou would be able to swallow them and keep them down, but he didn’t want to take matters into his own hands and force them down Tecchou’s throat, as that was a boundary he’d clearly set with Jouno before starting this. He’d given him a run-down of everything that had happened at the hospital, which was still a shock to Jouno even before Tecchou had started cutting himself open.

Everything from the horrible hallucinations and the process to his encounter with an enemy from long bygone days had weighed hard on Jouno and made him nauseous prior to setting foot in the bathroom.

Tecchou had been open and straightforward with that, and Jouno wanted to do his best to match him in the future. Nevertheless, he knew it would be hard. His opening up about his feelings before had come from the wrong place. He’d realised that himself after Tecchou had theorised that anger and fear might not be his strongest emotions.

At that time, Jouno hadn’t fully been able to grasp that. But now he understood what Tecchou had meant by telling him that those emotions stemmed from an even deeper place. He was now fully aware of it but that fact made him not want to think about it anymore.

Jouno wasn’t at his most vulnerable when he was angry or terrified. He had much more to show and share with Tecchou than just these two.

Deep down, he’d realised it with his writing on the wall. The one thing he didn’t dare to address with Tecchou. The one thing that had started his anger and pain in the first place all those years ago. Jouno felt it deeply, and it scared him, enraged him. All caused by this deeper feeling, Tecchou’s actions had angered and scared him.

His former enemy had been right. And he was sure that he would have to address this again one day. But he was afraid of it.

Another part of Jouno’s withholding of information and feelings stemmed from wanting to hold some resemblance of control. This was much more obvious to him than the previous one, and a lot less bothersome to think about. Revealing things about himself meant weakness. Knowledge was power, and even though Tecchou wouldn’t make use of that power in ways to hurt him, it was still hard giving that up.

Usually, Jouno achieved power and control over situations by making someone afraid or hurting them, or by being a step ahead of them in a conversation as he was reading them, which left many terrified. But he couldn’t do that to Tecchou. Sure, he read his body’s signals in conversations to gain certain advantages—be it understanding him better or maybe winning a petty argument or two. The thing he wouldn’t do was use those things to evoke fear in his roommate.

And thus, he was stripped of his most powerful weapon against the mind of a person. Which meant that the only way to feel like he had control was through information and feelings that belonged to him.

Maybe he didn’t deserve Tecchou’s trust after all. Tecchou would cut his heart out of his chest and lay it into Jouno’s hands, believing that he would keep it alive. Jouno liked thinking that he would, but he’d probably second-guess himself. He would think about running a knife through it, throwing it away, or crushing it. Realistically, he would not do that. But did a thought count as much as an action? Did betrayal start at the execution, or at the idea?

Was Tecchou even aware of this? Did he know Jouno to be a horrible person who thought about betraying him on a whim? Someone who tried to have power and control over him? His mind spun, he felt dizzy. Jouno wanted to concentrate on the task at hand but he was afraid that if he didn’t get this out of his system, his hand would slip.

“Tecchou?” Jouno asked.

“Still here… Still no painkillers…” The words were a bit unclear and dragged out, but Jouno could understand him better than before. And he’d already forgotten that he’d asked that first question.

“Why do you trust me?”

“Hm?” But judging by the way Tecchou’s heart suddenly jumped, he understood that question so Jouno found it unnecessary to repeat it. Tecchou made a thinking noise but it died down quickly to save energy. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Jouno halted for a moment. Out of all possible responses, this was the one he’d expected the least. It wasn’t even a question that Tecchou asked himself, and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a thick bond of trust between them. Even though Jouno didn’t feel like he’d earned any of that trust or the care or anything at all that Tecchou gave him.

Jouno swallowed and forced himself to continue his job while coming up with something to say. He decided to just speak his mind.

“Because I withhold things from you out of wanting to remain in control. Because I’ve hurt you horribly and told you many times that hurting people is something I enjoy. I’ve killed people close to you. And yet, you trust me. Why?”

Once again, Tecchou spoke like this was the most obvious thing in the world for him. “Just tonight, you opened up to me about something. Saigiku, I don’t want to overstep but I think you have a hard time identifying where your feelings come from and additionally, you misinterpret them.”

Jouno chuckled dryly. “Do I now?”

Tecchou nodded weakly. “Yes. To be fair, I have the same issue. But I’ve realised that and thus I can work around it a little better.”

Jouno made a knot at the end of the wound and cut the thread he didn’t need anymore. He bit his lip as he reached for the bandages.

“You’re not convinced,” commented Tecchou and now it was Jouno’s turn to nod.

“What do you think I feel, Tecchou?”

The question made Tecchou shy away a little, but he seemed to realise it hadn’t been asked with ill will, so he thought for a moment. “You think that you don’t deserve to be cared for or to be liked in any way. This is partially my fault because I pushed you away, damaged your worth…” He flinched with a hiss when Jouno began to disinfect the wound. “So you make yourself a bad person in your head to justify… being pushed away and pushing people away.”

Jouno hummed, deep in thought. He made sure to apply an extra protective layer on the stitches to keep the bandages from touching them directly, before wrapping them securely.

“And how do you think you feel?” he questioned after a while neither confirming nor denying Tecchou’s words.

A sigh from Tecchou. “I make everything my fault. I know we came to the conclusion that it was circumstances that made us this way, but I still blame myself. Like you, I apply my current adult self to situations I experienced as a child. The mistakes I made back then are suddenly the doing of my current self, which makes them much, much worse.”

He lifted his leg a little and flinched when Jouno accidentally brushed the fresh stitches with his hand, but he didn’t say anything. Usually, he would insist on doing the ones down there by himself, but even Tecchou now realised that he was in no state to treat his own wounds any further, even in areas he could reach. Jouno got to work while Tecchou continued.

“I do take the blame that I should. I made severe mistakes as an adult as well, when I should’ve known better. It’s not every single little thing that’s my fault. But I still don’t think I deserve your forgiveness. I wanted you to be here with me, but I told you not to because I—” he swallowed, seemingly surprised at the fact that his following words were hard to speak. “I almost hoped that I would die and finally release you from the burden that’s my existence.”

Jouno didn’t halt his movements. Not because he didn’t want Tecchou to know that his words affected him, but because he didn’t, for even a single moment, want to stop showing that he cared for him like that.

Earlier, he had noticed the tell-tale signs of lying when Tecchou’d told him to leave. Besides that, Tecchou never lied to him. Jouno understood that, though. His mind and thoughts were conflicting with his feelings, as well as amongst themselves: thoughts didn’t match thoughts and feelings didn’t match feelings.

“You shouldn’t have lied,” Jouno said and got a nod from Tecchou. Jouno cut the surgical thread again as he thought about his words carefully. He was no stranger to the wish to die, and especially to the wish to lose his life based on what he thought would be best for others. But talking to another person—someone he cared about, at that—who experienced the same thoughts proved difficult. “I didn’t… notice that you wanted to die. I thought it was quite the opposite.”

“How so?”

Jouno swallowed. Although he was good at reading the signals from people’s bodies, he couldn’t read minds. He made educated guesses based on evidence and the thought patterns he observed. But he didn’t usually use that to sympathise with people or connect with them. “Because I think you’re still fighting. I think that even if I had left and something had happened, you would’ve called me.”

He felt a pair of eyes on him, thinking. They observed him like Jouno observed Tecchou, but only his face. Maybe they searched for a lie, but they couldn’t find any traces of that.

“I see… thank you.” His voice was earnest but a bit nervous. Jouno understood, talking about this had made him feel that as well. There was a light shaking in his words but he meant them, Jouno could tell.

Jouno pressed his lips together and swallowed thickly. Usually, he didn’t care. People could think of him whatever they wanted and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Hearing those words from Tecchou, however, felt different. And telling Tecchou these things was important to him, more than he’d admitted to himself thus far.

He didn’t ask anything else and moved on to Tecchou’s other leg with the bandages.

“How’s the pain?” he asked.

“Manageable. Thank you, Saigiku.”

Even after almost a month, it was odd to hear Tecchou call him that. But whenever the name fell from his lips, it felt so effortless. He didn’t force himself just to please Jouno, and he certainly didn’t mess up where other people would. It was almost like Tecchou had always done it like this, the only indication that he hadn’t was the slightly foreign feeling within Jouno.

He applied a bit of pressure on the fresh wound and Tecchou hissed but didn’t flinch. He knew how to stay still when it came to injuries, probably a habit he’d learned in the military. It was convenient for Jouno but thinking about how much being a soldier had changed Tecchou and how many of these habits were still in him surprised him every day.

For instance, Tecchou’s inner clock woke him up at five sharp every morning and he had trouble falling back asleep. At the beginning of their stay, he had attempted working out after waking up and had grown restless when he didn’t, but that had faded a little. Although it wasn’t possible for him at the moment, Tecchou still insisted on being active and Jouno supported that. They’d need to fight again eventually, and it was better if they didn’t unlearn any important offensive and defensive skills until then.

Their place was too small, however, so they would have to search for something different.

Blood trickled down his fingers and Jouno wiped it off on a small towel.

Moving a bit closer to Tecchou to get a better angle with the bandages, he noticed that Tecchou’s breathing and heartbeat had calmed down and stabilised. His biceps flexed and relaxed under Jouno’s touch when he adjusted his position in the bathtub.

“What if I had joined the military with you?” Jouno asked, surprising himself with that question. He didn’t usually allow himself any ‘what ifs’ and he was unsure how Tecchou viewed them. But the question just slipped past his lips. There was a long pause in which Jouno could only hear Tecchou’s and his own breathing and heartbeats, as well as his hands still working on the wound. For a moment, Jouno was even afraid that Tecchou had lost consciousness without him noticing, but then he opened his mouth.

“I’m certain you would’ve been an excellent soldier,” Tecchou said but Jouno wasn’t so sure if that would ever be a compliment. “I think we could have joined the Hunting Dogs together. Fukuchi saw something in you, after all.”

“Hm…” Jouno bit his lip. “I think he considered asking me to join the group but then he didn’t. So I ended up in the Decay of the Angel instead.” He wondered if his life as a Hunting Dog would have been much better. Living as a dog, just like Tecchou, and giving up his mind and body to the government that had failed him after the war. At least he’d retained some sort of control over his life and actions as a criminal.

Both options weren’t favourable, Jouno concluded.

“Do you think Fukuchi knew? About our connection, I mean.” Tecchou asked.

“I don’t know… I mean he had access to your files, so chances are high that he did. Though it definitely wasn’t part of his plan to have us meet, at least not so soon.” Jouno stilled as he thought about it. Fukuchi certainly was very intelligent and manipulative, but would he have been able to predict them leaving together?

And if not, then what about Dostoyevsky? Jouno shuddered at the thought of that man and his voice speaking of atrocities that he could barely imagine right into his ear. A whisper, smooth like silk but dragged across his skin like the harshest sandpaper. The sound of Dostoyevsky had always scared him, maybe even more than the things he spoke of.

Adding to that, he was a genius. He could plan things in so much detail that it would all fall into place perfectly. Was Jouno an anomaly? He wondered if he had been able to break out of Dostoyevsky’s plans, or if he was still in the middle of it, like a moth in a spider’s web believing it was still in the air—still freely roaming the skies.

In the past, people had complained to Jouno about his ability to read them so well based on their bodies. They felt unsafe with him because they couldn’t hide, but he had mostly mocked them, not caring that they didn’t like his perceptiveness.

But when talking with Dostoyevsky, he understood how those people felt. He laid bare in front of that man, all his cards open for Dostoyevsky to look at and pick out precisely the ones he needed to win the game.

He was not a person Jouno wanted as an enemy. But he was afraid that this was now the case.

“Saigiku? Are you okay?”

Jouno shook his head. He’d thought enough about Dostoyevsky, and spiralling around him was of no use.

“Yes. We’ll get back to all of that one day.”

Tecchou nodded. “Alright.”

Jouno finished up the leg and the rest of the wounds a lot faster than before. He then opened a drawer and took out a fresh towel that he lightly soaked in water.

“Can you wipe off some of the blood?”

Tecchou took it with trembling hands and began cleaning his limbs where bandages didn’t cover his skin while Jouno scrubbed his fingers with soap until the sticky feeling of drying blood was gone. He then turned to the pile of fresh clothes on the floor.

After helping Tecchou clean the spots he either couldn’t reach or struggled to wipe down due to pain in his arms while moving, Jouno came to sit on the edge of the tub instead of the floor. He put the pile of clothing on his lap and waited until Tecchou discarded the wet rag.

“Raise your arms,” Jouno ordered mildly.
Tecchou complied. With his fingers, Jouno figured out where the back of the t-shirt was, as well as where the holes for the head, body, and sleeves were. He turned it accordingly and held it above the man in the tub.

“You need to help yourself a little.” But it was redundant to tell Tecchou that, as he already knew. He slipped his arms into the shirt and let it slide down until his head popped out again. Jouno leaned over and tugged the bottom part down until Tecchou was wearing the t-shirt properly.

They did the same with his sweatpants but this was a bit more complicated when Tecchou could barely move, let alone stand up without great struggle or the threat of fainting.

They managed in the end and Jouno got him a snack before grabbing him under the shoulders to help him get to his feet.

Stepping out of the tub was another hard task. Jouno had to grab both of his legs individually and get them over the edge and onto the bathroom floor while Tecchou still relied on him for balance. When they finally got that after a few attempts, Jouno put one of Tecchou’s arms over his shoulder and his own around the other’s torso to safely get him to his room.

Unfortunately, Tecchou’s room was a few steps further away and Jouno considered just putting him in his, but he didn’t exactly want any of the blood in his bed, so the idea was discarded quickly.

Tecchou could barely use his legs but Jouno supported him all the way to his room. There, they turned around in front of the bed and then he slowly sat Tecchou down. He moved his legs onto the mattress and pulled his blanket over him.

“Rest,” Jouno told him but noticed how seemingly perplexed Tecchou was. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, I just…” He swallowed. There was something heavy in Tecchou’s voice that Jouno couldn’t identify and it irritated him, but he pushed the feeling down. “Thank you. You helped me a lot just now.”

Casually, Jouno shrugged. “It was nothing.” That was a lie. Caring for someone felt strange, but not in a bad way. He’d always thought he would grow frustrated with tasks like this but it truly hadn’t bothered him. Although, he had to wonder how he’d manage now that Tecchou was incapacitated for a few days.

“I think you did a lot for me,” Tecchou argued and Jouno sighed at that. Of course he’d disagree. Jouno didn’t feel up for fighting about that, however.

“Yes,” he simply answered before turning his back to Tecchou. “Please rest now, that took a toll on you. Call me if you need anything, alright?” Tecchou agreed and Jouno finally left him alone in his room.

~~~

“You seem better this morning.” Jouno set down breakfast on Tecchou’s nightstand. The first time he’d done that the day after the procedure, Tecchou had been radiating heat while shivering simultaneously, and Jouno’d had to half-drag, half-carry him to the bathroom to support him while he vomited his guts out. The days after hadn’t been much better, with Tecchou falling unconscious several times.

Jouno’s runs to the pharmacy hadn’t helped, but Tecchou always refused a doctor even when his fever was worryingly high and he rapidly lost weight due to not being able to keep his food down.

Although Jouno understood that seeing a doctor with those wounds on his body would raise countless questions, he’d also been afraid that he couldn’t nurse Tecchou back to health all on his own.

Luckily, it seemed to have worked out after a week.

“I feel a lot better,” Tecchou agreed. When Jouno went to help him sit up, he noticed that he could do that on his own again, and Tecchou even scooted towards the wall.

“Would you like to sit as well?” he offered.

After thinking about it for a moment, Jouno nodded and sat down on the mattress right next to Tecchou.

The space between them had been closing. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. Jouno felt Tecchou’s elbow touch his. It should be a casual touch, but he couldn’t deny it making his heart beat faster. He was nervous, for one reason or another.

To distract himself, he reached for Tecchou’s plate and offered it to him. “Eat.”

“Thank you.”

Despite their living arrangement and the time passing, Jouno’s skin still crawled whenever he had to prepare something for Tecchou or was in his vicinity when something awful was happening in the kitchen. The past week had been an insane test of his patience and stomach—he’d been living in constant fear that Tecchou wouldn’t be the only one hanging over the toilet for hours on end.

And yet, whenever Tecchou had told him he’d make his food himself, Jouno had declined. He didn’t want to pick up Tecchou from the kitchen floor if something were to happen to him. Eventually, Tecchou had given up but Jouno knew he was itching to get out of bed again.

“Would you like to go outside today?”

Tecchou stopped dead in his tracks, his piece of bread hovering mid-air in front of his open mouth.

“Are you serious?” Tecchou asked. When Jouno gave him a positive nod, his heart audibly skipped a beat. “Do you have anything in mind that you wanna do?”

Jouno made a face, feinting a deep thought process. Grocery shopping was done for the next few days, and he didn’t exactly want to walk around the market or any other stores with Tecchou today.

“The museum, maybe.”

Tecchou’s excitement faltered, but he didn’t seem disappointed. Jouno assumed that he was feeling bitter-sweetly about this, just like he did, so his hesitation was understandable.

Eventually, however, Tecchou nodded. “I think I would like to go there too, yeah.”

The rest of the breakfast was quiet. It felt like a big and sudden step, but it was something that Jouno had been wanting to do for a while. Although he knew he shouldn’t rush this if they weren’t both ready to be confronted by their pasts like that, he really wanted to get this over with the moment he felt somewhat ready.

If Tecchou felt the same way was something Jouno could only guess, but based on his reaction, he did.

He waited for him to finish his breakfast in peace, then Jouno exited the room for them both to get dressed. Reuniting by the door, they left the apartment just as quietly as their breakfast had been.

Tecchou clearly still struggled with walking, especially on the street where he clenched his hand around his cane so tightly it shook. His other hand eventually slipped around Jouno’s arm for additional support, which was also a benefit for Jouno: he’d be able to navigate crowded streets and especially the museum better this way without tiring himself out from having to concentrate on so many things all at once.

The weather was nice. It was getting warmer as the season drifted towards a stable spring, but it still wasn’t too sunny for Jouno’s taste. The light that was there felt nice on his skin, and so did the mild breeze brushing past him and through his hair.

Tecchou seemed more relaxed as well, and he even displayed some excitement at being able to leave the house again. He’d had to stop when his health ultimately declined and made it unsafe for him to leave, and then he’d been forced to wait for his wounds to heal up enough and for his fever to disappear.

They both sighed when the smell of fresh crêpes was carried over to them, and Jouno made a mental note of the location—near the park, not too far away from the museum. He could hear voices coming from there with little children begging their parents to buy them sweets. Less noise came from the museum, however. Jouno assumed this to be caused by the fact that it was the morning of a school day. So, most people visiting the exhibition would either be classes on school trips or older people.

Jouno just hoped for some peace and quiet, meaning fewer schoolchildren and more old folks.

Tecchou led them towards the entrance and purchased two tickets, as well as a small handheld leaflet and map for himself. They were given two audio guides and Jouno had to fight with his a little until he found the right angle for the stereo jack and earplugs to make the least annoying noise. Tecchou had no such problems.

They set everything up and paused in front of the entrance to the exhibition. Tecchou slowly removed his hand from Jouno’s arm, leaving him cold. He wanted to suggest that Tecchou could keep on using him for support, but no words would come out. Maybe it was better to give him space? Did Jouno want space? He was unsure.

“Ready?” Tecchou asked and Jouno nodded.

“Ready.”

Their steps sounded weird inside the narrow halls of thin, wooden walls, loosely constructed between more stable pillars. They mostly lacked an echo but Jouno could sometimes hear them vibrate or move on the floor minimally when they weren’t completely secure.

To protect the exhibition, there were no windows nor fresh air, so the rooms were kept at a good air quality artificially—buzzing above them along with the lamps.

Those were the things that Jouno noticed.

Tecchou, on the other hand, experienced the first room very differently.

His entire body tensed the moment they fully stepped into the exhibition. While his breathing stopped for a second, his heart rate picked up significantly. Jouno tried to reach out for him but almost jumped when the audio guide spoke into his ear way too loudly.

‘During the second half of the Great War, an attack hit the north-west of Japan…’

Jouno ripped out the earplug and fumbled around with the settings until the volume was more bearable again.

As he returned his attention to his surroundings, Jouno noticed that Tecchou had disappeared from his side.

“Tecchou?” Jouno whispered into the room. Despite the voice speaking into his ear and hearing other people in the distance, finding Tecchou by the sounds of his body would be easy. Asking for him was more a habit he’d developed by living with him.

After waiting for a moment, he received a “here!” back. It was strained, so Jouno crossed the few metres between them with quick steps. He got into Tecchou’s personal space, letting their arms touch. If it was for Tecchou’s comfort or Jouno’s own was something he didn’t question.

“Did something happen?” he asked Tecchou, who sighed. It carried the weight of a thousand deaths on his shoulders and let it slide down the few centimetres until it rested on Jouno’s as well.

He removed his audio guide, so Jouno did the same to keep his attention on Tecchou (they didn’t need them anyway, as they had both been there).

“There are pictures in this room. Of what the town looked like before and after the attack,” he explained. “Do you mind if I describe things to you?”

Jouno shook his head. “Go ahead.”

Tecchou swallowed. “There’s the bakery my mother always visited to get us pastries. The owner is standing in front of it, smiling. It was destroyed on the third day.” He turned his head to the right. “Our school held out for three months until it was hit by a series of bombs that killed over half of those seeking shelter there. Up to six hundred people. Our neighbourhood—”

Jouno was bad at comforting people. He hadn’t done it in years, but now he felt like he had to—he wanted to, even. With one hand, he reached for Tecchou and placed it on his shoulder. Applying a bit of pressure, he hoped it would divert some of his attention and be at least a little calming.

The hand around Tecchou’s cane moved momentarily, as though he wanted to use it for something other than supporting his body. But since that wasn’t possible, Tecchou only leaned his head towards Jouno as a silent way to appreciate the gesture.

He waited a moment to take a deep breath before he continued. “There is a photograph of our neighbourhood. The exact corner where the streets we lived in crossed. Where we met up for school in the morning in front of the villa. Where we met on the morning it all started. It was destroyed on day one.” Jouno gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He didn’t think that Tecchou would keep talking, but he did. “The text says that mostly families lived in this area and barely anyone who was home that day survived. Several bombs hit the streets, then soldiers in unknown uniforms shot the survivors.”

With a bit of hesitation, Jouno began moving his thumb. In a very small circle, only rubbing on Tecchou’s clothes. He didn’t know if it helped at all, as his roommate’s distress was still heavy in the air between them.

Jouno didn’t feel the negative impact as much yet. His mouth was dry and he felt a bit on edge, but that was about it.

Although Tecchou’s emotional state was something that concerned him, Jouno also felt a bittersweet sense of relief. After burying his feelings for over a decade, Tecchou was letting them slip and show. He’d been working on this, and Jouno could clearly feel the impact of that progress now.

Then again, Jouno didn’t think that even Tecchou from a year ago—in his prime as a soldier—would have stayed cold at being confronted with the images and texts his eyes jumped back and forth on.

He knew Tecchou to be an emotional person. He’d broken down completely after finding Jouno’s message as well as during their fight, and it had often left Jouno wondering if those had been emotions caused by the insane stress of the situation combined with his body falling apart and deteriorating his mind, or if he would still have reacted that way in a healthier state.

It was an odd thought since Jouno didn’t want him to break down like this ever again, but the fact that Tecchou felt so strongly for Jouno was—he pushed it away. This wasn’t about him, it was about their home. Jouno felt selfish and bit the inside of his cheek.

He listened to the heavy breaths coming from Tecchou, heard clear signs of hurt and panic in his heartbeat. And Jouno was here only thinking about himself. The fingernails of his free hand dug into his palm.

“Let’s go to the next room,” Tecchou said and Jouno agreed. His hand slipped off the shoulder and he tagged along closely behind.

The temporary walls that had been constructed for this exhibit led them straight, and Jouno figured that rooms would reach the very last real wall of the floor, then back in the direction of the entrance, before going into the opposite direction once again. It meant less complicated navigation for him, as he only had to follow a straight line before a simple turn.

The next room was a bit more spacious than the last.

Jouno gave the audio guide another chance but then decided to abandon it completely since it felt uncomfortable in his ear and narrated to him either nothing new or nothing that Tecchou couldn’t tell him while he was looking at pictures or reading the texts.

Tecchou’s voice had a weird, dull sound to it within the acoustics of this space. Although it was one continuing hallway, doorframe-like entrances had been constructed in between. It was a smart decision, giving visitors the impression of an internal switch to support the slight change of topic.

“This room details the first week,” Tecchou explained. “It goes over the initial shock, how many people fled, and how the military from the base near the town started to act. How many soldiers they had versus how many enemies. That they immediately found volunteers among the people who either couldn’t flee or chose not to.”

“Volunteers, huh?” Jouno spat the word out like its taste was foul. “Does it say how many children they took in?”

Tecchou shook his head. “No.”

With a scoff, Jouno crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Can’t say I’m surprised…”

Tecchou only hummed at that before continuing his stroll. “There’s nothing else interesting here. Let’s continue.”

In the following room, they caught up with a school class on a guided tour that had an elderly couple following them. Jouno assumed that they weren’t teachers but rather two people eavesdropping on the tour guide without having paid for it. Tecchou mumbled something about waiting until they were gone, so they did. Then they waited a bit more to give them a head start in order to prevent catching up.

“What’s this one about?” Jouno asked when he assumed the group to be at least two rooms away.

Tecchou gnawed on his lip as he looked around. “More military things. Why it took them two days to send anyone to the town despite being so close, and why we were so cut off from the rest of the country. Supplies going scarce, people being unable to flee.” He walked a few steps. “Then it details the time leading up to the exact moment the Japanese military came to our ai—fought in our town.”

When hearing the slip of the military ‘coming to their aid,’ Jouno pressed his lips together. It was obvious to him that Tecchou noticed and tensed a little, but Jouno didn’t blame him. He’d corrected himself out of his own free will and based on what he now considered right. Jouno had never told him what to think about this.

“Let’s continue.”

The final room before the turn to walk back elaborated on the first month of the war. Tecchou briefly went over the pictures on the walls, then they left. There were faint voices in the entire museum even though they were alone in most of the rooms they entered. It was starting to irritate Jouno that he couldn’t fully locate where people were, so he concentrated a bit more on Tecchou.

His footsteps, every second one accompanied by his cane. His breathing, that was a bit too quick and shallow. And lastly, his heart. It was fast with stress until it skipped two beats when Tecchou passed through the next doorframe.

His lips let some air escape and Jouno thought it could have been a surprised yelp or even a scream in any other context that wasn’t at a museum with other people.

“Tecchou?” Jouno quickly walked towards him but he wasn’t given a chance to put his hand on his shoulder again since Tecchou walked away from him and into the middle of the room.

For a moment, Jouno stood there, frozen, before he got his legs to move as well. He came to a stop by Tecchou’s side, gently bumping shoulders with him but there was no reaction. Barely any sounds came from Tecchou at the surface, but his body was loud: high blood pressure, slightly trembling muscles from being tensed too much, his breathing.

Carefully, Jouno raised his hand. Not to Tecchou’s shoulder, but he slipped it around the wrist of his free hand instead, just to feel his pulse. It was fast, a flood of anxiety, fear, and past emotions resurfacing. He was warmer than usual and that wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

A part of Jouno wanted to let his fingers slip lower until their palms were pressed against each other, but he didn’t know if that was appropriate, or if it was even something Tecchou wanted—now or ever. So, he remained where he was and waited for Tecchou to move again.

Two people crossed the room while they were there. Looked at everything the exhibit had to offer, and continued walking. Jouno could feel their eyes on him and he heard their hushed whispers from the next room, but he didn’t care. Not while he waited for Tecchou and put his entire focus on him.

Worry grew like a pit in his stomach that expanded exponentially when Tecchou freed himself from the light grip on his wrist, only to bury his fingers in the sleeve of Jouno’s jacket.

Of course, Jouno let him. He allowed Tecchou to hold onto him while the shaking in his body got more intense until it broke out of him. Not as tears, but as words.

“I’m sorry,” he managed. His voice sounded strained and a lot of the tension inside of him collapsed, causing his upper body to put more pressure on his cane before he caught himself again.

“Would you like to leave?” Jouno asked softly but Tecchou shook his head.
“No.” His breathing became heavy but that was nothing Jouno had to make Tecchou aware of, as he managed to calm it down on his own by matching the pace of Jouno’s lungs.

“Is it something you’d like to talk about?” came the offer. It was weird to say that. Jouno hadn’t done this in many years, and he had honestly forgotten that this question existed until Tecchou had said the exact same thing to him not too long ago. And after taking that opportunity, Jouno had felt somewhat better. Relieved, at the very least. All he wanted to do was to lift that same weight off Tecchou.

Tecchou’s chest rose and fell so deeply that it moved his shoulders and the hand holding onto Jouno’s sleeve. He felt a mild tug up when his lungs were filled to their fullest, then a move down when he exhaled again.

“It’s a portrait.” His voice was small. Suddenly, Tecchou was a child again, clinging to Jouno with big, teary eyes and quivering lips. But that wasn’t reality. The version of Tecchou next to him was an adult, a few centimetres taller than Jouno, and fighting to keep his composure. Scars littered his body, there were no tears in his eyes, and his lips were pressed together in between sentences. Jouno couldn’t put his finger on what exactly made him think of Tecchou as a child in that moment until he continued.

“A photograph of the Colonel.” Jouno had to hold his breath for a moment and Tecchou’s grip tightened when he spoke those words. “It’s a typical military portrait in full uniform but he’s not looking at the camera. Saigiku, he—”

His breath got caught in his throat and Jouno helplessly realised that he was at his wit’s end on how to comfort Tecchou. So, he just stood next to him, frozen.

“I can recognise him, and I can read his name, but… I can’t see his face. It’s not there.” Tecchou shook his head, blinked a few times, and returned his attention to the picture. “It’s like a void. Blacked out. I used to be able to remember his face but all of it is gone.”

As carefully as he could, Jouno used his free hand to open Tecchou’s fingers. They were cramped and trembled from tension, so he was sure they ached when Jouno finally made them uncurl. Tecchou flinched at the loss, but Jouno made sure to connect their palms.

He didn’t intertwine their fingers but held Tecchou’s hand like they had done as kids. Tecchou closed his fingers once more but with much less force. He was careful at first but when Jouno didn’t move or pull away, he let himself hold Jouno’s hand with a light grip.

It was warm. Jouno liked that against his own cold skin. Tecchou’s hands were still rough but they had softened considerably since he hadn’t carried a sword or fought for a while. But Jouno didn’t mind either way. This was not what he should think about now, however. He shouldn’t focus on himself and how he felt, but on Tecchou.

“Do you think of that as a bad thing?” he asked eventually.

Hesitantly, Tecchou shook his head. “I don’t know… It’s a weird thing. I’ve noticed missing memories before, and when I thought back to him, I assumed that his face has become just that: a missing memory. But now he’s directly in front of me and yet I cannot see him… I don’t know what to think of that. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I feel lost and a little scared.”

Jouno gave his hand a light squeeze. “I don’t think it’s something to be overly worried about for now. You… Tecchou, you realised what kind of person he was. I think that, over time, he might come back. Or he won’t. But either way, it’s not a bad thing. Give yourself time to process this. Everything was very sudden for you.”

“I just…” Tecchou sighed. “You tell me to give myself time, but I feel guilty about it. And I don’t know how much more time I—or we—have.”

“I know…” Jouno didn’t know what else to say. Words of comfort didn’t come naturally to him and no matter how much he spun Tecchou’s words in his mind, he didn’t know what else there was that he could say. He wished he could just make Tecchou feel better instead of having to talk. But he didn’t know how.

Where Tecchou felt guilty about taking his time to heal, Jouno felt guilt over not being able to show comfort without thinking of himself.

“Saigiku, you…” Tecchou made an almost frustrated noise as though he was angry with himself for the words he was saying. “Did you feel that way about the Colonel from the beginning?”

Jouno swallowed. He now understood Tecchou’s attitude towards his question. The Colonel was a sore spot for them both and they didn’t speak of him often.
“No…” he said carefully, then closed his mouth again. He wasn’t sure if he liked the direction of this either. Some things were better left unsaid, at least for the time being.

“Was there a cause, then?”

A question Jouno feared but he felt like it was inevitable. But inevitable didn’t mean he had to answer it now. “I’ll tell you another day. Give me time.”

Tecchou nodded quickly. “Of course.” He seemed relieved at Jouno’s calm reaction. It was good to be able to have conversations where they didn’t snap at each other after the hell that had been their first few weeks of living together. There would still be bickering, of course—neither Jouno nor Tecchou could help themselves with that. But genuine fights had died down.

He tapped his thumb against Tecchou’s hand again to get his attention. “Would you like to continue?”

A nod. Their steps synched as they walked: two shoes hitting the ground at the same time, then two shoes and a cane.

The next room was full of electrical buzzing and a sound in a frequency so high it made Jouno’s skin crawl. He didn’t think Tecchou could hear it anymore, but nevertheless, his roommate tensed next to him. He squirmed in place and Jouno noticed sweat forming and being trapped in between their palms.

Jouno forced his own spike in anxiety down, caused by the noise and Tecchou’s reaction. “What is it?” he asked. His thumb began moving up and down on Tecchou’s skin, a single desperate attempt to somehow comfort him. Even against his hand, Jouno could feel his pulse rising alongside his temperature.

Tecchou shook his head quickly. “Let’s just go.” He made a step in the other direction and tugged at Jouno’s hand.

When Jouno didn’t react immediately, he repeated, “I want to leave.” His voice sounded harsher now and snapped Jouno out of whatever had glued him to the ground.

Getting his feet to move, Jouno walked after Tecchou. They crossed the other rooms with quick steps in complete silence, but even though Tecchou had sounded angry with Jouno, he didn’t let go of his hand. They passed the class and the elderly couple, as well as the two people who once again gave them strange looks, and a few more visitors before finally exiting the museum.

The air outside was nice and Jouno thought it might help Tecchou collect his thoughts, but he kept walking with Jouno closely behind him. They promptly stopped at one spot and Tecchou sat down on a bench, Jouno next to him with a bit of space between them. Finally, Tecchou pulled his hand back and Jouno was forced to put his own on his lap. Cold, empty, and worried.

Tecchou’s heart was a mess. His muscles trembled, his eyelids fluttered shut and he wiped over them even though Jouno couldn’t detect any tears or sobs.

A part of him wanted to put a hand on his back, maybe even put an arm around him, but he refrained from establishing physical contact again. Maybe that wasn’t the right way to comfort Tecchou after all.

Luckily, he didn’t have to ask before the former Hunting Dog started talking.

“A full room dedicated to the Colonel,” he explained, voice shaking. “How he was a hero who killed some important people from the other side, and how he killed the woman known as ‘Lorelei’ but died from his injuries.”

“But didn’t you—?”

“Exactly.” Tecchou sighed. Jouno could guess that he wasn’t upset about the fact that he wasn’t mentioned as the one who killed that woman. His name not being immortalised that way was fine, but the Colonel taking his place might make him angry, Jouno assumed.

Jouno thought a bit differently about this. He thought that not even mentioning the child that had been exploited so horribly was not only incorrect, but morally corrupt. It angered him on Tecchou’s behalf, but he couldn’t get a word out before Tecchou continued talking.

“There was a TV playing footage of him. Again, I couldn’t see his face. But… the video showed me. It was about ‘training a new generation’ and ‘the smallest ones are fighting back’. I was so small, my sword was bigger than me. There was… Nothing at all in my eyes.” Although the words were spoken quickly, Jouno felt the weight they had on Tecchou.

“Nobody ever asked me how I felt. And I think that if they had, I wouldn’t have lost myself so much.”

Jouno had to agree. This was true for both of them, so it was a burden and fate they shared, like so much else.

“I don’t know who I am anymore, or if I could even go back to being someone.”

“Tecchou…” Jouno swallowed. He didn’t find words in him that didn’t sound hypocritical—because applying them to himself didn’t work. Anything he could say to support Tecchou or comfort him were things he knew he had to apply to himself as well but simply couldn’t.

“I shouldn’t have suggested going there,” Jouno said eventually, but Tecchou immediately shook his head.

“No, I’m glad we went. I wish we could’ve walked through the entire thing, but I can’t. Not right now. But I’m glad to know how life, the events, and the people were shown in there. I’ve met so many who minimised the horrors that happened here. This was realistic, but it also… glorified everything. Like there was a purpose in this suffering.” Tecchou struggled for words for a moment, starting and dropping them halfway through. “It’s not my experience. I understand why people want him to be this hero, and why he’s unambiguously good, but that’s just not—”

Tecchou cut himself off. His body lost all tension and he buried his face in his hands. Jouno flinched when his cane hit the pavement.

“Tecchou,” he mumbled but, once again, he couldn’t think of anything he could say.

So, he finally placed a hand on Tecchou’s back. He so badly wished that they were in their apartment at this moment, so they could lay down and Jouno could hold Tecchou like he’d always done in bad moments like this—back then, as kids. He hadn’t done this since. Like Tecchou had done with Jouno as well. Maybe it would help. Bring comfort, even if it couldn’t make the pain go away completely.

But he didn’t even know if that was something Tecchou wanted. He couldn’t read his mind, he didn’t know how to comfort him. If touching him was okay, or if Tecchou wanted to keep the space between them.

It slowly dawned on him that he could just ask these things, but the words got stuck in his throat even before they could make it vibrate with sound. Tecchou wasn’t usually one to voice his wants unprompted, which made it harder.

Jouno sighed deeply. It was hard to recognise himself like this. As a person who cared for someone else, as someone who let himself get closer to people and form bonds with them. A part of Jouno missed being the man who snapped at others with a venomous tongue and pushed everyone else away. A man who had the sole control over others.

Did Jouno still want to be like that, though?

He hated change. He hated having to find himself again. And yet, he kept going.

“Tecchou,” he repeated, but with a purpose this time. “What would you like to do now?”

A thinking hum to signalise that the question had been heard. Tecchou rubbed his hands over his face before dragging them down the length of it, placing them on his knees afterwards.

“You noticed that crêpe place too, right?” he mumbled slowly.

“You want a crêpe?”

“Mhm!”

“Let’s go, then.” Jouno promptly got to his feet and picked up Tecchou’s cane to hand it to him. Tecchou thanked him with a nod before standing up as well.

~~~

Tecchou’s choice of crêpe was atrocious. There was no other word Jouno knew that could describe it as anything other than that. Half of the blame for this crime against all of humanity—but especially against Jouno’s nose—was that the place allowed people to fully customise their crêpe. Tecchou took that very literally.

Jouno knew the place’s owner was sweating buckets as Tecchou spoke his order, and he heard him stammering under his breath as he searched for the ingredients that the man, who Jouno suddenly didn’t want to be associated with any more, asked for.

At last, his hands shook when the owner offered Tecchou the finished product. Jouno couldn’t even begin to identify or even describe what it was. He decided to just leave it be.

The man’s palms were a sweaty mess when he rubbed them together and then on his pants when he asked for Jouno’s order.

“One crêpe with vanilla ice cream and strawberries. Strawberry sauce. No whipped cream.”

For a moment, he’d thought of asking for the exact same thing Tecchou had, just to hear that poor man squirm again. But he chose not to. Sometimes, changing and finding himself sucked. But at least the food was good when he paid and finally sunk his teeth into the thin, sweet dough.

He sighed. All the tastes came together nicely and helped him to mostly ignore Tecchou next to him.

“Is yours good?” the exact man Jouno was trying to ignore asked all of a sudden. Jouno scrunched his nose.

“Yes…” he said. “It’s good.” Choosing not to return the question was futile because Tecchou spoke anyway, “Mine is too.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Would you like to try?”

Jouno wished to whack him over the head with something but he needed to hold onto his crêpe. “No.”

Tecchou shrugged and went back to eating. Having his mouth stuffed with the crime of a crêpe stopped him from speaking, so Jouno could get back to his as well.

They strolled through the park again but this time in a direction they hadn’t walked in before. Trees surrounded them, so Jouno missed the sun on his skin. But it was quieter around here. He appreciated the atmosphere and the lack of screaming children, so he could focus more on nature, himself, and his friend.

Calling Tecchou a friend in his mind was new. It had a nice sound to it, however; much better than ‘roommate’. Tecchou had definitely become a friend again, there was no denying that—and Jouno didn’t want to deny it. He treasured what they had now, and it made him realise how right Tecchou had been: Jouno’s strongest emotions weren’t anger, fear and sadness. Those were all born out of his relationships with people. The positive feelings led to fear of losing them. And Tecchou was one of these relationships.

It was still hard to accept, but calling Tecchou a friend would be a good start. In his head only, though. There was no way he could really say that out loud yet.

“That was so good,” Tecchou mumbled as he crumpled his napkin and paper that had held the crêpe. He walked to a trashcan and dropped it in, so Jouno did the same.

“Really…” he mumbled.

They fell silent again as they continued walking with no real goal in mind. Relaxing like this wasn’t something Jouno had done often since, throughout the years, he’d always been busy or it had been too dangerous for him to just walk around, even in foreign countries. But here, he felt secure. Having Tecchou by his side amplified that feeling, he thought. Security wasn’t something he was used to. If he thought about it, he’d never really felt secure in many places except for Tecchou’s house before the attacks.

Just kids.

It almost made him sad again to think about his life like this, so he chose not to.

“If we continue spending like this, either one or both of us will need a job,” he commented the first thing that came to his mind. Tecchou still had savings from being a soldier and Jouno had been well off before from climbing the ranks to being the leader of a crime ring, and being a part of the Decay of the Angel hadn’t been too bad either. Kamui hadn’t exactly paid them himself but the jobs he’d done for him had brought in quite a bit of money.

It was more than enough to sustain their current lifestyle but Jouno liked feeling more secure as the future was always uncertain.

“That’s okay,” Tecchou said. “If we both work and start saving, we can buy a nicer place together.”

“‘We’? ‘Together’?” Jouno asked. “Do you really want that?” The question left his lips before he could stop himself and he bit his tongue after. It sounded harsh, somehow like Jouno was the one who didn’t want to continue with their current arrangement.

Tecchou’s heart faltered and his tone became a lot more monotone in an instant. “If you’d prefer we don’t live together, then that’s okay too. Of course, I won’t force you. Whatever you prefer works for me.” Even though he was hurt by Jouno’s words, he was so genuine it almost made Jouno nauseous.

“No, I—” he sighed. “I do want to. It came out wrong.” he struggled to tell Tecchou what he was really thinking, and he mentally slapped himself for that.

Luckily, Tecchou was mostly unaware of his current mental conflict. He hummed, satisfied with the response. “Then we can buy that ‘traditional home on a quiet hill’ that you wanted.”

Jouno halted for a moment. “You remember that?”

“Hm? Of course.” Tecchou said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think it would be very nice if we could live in a place like that.”

“And you really want to keep living with me?” Jouno thought of himself as difficult and hard to be around. He could be moody and they had butted heads more times than he could count since their move. It was getting better but still, it was beyond Jouno’s imagination.

And yet, Tecchou nodded.
“Yeah!” It was so obvious again but it had never even occurred to Jouno. “We work well together.”

The fact that Tecchou had to somewhat like living with Jouno nearly made him throw up. He must have made a weird face because when Tecchou looked at him from the side, he laughed.

It was mild but genuinely amused. Short, with a smile that forced his eyes to close. A noise that lasted for no more than one and a half seconds. It was light and clear, warm, completely free of any ill intent or negative feelings.

Tecchou’s short laugh had been a representation and a product of pure joy.

And Jouno had caused it, albeit unintentionally.

That realisation made him stop dead in his tracks, causing Tecchou to pause by his side.

“Do that again,” Jouno breathed before he could stop himself. Immediately, embarrassment got to him but Tecchou was unbothered. “What?” was all he asked, coming down from the joy but still sounding rather cheerful than his usual, neutral self.

“Laugh,” Jouno clarified. “I want to hear you laugh again.” Tecchou made a step to turn and face him, so Jouno did the same.
“Why?”

Halting all of his movement, even his breath, Jouno tried to think. He didn’t really have an explanation. It was a stupid request and Tecchou was right to question him for it. But even just for himself, Jouno wanted to know why.

“I haven’t heard it in so long…” he managed. Almost sounding desperate, so he forced his mouth shut after.

Tecchou hummed. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve laughed since we were very young… I did the night I went to the hospital but that wasn’t genuine. And I haven’t heard you laugh, either. At most a bitter one or a fake one, or those born from the pain of others. I don’t know what it sounds like anymore,” Tecchou mused, unbothered by the weirdness of the request or Jouno’s lacklustre explanation.

They were close. Jouno could hear Tecchou’s heartbeat so much clearer like this but he didn’t dare to take another step. So many thoughts were going through his head at the speed of light, and he didn’t know which one to grab and put into words. He ended up pushing them all away.

“I like your laugh,” he heard himself say. Words not born from thinking. They came from a different place.

Tecchou’s heart skipped a beat and he clenched his jaw. His facial muscles moved abruptly. Had Jouno offended him? Was he taken aback? Angered? Jouno wanted an answer. And he got one.

“Thank you.” Tecchou sounded earnest and as though he was taking the compliment to heart. “Also for making me laugh. It feels nice.”

Jouno wanted it to repeat, but he was sure he couldn’t force it. He had to be patient. But he was sure he would hear it again someday, and maybe even more frequently. Furthermore, he wondered if Tecchou could make him laugh. He was sure that was possible.

“Of course,” he said like Tecchou had asked for him to pass the salt.

A breath of unspoken words left Tecchou’s lips, and Jouno felt the same on his tongue.

They didn’t let them bloom and continued their stroll.

Chapter Text

[15 years ago. Past midnight. Away from all eyes.]

Jouno raised his fingers to plug his ears.

“Don’t you dare!” The Colonel’s voice was like a thunder echoing through a mountain range. It shook Jouno to his very core and froze him for a moment before he obliged.

He hugged his own body instead and took some of the skin over his ribs between his pointer and middle fingers on each side, pinching so hard he was sure it’d leave bruises. His knees were almost against his chest when he pulled his legs even closer, making his body as small as possible. He knew he was still visible, the Colonel would always see him with those eyes that hurt on his skin because of how piercing they were.

Jouno wanted to hold his breath in hopes of disappearing completely—but in case he would finally be able to run, being light-headed would be a great disadvantage. But even if he ran, the Colonel would always catch him. And if he didn’t and let him go, there would be no coming back.

“Okay,” he said meekly.

He could hear the Colonel nod and hum in acknowledgement. Just a moment later, screams filled the room again. High-pitched and strained, almost to the point of cutting the person’s throat from the inside. They shook Jouno’s entire body even though the voice of another person usually didn’t have the power to do that. Jouno knew this because he had studied the way the human vocal tract worked. The vibrations were strong enough to make a glass shake, but not a person’s entire body. And yet, Jouno trembled.

The blood dripping to the floor was so loud he thought it to be a flood. But he knew this wasn’t the case: the Colonel focused on small wounds with maximised pain to keep the victim alive as long as possible.

He’d told Jouno that. He was narrating every single one of his steps in hopes the boy would ‘learn’ something. Every night for the past week. For hours and hours. And with no end in sight.

There was more the Colonel and the other higher-ranking soldiers did, too. It was behind closed doors that even Jouno wasn’t allowed to enter. They knew he could hear the electric buzzing and glasses clinking against each other, as well as smell the burnt bodies and unknown chemicals. So, although they kept him away from that as far as possible, they wanted him to be aware of it.

Maybe Jouno didn’t want to know what else they could possibly be doing. He had a vague idea, though: he knew of experiments on animals because of school. They had briefly addressed it in biology class, and two girls had cried. Jouno hadn’t back then. But now, he felt like it. The thought that there existed humans who had those things done to them terrified him.

Experimentation on animals prepared products and medicine for humans. Then what were these experiments for? It was beyond his imagination.

Even though they were his enemies, Jouno felt terrified. Because his best guess for the tests was that it would be applied to soldiers on his side later on. And all he could imagine was them strapping Tecchou down. His small body in the hands of these monsters disguised as good men as they injected unknown chemicals into his veins.

Tecchou would let them. And that thought made Jouno nauseous.

The experiments being conducted behind those doors made him realise something else as well. They had always been told that the warzone was cut off from the rest of the country. That was the reason why barely anyone had been able to flee, and why food was so scarce. This meant that whatever was being used for experimentation had already been in the military base. The thought caused Jouno’s stomach to turn. Those things had been happening so close to where they had grown up. Maybe deformed bodies had been dumped into the rivers Tecchou and Jouno had played in just a few months prior, during the last few days on which they’d seen the sun.

It opened the doors to so much more but Jouno was afraid of going through them.

A particularly painful scream pulled him back to reality. He felt like his ears would start bleeding any moment now.

Then, it was silent for a moment. The victim’s breathing was shallow. It was wet and seemed to cause him pain with every bit of movement.

Heavy, confident footsteps came towards Jouno and a big hand closed around his arm to pull him to his feet at once. Jouno’s legs almost gave in under his body but he forced himself to keep standing.

“Come, now.”

He obliged. The Colonel would never hurt him in the exact ways his father had, but he was still a rough man. If Jouno didn’t do as he was told, he would get yelled at or the Colonel would force him to be obedient. He was a good man, Jouno reminded himself. He was a soldier, a protector.

The grip around his arm didn’t open, even when they stopped and the Colonel picked something up with his other hand.

“Do you know who this is?” he asked.

“An enemy soldier,” Jouno mumbled.

“What was that?”

Jouno wasn’t good at doing the soldier thing Tecchou did so proudly. He couldn’t puff out his chest the same way his friend did and talk with a loud voice. But he tried anyway.

“An enemy soldier, Sir!” he repeated, earning a hum.

“Exactly.” The Colonel’s hand ruffled his hair but Jouno could feel a sturdy object rubbing over his scalp as he did so. “You’re a good kid.”
Not all of the Colonel’s touch was bad. Jouno liked being appreciated. He liked people telling him positive things about him. It made him feel a bit warm inside, and it even did that now. The Colonel was good, like Tecchou always said.

“Open your hands for me,” the man told him, and Jouno did what was asked of him. Just a moment later, a metallic cuboid with rounded edges was placed in his palms. He turned it along its four short sides to maybe find out what it was. When he found nothing of note there, he wanted to move up to the end of it, where the other half became heavier.

That’s where the Colonel stopped him.

“It’s a knife.”

Jouno froze dead in his tracks. “What?”

But the Colonel didn’t repeat himself. “I want you to kill him.”

The world stopped for Jouno.

‘I got my first two confirmed kills’ was what Tecchou had said with pride beating in his chest. For the first time in months, he hadn’t been sad or gloomy, or not really with him mentally. Jouno remembered his heart dropping at that. Not really at the content of the statement, as Jouno knew that both of the people Tecchou had killed would have done the same to him otherwise. But it was the context. Tecchou’s mother had (lovingly) hammered this into Jouno’s head over the years: they were just children. They didn’t have to be adults, and anyone who expected them to be or act like adults was stupid.

Jouno shouldn’t have been in the positions he was put in by his home life. They shouldn’t have to fight a war. They shouldn’t have to kill people. Jouno wanted to be a child again, but in Tecchou’s home instead of his own. He wanted his friend to be there with him. But he was so distant now.

The other thing that scared Jouno was the joy in Tecchou’s voice. Jouno didn’t know why he’d sounded like that. He was scared of the answers he would get if he were to ask.

Finally, Jouno shook his head. “No,” he protested weakly.

The Colonel didn’t care about that. “Cut his throat.”

“No!” Jouno could hear himself yell. He started trying to get out of the man’s grip but of course, that didn’t work. Nobody could overpower him.

The knife’s handle bit into Jouno’s palms but it didn’t harm him since the pain wasn’t even real. A pair of warm hands closed around his and trapped them against the cold metal.

No matter how much Jouno squirmed and tried to get away, the hands wouldn’t let go. They were rough from scars and hardened skin, scratching against Jouno’s more delicate ones. Big hands forcing those of a child. Jouno knew that feeling all too well.

A knee shoved him closer to the struggling man bound to a chair. The dripping of blood got infinitely louder and the smell of cut-open flesh even more overwhelming.

Jouno’s throat tightened and his ability to scream or cry escaped him. It was like someone had wrapped a cord around his windpipe and tied a knot, only barely allowing him to breathe. Voiceless and dry sobs shook his body. But the Colonel was persistent. He was a blank mountain wall pressing against his back until Jouno stood in the immediate vicinity of the soldier.

“He’s your enemy, Jouno,” the Colonel told him with a firm voice. “Kill him.”

Jouno pressed his lips together and shook his head but his opinion didn’t matter.

It happened too fast and yet it felt so slow to Jouno.

His hands were forced in front of the enemy with the sharp edge of the knife pointing towards him.

Jouno could hear weak whimpers and someone struggling against restraints that were starting to cut into their flesh.

When the knife was moved closer to the man’s neck, he could feel a bit of resistance. They had reached his throat. The resistance, however, didn’t last for long and his skin was parted by the sharp knife.

While the Colonel kept on pushing Jouno, blood began to spill from the wound. It drenched the edges of Jouno’s sleeves in a mere second and made his hands slippery—but still not enough to escape.

Jouno could clearly feel and hear every single vein they cut, as well as everything else in there. Jouno didn’t know anatomy very well, but this act made his own throat tingle dangerously, as though he was the one being killed.

Finally, gurgling sounds filled Jouno’s ears. Coughs followed. Screams that went nowhere. Jouno could hear him struggle against nothing but death—and there was nothing else that could be done. It would take him away in due time. All caused by the knife in Jouno’s hands.

And then, it all stopped.

The Colonel finally guided his arms back and the second he did so, Jouno started screaming. It was a mix of terror and pain and everything he felt at that moment, as it was too much for him to bear, so he needed an outlet for it. He started kicking, shaking his arms to get out of this tight grip.

Until he just did.

It was like his hands glided right through the Colonel’s, as though they weren’t even there.

The knife fell to the floor, where Jouno also found himself due to losing his balance after slipping through the restricting grip. Not only Jouno was in shock, but the Colonel appeared startled as well. He was the one to catch himself first, though.

“Interesting,” he muttered. Crouching down, the man was once again awfully close to Jouno.

“Pay good attention to what you did,” he said almost sweetly. “You killed him.”

Those eyes were on Jouno’s face, he could feel them clearly. The gaze could drill holes into his skull and come out the other side and there was no escaping it. One of the hands that had guided Jouno landed on his cheek and his thumb caught one of the tears Jouno hadn’t noticed were falling.

“You did such a good job, you were so brave.”

Jouno wanted to shake him off but he couldn’t. To his own horror, he leaned his head towards the touch. The Colonel’s facial muscles moved into a smile, but it was one that sounded so disgusting that Jouno thought he would throw up.

“If you want to survive in this world, you need to start enjoying the pain of others. Bask in it, Jouno. Let it fuel you. Feel the power and control.”

Jouno’s breathing became heavier. Control? He didn’t have that. Not over his body that was betraying him so badly right now. Not over his life and his situation. He wanted control over all of these things, but he didn’t have it. It was always taken away from him and slipped through his fingers like a breeze, never to be caught.

“You have to kill your enemies, Saigiku.” The use of his first name burned like acid. The Colonel’s breath fanned over Jouno’s cheek—completely surrounded and choked him. It was an arm around his throat, a hand pushing his head down and forcing him to stay there.

Through all of this, Jouno managed to nod.

“I understand,” he breathed.

~~~

[Present day. Time fades when there’s someone you—]

“Saigiku…” was all Tecchou could say. There were no other words he had for Jouno. None of comfort, none of pain, none of sorrow or pity. He felt all of these on his tongue, but he couldn’t speak them. Not even when he looked at Jouno, whose face reflected the need for them right back at him no matter how much he wanted to hide it.

There was about half a metre of space between them as they lay on Tecchou’s bed. Jouno with his back to the room, Tecchou with his back to the wall. An arrangement they’d never had as kids, as Jouno’d always hated it like this—his back towards the room, exposed and vulnerable. It was new but Tecchou didn’t mind it that way. He was glad that Jouno found so much comfort in his company.

That didn’t only go for his actions, but also for the things he was telling Tecchou.

The early morning barely illuminated the bedroom, making their conversation feel much more secret. Maybe it made it easier to talk.

“It’s in the past now,” Jouno told him. “There’s nothing to be done or changed.” He tried to keep his voice cold and Tecchou felt himself shiver. There was no need for Jouno to pretend like this didn’t affect him. Not anymore, and especially not in front of Tecchou. Maybe it was Tecchou’s lack of proper reaction that had caused this.

He slowly shook his head. “I—” Tecchou wanted to speak wishes of what he could have done differently: running away, trying to flee, listening to Jouno from the beginning. But he knew Jouno didn’t want to hear that.

He swallowed them again and tried to think of something different while his friend simply waited. It was impossible to tell if he was upset with Tecchou for his lack of response, although Tecchou believed he deserved to feel that way.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” were the words that eventually came out of his mouth. It was approaching the topic from a different angle, and he liked that. “I know you… needed a lot of time to tell me, so I appreciate it that you feel comfortable enough now.”

Jouno only nodded without saying anything.

“And, of course, I wish things could have been different, but we have to deal with how they are now.” He was very careful while speaking, looking at every single reaction from Jouno. There was currently not much he could work with except for Jouno adjusting his head on the pillow. “I hope you can move forward from this. And—I don’t know what goes on in your head, but I see improvements.”

Another nod. “I think so, too. They’re hard to feel because they’re so slow and gradual, but… a lot of the thoughts I used to have are illogical to me now.” Tecchou hummed in agreement.

For a while, he’d wanted to wipe his mind clean of everything, like it used to do on its own with bits and pieces. An actual fresh start was something he’d craved but Tecchou didn’t think those existed. Even with no memories, it would only be a pseudo-restart since his impressions and influence on other people remained, and his history was still etched into his skin. It was a hard task to learn how to live with the past, but he would try. He was trying.

Letting go of the guilt was the hardest. Tecchou had an easier time accepting his own grief than accepting that he’d severely hurt and damaged Jouno, either directly or indirectly. ‘Only children,’ was something Jouno had told him again and again. He didn’t mind Tecchou asking for reassurance. He didn’t mind anything Tecchou did or said out of these feelings. And Tecchou wanted to be the same for him. So, he was.

Jouno felt closer now. Physically and emotionally; closing the space and distance. Although Tecchou had known that Jouno wouldn’t disappear from his life again just like that, he could feel the connection more clearly now. It wasn’t only them reaching out for each other separately: they’d met in the middle and held onto one another.

But still, this morning, Tecchou hadn’t expected to wake up next to Jouno.

They had celebrated Tecchou’s birthday the day before with a nice homecooked meal that had been prepared by the both of them together. They had talked and played a board game, which had ended quite disastrously. He’d shortly called Andrei and Patrick, then they’d played cards. It was the best birthday Tecchou’d had had in forever. Even though he’d ended his day crying alone in his bed. Almost unresponsive, shaking without any control over his body.

Not all wounds were healed. Jouno had come to comfort him, but they hadn’t exchanged many words. Jouno being close had helped, though. At least it had allowed Tecchou to fall asleep.

And now, Jouno was still there after falling asleep next to him.

The golden light of the morning sun slipped through Tecchou’s window. He never completely closed his blinds since the full lack of light made him nervous, so the sun illuminated everything in the room.

It danced over Jouno’s peaceful face, tinted his hair and skin in a calming gold and orange. He looked warm, but Tecchou usually knew his skin to be cold. He wondered if it would be as comfortable as it looked if he reached out, but he was sure that Jouno wouldn’t like that very much.

“You speak so softly,” Jouno commented. The sudden words and their contents startled Tecchou, and he felt a frown form on his face.
“What do you mean?”

“I mean that…” Jouno sighed, trying to find the right words before starting anew. “Some of the thoughts I had. Before we fought, Gogol started telling me that you were trying to manipulate me. And that reminded me of my father. So I started comparing you to him. I compared myself to him as well and found so much of myself in him. And I did the same with the Colonel for me—and for you.”

Tecchou swallowed but didn’t dare to interrupt him.

“You became cold to me. Surrounded by death, terrifying. Your tone changed, the way you carried yourself, your hands became rough and so did your body. Outwardly, you became him. But his inner workings were something he planted inside of me. He raised both of us to be him. We’re different parts of him, though.”

Still, Tecchou couldn’t say anything. He’d done the same, he’d had the exact same thoughts. Somehow, hearing Jouno say them aloud was both terrifying and comforting.

Jouno’s hair moved like golden waves when he lifted his head from Tecchou’s pillow.

Tecchou’s heart almost stopped beating at the sight, despite the conversation they were having.

“Give me your hand,” Jouno demanded mildly. He propped himself up on his right elbow and opened his hands to welcome Tecchou’s.

Tecchou stared at them for a while, a bit confused—but when Jouno kept on waiting, he obliged and offered his right one.

Jouno held it in place and traced his long fingers along Tecchou’s skin. He was careful and it left an odd feeling wherever he was touched but Tecchou tried not to flinch or pull back. Like with the kanji back at the memorial, Jouno followed every line with his fingers. He was careful and slow, but Tecchou had no idea what the purpose of this was.

“Hm, yes,” Jouno mumbled after a while. “You’re not like him at all. Your hands are different. They don’t cherish the fact that they can kill.”

“Oh…” Tecchou’s thoughts were a bit jammed and he couldn’t quite get them in order. “Thank you.” He didn’t pull his hand away, and Jouno didn’t let go either. Instead, he felt up Tecchou’s arm and found the red patches of skin there, clearly different in how they looked and felt.

Jouno stopped for a moment.

“Is it okay if I check out your scars?” he asked.

Tecchou took a deep breath. “Yes, go ahead.”

On some spots, his skin was more sensitive to Jouno’s cold fingers, and when Tecchou flinched, they paused. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Tecchou breathed. “You can continue.”

Jouno nodded. He put his full palm and fingers on Tecchou’s forearm and dragged it up its entire length. Then, he went back to trace individual scars with fewer fingers.

“What were these caused by?” he asked.

His answer took a moment, so Jouno was probably putting two and two together already.

“Burns,” Tecchou told him, “from Russia. When the building… fell on me.”
Jouno nodded, a mix of embarrassment and amusement on his face. But he didn’t apologise. He’d been overly apologetic when they were children, but that had almost completely vanished once the war had started and Jouno’s father passed. His apology lingered in the air but Jouno kept his mouth shut and merely nodded.

Tecchou didn’t mind that. Jouno was making up for everything with his actions, and Tecchou knew how he felt about past ones now. Besides that, apologising would once again trap them in an infinite cycle of both of them trying to take the blame for everything. They’d gone over this so many times, it was enough.

“They feel like a patchwork carpet,” Tecchou noted to lighten the mood a little. “Some parts are super sensitive, in others, I can’t feel much. It also looks like that a little.”

He thought to see Jouno’s lips twitch the slightest bit before he moved on to the upper arm. The burns continued there, as well as one long cut from his last round of trying to perform medical procedures on himself, so Jouno didn’t comment on them.

Reaching Tecchou’s shoulder, the burn scars stopped, and so did Jouno’s movement. Tecchou hummed and moved away for a moment to pull his t-shirt over his head and discard it to the other end of the bed. Laying back down, he carefully guided Jouno’s hand back to his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Tecchou told him and his words were acknowledged with a hum.

His hand had absorbed some of the heat from Tecchou’s body, but he still shivered a little when it wandered down his chest.

It was nothing like the icy sensation of having his own sword on his skin, threatening and toying with him. Jouno’s touch was attentive. It was searching, if not exploring a little as it took in the details of his chest that were on its way, and came to a stop shortly beneath Tecchou’s right set of ribs where Jouno knew the next scar to be.

With only his index and middle fingers, he followed it. Slowly, across Tecchou’s stomach. It was slightly raised from his skin in pink and red or occasionally white by the edges where it had healed better. Jouno was careful as he followed it so the pressure didn’t hurt, but his touch didn’t itch or tickle either from being too light. Tecchou followed it with his eyes as it crossed over his now less prominent abdominal muscles until he reached his left hip. Jouno was holding his breath the entire time and only allowed himself to use his lungs again when he was done.

The curiosity had dried out. Now, there was a darkness on his face that Tecchou couldn’t identify, so he cautiously placed his hand on Jouno’s.

“Is there something wrong with it?” And when Jouno’s frown only deepened, Tecchou continued, “That doctor asked me ‘Does the look of yourself not frighten you?’ but it doesn’t. It didn’t back then, and it won’t ever. I did what was necessary to survive. In a way, this situation brought me on the right track, even if it was painful. I can’t undo what happened, and I’ve accepted it.”

Jouno shook his head slightly. “That’s not what I mean.” He sighed. “You’re such an idiot with no regard for your own safety and health, it’s actually unbelievable. I still can’t wrap my head around how far you went. You could’ve gone back home for help, but you didn’t. You did all of this for what?”

Tecchou squeezed Jouno’s hand slightly. “Last time you told me you didn’t like what I was implying.”

Jouno huffed in a mix of annoyance and something close to amusement. “Yeah, right.” He slipped his hand out from under Tecchou’s and grabbed it instead. With his free one, he pulled down the collar of the oversized t-shirt he usually slept in, and placed Tecchou’s hand on the straight scar beneath his collarbones.

Although he was a bit confused at first, Tecchou caught on that Jouno wanted to show him the scar as well.

It was still pink but parts of it were fading into white already, a lot more than Tecchou’s. This one had been his doing, with his own sword.
“Did it hurt?” A stupid question, Tecchou realised after the annoyed noise Jouno made instead of answering. He had been there as well, so he remembered Jouno’s screams clear as day. Of course, it had hurt.

The new skin didn’t stand out as much as Tecchou’s scars did and appeared rather flat. Some of the skin around was a bit warmer and reddened, probably from Jouno absentmindedly scratching himself when it itched. Tecchou could relate to that all too well.

“It’s healed nicely,” Tecchou commented and Jouno nodded with an agreeing hum.

Then, Tecchou took Jouno’s hand again. He had to scoot away from the wall and a bit closer to Jouno to allow him to reach around his head and touch his nape.

Jouno moved longer strands of Tecchou’s hair out of the way and found the scar there.

“What’s this one?”

“Tracker,” Tecchou answered simply and Jouno understood immediately.

“Ah…” He made a displeased face but didn’t comment on it any further. “Did you also cut that out yourself?”
“Yup. Back alley with my knife.”

“Idiot.” But Tecchou only smiled at that.

Jouno took Tecchou’s hand to his neck next.

His pulse was right beneath his fingertips when Tecchou felt the five centimetres long scar steeply going up his neck. Looking at it now, it appeared more like a harmless cut but Tecchou remembered the amount of blood that had spilled out, and how afraid he had been that Jouno would die from it.

He put his palm over the scar like he had done with the cut back then, but no blood painted his fingers red this time.

“This could’ve killed you…”
“Talk about yourself.” Jouno sighed and Tecchou felt the vibrations of his vocal folds under his touch. His voice was slowly losing that sleepy deepness, Tecchou noticed.

He scooted a tiny bit closer and closed his hand around Jouno’s once more. Surprise and mild shock tainted Jouno’s expression when Tecchou guided it to his face and put it down beneath his eye.

A small crease formed between Jouno’s eyebrows when he hovered around the beginning of the scar.

“I have a tattoo there, too,” Tecchou informed him. “Three cherry blossom petals. The scar splits them.”

“Oh? What do the petals stand for?”

Tecchou smiled, making the skin Jouno was resting his fingers on move up slightly.

“One for my mother, one for the Hunting Dogs, and—” he squeezed Jouno’s hand for a moment. “—one for you.”

Jouno turned his face towards the pillow momentarily but then faced Tecchou again. “Okay,” he whispered and began tracing the scar while Tecchou’s hands gently held Jouno’s and let him lead. Over his cheekbone with the most careful touch.

“How did you get this one?” Jouno’s voice was barely audible but Tecchou could see his lips moving.
“Russia again,” he answered, just as quietly.

Jouno’s fingers wandered down his cheek. They had lost a bit of their steadiness and Tecchou wondered if Jouno was still tired, or if it was caused by something different. He was afraid that his own hands were the ones shaking, creating the illusion of Jouno causing it. But he kept them on his friend’s while he traced the scar.

He followed it all the way down Tecchou’s cheek until he reached his lips. Jouno’s fingers stilled there.

No sounds filled the room except for their breathing, and Tecchou heard his own heartbeat in his ears. It was loud and fast, and he was sure his breath was slightly staggered. But so was Jouno’s.

Jouno didn’t move, as though he was thinking deeply about something. Not even a single muscle in his face shifted even a millimetre. He was completely still except for his chest in a steady up and down.

“Saigiku, I—” Tecchou finally started, but Jouno interrupted him.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t say a word or I might change my mind.”

With that, he removed his fingers from Tecchou’s lips and leaned forward, catching them with his own before the feeling of touch could vanish.

It was with the same tenderness that Jouno’s touch on his scars had shown earlier. Just as soft, too, if not softer. The only difference was that Jouno’s lips weren’t cold. They felt warm and alive when he placed a gentle, lasting kiss on Tecchou’s.

Tecchou reciprocated. His mind was running at a billion kilometres an hour but he decided not to think at all. He closed his eyes and just let himself feel: his entire body was tingling like he was young and stupid and in love—and maybe he finally allowed himself to be all of those things. He felt warm and safe, but, most of all, happy. As he smiled into the kiss, his hand wandered to rest on Jouno’s cheek, while Jouno moved a bit closer to him without breaking them apart.

Tecchou knew that gestures like this came with feelings. At least for him they did, and it only proved to him that Jouno felt the same way. Even though neither of them had said anything about that just yet.

With every touch, Tecchou felt alive. The words he hadn’t been able to speak so far were being put into an action, reciprocated by Jouno. It was a wordless conversation in a language that only Tecchou and Jouno understood. And they spoke it perfectly.

Every time Jouno’s lips brushed against Tecchou’s, Tecchou understood what Jouno was telling him. About the pain he’d felt as well as the positive feelings. Their care for each other, their luck to be with one another, and their joy of being able to live.

It combined all of the gestures Jouno had shown him: living together, holding his hand, making him laugh, and falling asleep next to him on his birthday. For Tecchou it was the act of finding Jouno, not giving up on him, being someone Jouno could finally rely on again, and helping him find himself.

Tecchou adored Jouno in ways he’d never adored anyone, and he kissed him unlike any person before.

Their kiss lasted and so did their silent conversation, although Tecchou knew he still wanted to speak these words eventually. Only then would he feel whole. But for now, he would allow himself to experience this.

The electricity under his skin spread through his entire body and made him feel comfortably warm.

Jouno carefully pushed Tecchou until he rolled onto his back, still not letting go. He propped himself up on his right elbow while the hand of that arm played with Tecchou’s hair, his left one casually rested on his chest.

Tecchou opened his eyes to look up at Jouno when he felt him pull back at last. For a moment, he chased after the feeling, but Jouno signalled him to stay in place with a light press on his chest.

He thought that Jouno might want to say something, but he only absent-mindedly ran his fingers through Tecchou’s hair, fingernails scraping on Tecchou’s scalp nicely.

A part of Tecchou wanted to close his eyes again and just enjoy this closeness as it was, but the bigger part wanted to look at Jouno. Look at how close he allowed himself to get to Tecchou, and how Tecchou allowed Jouno into his space. He wanted to look at the face that had shown him so much malice as well as fear and sadness over these past few months, but now looked so—

Tecchou let his thumb stroke Jouno’s cheek. Up close and in the light of the morning sun, he could see small creases near his mouth and eyes. Tecchou liked thinking that he got those from smiling more. From being happier. He wondered if they could form over the span of just a few months, but then he just decided they could. Because he knew for a fact that Jouno was happier now.

Tecchou didn’t think that the past would ever be left behind completely, not with what was yet to come, but he was sure they were slowly reaching normalcy. Both he and Jouno had reached a point of healing and recovery that allowed them more than just a focus on themselves.

He brushed some of Jouno’s growing hair out of his face and behind his ear, then put his hand on the back of Jouno’s neck to pull him down and into another kiss. Jouno obliged.

This one was less careful and lost all the last fears Tecchou’d had at the back of his mind during the first. Jouno’s fingers stopped massaging his scalp when their lips met once more. He could feel Jouno smile again. It was a wonderful sensation, almost better than the kiss itself, and Tecchou pulled back just to look at it.

It was slightly crooked—another guard let down behind the perfectly calculated mask Jouno wore. It played with the barely visible freckles on his cheeks and around the bridge of his nose, and almost formed dimples.

“I like your smile,” he mumbled.

“Shut up,” Jouno told him again but Tecchou knew he was a bit flustered and didn’t mean it.

Jouno assumed his previous position and just relaxed there, hovering slightly above Tecchou. He paused, seemingly thinking and gnawing on his lip for a moment which made Tecchou want to kiss him again. He’d only done it twice but it was already something he never wanted to stop.

Although Jouno had initiated the first kiss, his expression wasn’t what Tecchou had hoped. The smile faded slowly, and it was easy to tell that something else was bothering him. Tecchou suppressed the urge to simply try and kiss it better, so he waited for him to talk again.

“Sorry,” Jouno eventually mumbled. His face had grown cold from the warmth of the kiss, like a candle blown out. Concern made itself known in Tecchou’s chest but Jouno shut him down before he could voice it. “I…” He sighed. “I have some other things I should’ve mentioned before. I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that.”

Tecchou immediately shook his head. “It’s okay,” he reassured him. “I liked kissing you and nothing you could say could change my feelings about that. About you.”

Jouno chuckled rather dryly. “I’ll take your word for that, then.”

A breath left his slightly parted lips.

“The message,” he started, voice already wavering. “In Warsaw. I… For that, I would like to apologise.”

Tecchou had to clench his jaw to stop himself from interrupting. Although Jouno suddenly looked so uncomfortable in his own skin and almost like he wanted to push Tecchou away all over again, he stayed.

A part of Tecchou wanted to let Jouno know that he didn’t have to talk about this if he wasn’t ready. He didn’t have to talk about this ever if he didn’t want to. But he knew that Jouno wanted to push himself right then and there. It was important to him, and Tecchou had to admit that it was also something he wanted to talk about, even when he placed Jouno’s comfort above it.

“I didn’t allow you or myself to address it because I felt so ashamed and guilty. I used so many things against you during that time, but the message…” Jouno shook his head. “I wanted you to break. I was so angry at you and at myself. Tecchou, I truly hated you during that time. I still somewhat liked you when we parted ways years after the war, but then I became more and more unlike myself. I made you the source of everything bad in my life and that intensified a thousandfold when we met again at the airport, on two different sides.”

A few deep breaths. Tecchou’s hands remained right where they were. He didn’t dare to let go of Jouno. Not now.

“I wanted you to really understand what you put me through. Or what I thought you put me through. I knew you still cared about me because you called me after I got out of prison, and chased after me across several countries—even though I tried telling myself that it was only for the sake of arresting me. And you kept saying it was for justice, but I didn’t believe you. So I used that against you. I don’t know what my end goal was. But I killed that man and used his blood to write on the wall.”

Jouno had started shaking. For the first time in so long, Tecchou saw tears glistening on his white eyelashes but none dared to fall just yet.

“I was still in the building when you found it. And I heard you break down and apologise over and over again while you screamed until you couldn’t anymore. I was horrified at that moment. It was exactly what I wanted to achieve, but it was also the moment I realised I was wrong. There was a version of you in my head that I made up. It was close to the Colonel. But in Russia, when you were so… When you touched me so gently despite me almost killing you, and when you broke down, I realised that I was wrong.”

Tecchou moved his thumb over Jouno’s cheek to catch his first tear. The first one Jouno shed in front of him after all those years. And instead of pushing Tecchou away, Jouno leaned further into his touch.

“I used your feelings for me—whatever they might have been at that moment—against you. I weaponised them, turned them against you in the worst way possible.”

A sob shook Jouno’s body, forced him to pause. Tecchou waited a moment for Jouno to collect himself before he continued speaking.

“And what I said was true for me at that time. ‘I loved you’.” It sounded like the words hurt to say, and it pained Tecchou to think that they did. He could feel it deep in his heart as a dull, almost empty agony akin to loss.

Immediately, Jouno noticed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, causing Tecchou to open his mouth but he couldn’t say a word. His own tears didn’t allow him to. Just now they started to fall, and while he didn’t feel embarrassed about that, he didn’t want Jouno to hurt even more.

Jouno lowered his face until his forehead rested on Tecchou’s bare chest. He could feel tears fall onto his skin and moved both of his hands to hug Jouno and simply hold him.

They cried together. Tecchou was sure they hadn’t done that since the early days of the attacks. It felt connecting in a way. Not like the kiss had, but in a different one. It wasn’t like words being spoken, nor was it a conversation. This was about sharing grief, shame, and guilt. They existed in the same space, connected by all of these things, and they let themselves feel them.

“Tecchou,” Jouno managed through sobs. “These words aren’t true for me anymore.” His body was shaken hard. His hand moved from Tecchou’s chest and closed around the blanket they had shared at night, clenching it until his knuckles turned white.

He raised his head, allowing Tecchou to see his face. Red around his eyes and nose, skin glistening with tearstains.

They were the hardest words for Jouno to speak. Tecchou knew that before he could even begin to figure out what they were. Nothing else hurt Jouno like these words, as though they were actively cutting his throat as he was trying to say them.

But finally, he did.

“I love you, Tecchou!” He raised his voice to the point where he was yelling and sounded almost angry with his tone strained as though he’d been screaming for hours. “Fuck, I love you! And I want you to love me too, but I—I don’t know if you should!”

Everything in Tecchou’s world stopped. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe while Jouno forced himself out of his tight hug to sit up further. His cheeks were tinted red from anger and crying.

“I love you!” He yelled again. The hand that had previously played with Tecchou’s hair now pulled his own, then his fingernails dragged over his tear-stained cheek, leaving white trails that quickly turned red when blood returned under his skin.

It was like an attempt to escape from his body, slip out of a prison that caused him nothing but pain. But it was futile. If Jouno were to continue, he would merely add physical pain on top of the mental agony that remained.

Tecchou quickly reached out and caught that hand, finally breathing again. “Saigiku,” he said firmly to catch his attention. “Saigiku, please calm down.”

His head spun. He felt like he was on that excavator again looking over the field, wanting to cry and laugh and scream all at the same time. But he forced himself to stay calm.

“Saigiku, please.”

Jouno almost ripped his wrist from Tecchou’s light grip, and Tecchou opened his hand on his own. Luckily, Jouno stayed relatively still now.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded, keeping his voice low and as softly as he could even though urgency slipped through. It earned the most exasperated sigh from Jouno.

“I’m so—angry.” Tears began to fall again. Tecchou didn’t know which emotion was causing them. Jouno was still loud and it almost sounded like his throat was breaking apart. “I just want you to love me, I don’t know if you ever did, but I want it to be the case! I don’t think you should, though! And it makes me so angry to the point where I hate everything and myself, and I hate that you were right! All along, my strongest emotion that everything else came from is love! God, just saying that is awful!”

Tecchou shook his head at the complete change from being lovingly kissed by Jouno to him crying and now yelling. He’d barely seen Jouno this emotional, so the incredibly quick change was overwhelming him. Even with Jouno just showing one emotion and being vulnerable that way was usually enough to have Tecchou overthinking his actions and how to react.

So, he said the only thing he thought was right.

“Saigiku,” he tried. “I love you too.”

If Tecchou had ever allowed himself to imagine a confession, this wouldn’t have been it. He would have probably imagined one between the sweet kisses they had shared, or during a heartfelt conversation. But he didn’t feel like he’d lost that. He didn’t mourn what had never happened, at least not in this situation.

Jouno slowly shook his head. It wasn’t because he disagreed with what Tecchou was saying—but in complete disbelief. “What?”

“I love you,” Tecchou repeated. The exact same words in the same order as the last time. And he would say it again and again and again if he had to or if Jouno asked him to.

Jouno completely deflated. His head sank back onto Tecchou’s chest and he didn’t move anymore except for breathing. All anger was gone, as though Tecchou had knocked it out of his body with a clean punch instead of a love confession.

Tecchou was still at a loss for what to do. His hands vaguely hovered in the air, unsure if he could touch Jouno or if he’d just collapsed there and wanted to be left alone. He didn’t say anything either.

In a way, Tecchou understood the bottled-up emotions bursting out all at once in quick succession. He’d experienced it as well, after all—so he couldn’t blame Jouno for that, not one bit, even if it had been surprising to witness. Tecchou was sure that more stability and openness would also help Jouno regulate everything better. They’d both been working on that, but today had been a lot for them already.

Finally, Jouno opened his mouth. “You’re not lying,” he observed, voice a bit raspy now. “I don’t know what came over me. I just… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Tecchou told him. “You can let it all out, I’ll be here. I can take it, and I gladly will.”

Tecchou felt him nod. It was slow and tired. Nothing like the Jouno who’d kissed him earlier, but that was okay. He was still the same in Tecchou’s eyes, and he always would be.

“Is it okay if I touch you again?” he asked but Jouno shook his head this time, so Tecchou placed his hands on the bedsheets far away from him whereas Jouno lifted his head and upper body once more.

“I want you to, but there is one last thing.” Jouno swallowed. “The last thing about love from a man who can’t seem to take it.” A cold, dry chuckle that almost sounded like self-pity. He gave himself more time now than earlier to sort out his thoughts, calm down more, and collect himself. Tecchou thought that Jouno might feel a bit embarrassed about what had happened, but he truly didn’t mind.

“Earlier, you said you liked my smile. And I like your heartbeat,” Jouno admitted slowly. “It sounds… so excited and happy. Not right now—my bad—but it did during and after we kissed. Like an upbeat song, you know? It’s weird to think that I was the one who caused it.”

Compliments sounded odd coming from Jouno, but Tecchou would never complain about that. Not when they made him feel so warm. Although, he never minded Jouno’s harsh words either.

“It used to sound sad,” he explained. “That started with the war. And I was waiting for that to go away, but it never did. On that day you left, you sounded closer to how you used to as a child, and I was scared that…”

He swallowed and Tecchou wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him with touch, but he refrained from it.

“That you had become like me. That the thing that hurt you the most became the thing you clung to. And that this is the same case with me. Why do you love me, Tecchou? Is it only because I caused you pain? Am I the substitute for the battles you seek? Are you my substitute for hurting people? Do I only think I love you because I was hurt by you, much like I’m drawn to others’ pain because of all that happened?” He shook his head. “Am I even capable of what people call love, and am I worthy of it?”

Tecchou held his breath for a moment. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it, and he didn’t even know where to start with this.

“Saigiku,” he let the name come over his lips to make Jouno feel heard. Furthermore, he tried to put all the adoration and love he felt into that word. He wanted it to be much more than just a string of sounds. More than a word and a name. It carried meaning for him—emotional weight. Love, most of all. Jouno shuddered lightly but didn’t say anything as he waited for Tecchou to say more.

“I’m not your substitute for hurting people. You’re not my substitute for battles. What I feel for you is so much different. It’s not—adrenaline and giving up everything I have, even my body. Of course, I would do that for you and I almost did, but I feel like I’m learning how to exist with someone who respects me and loves me as a complete person. I value you, I value everything about you. I don’t think I need a substitute for battles or justice. And I don’t only love you through pain because you hurt me and I run after that feeling.”

Tecchou bit his lip. He didn’t believe he was making much sense and he could feel Jouno growing restless.

“When we were kids, you were my friend. That was before everything. And you hadn’t hurt me. Right? But I still liked you. That never faded. You’re worth so, so much more than fighting. I don’t only love you to fill a void, and I surely don’t love you because of the pain. I love you despite the pain and with it. Because you’re important to me, Saigiku.”

Jouno stayed silent, probably because he could feel that Tecchou wasn’t done just yet. “As for you—I can’t look inside your head. Now more than ever I wish I could, but it’s not possible. But you talk about control and wanting to harm people. And what we have is the complete opposite. I don’t think you could easily choose to do all the things that you’ve done for me if you didn’t at least feel some sort of love for me.”

A faint nod. Not convinced, however.

“But how would you know?” Jouno asked. “How do you know that the love is real?”

“Would this be so bad if it wasn’t?” Tecchou blurted out. He noticed he started sounding desperate. “I… Of course, I want to be loved by you and I want to love you, and thinking that this isn’t how it is hurts me terribly, but would it be awful if that weren’t the case?”

Jouno made the most confused face he’d ever seen on him. “What?”

“I mean that…” Tecchou gnawed on his lips for a moment, recalling the exact feeling of Jouno’s there, although that had been much softer. “I think that it doesn’t matter what caused our feelings. I love you, Saigiku. And whether that’s completely authentic or not doesn’t matter. We are here together. Being together makes us both happier, like we’ve noticed. And isn’t that enough? Even if it’s not authentic love—although I doubt that—it’s still good for us.”

Jouno’s frown deepened and Tecchou was afraid he’d have to explain it all over again.

“You freaked out earlier when you confessed to me, you cried to me, you kissed me. I think it’s love, Saigiku. I really do.” Now it was Tecchou who felt his tears building up again. “I think this is another one of the things your mind comes up with to punish you. But don’t let it win, Saigiku. Please.”

It was completely unclear if Tecchou was pleading with him or lecturing him. Neither of them could tell. Words spilled from his mouth in desperation and sadness but the way they came together was foreign.

“I love you,” Tecchou affirmed again.

Another weak nod, then a question, “Are you angry with me? For doubting that?”

“No. I just… I want you to understand that. I can’t be mad at you for this. It hurts me deeply but I know it’s not your fault. I just hope that, somehow, you can recognise it.”

Jouno sighed. “Okay. I’ll work on that.” One of his hands reached out for Tecchou’s and he put their palms against each other before intertwining their fingers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. And I didn’t mean to do most of the things this morning.”

“God no, Saigiku… I love the things you did. Please don’t stop with them, ever. I wouldn’t love you if it wasn’t every single part of you.”

A smile almost flashed across Jouno’s lips. “Okay… You can touch me again if you still want to.”

Tecchou lifted the hand that wasn’t occupied by Jouno’s and cupped his face. The tearstains were still there and Tecchou was sure there were fresh ones on his own cheeks. He felt Jouno lean into his touch and into the palm that Tecchou had previously been afraid would be too rough for him or feel too much like the past. But, much like Tecchou, Jouno loved every part of him. Every perceived flaw and perfection.

“Can I also kiss you again?” Tecchou asked. This time, Jouno’s smile stayed.

“Gladly.”

Jouno leaned down with a mumbled confession against Tecchou’s lips.

It was still a new feeling. Both to be kissed and to be kissed by Jouno. But Tecchou couldn’t get enough of it. He enjoyed when Jouno explored him like that—with lips that allowed themselves to travel to his jaw, then down his neck and up again until they met Tecchou’s once more.

Tecchou wanted to grow used to this feeling but not in a way where he’d become indifferent to it. No, he was sure that it would always be filled with immense adoration and warmth, no matter how many times Jouno kissed him or the other way around.

Being told he was loved wasn’t entirely new. He’d heard it from his mother, and he’d received those words from Jouno before. But the context was different now. The feeling was different. And it was more than Tecchou could ever ask for or give to anyone.

~~~

[Months pass quickly when there’s someone you love.]

A day in the life of Suehiro Tecchou.

Tecchou looked into the mirror. His image looked back at him.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence anymore, but it still surprised him occasionally. His skin looked good, didn’t hang loosely over his cheekbones. He got a tan over the course of the summer, whereas the scar had gotten paler from its former rich, pink colour. It was still clearly noticeable under his fingers as well when he lifted his hand to touch it, but he didn’t mind that.

Tecchou stared into his own eyes. Small creases around their corners adorned his skin there. His eyes looked back at him. Not dull and empty, but alive.

The first time he’d noticed this change, Tecchou had started sobbing. He’d sunken to the bathroom floor until Jouno had rushed in to comfort him, only to realise that his tears hadn’t been ones of pain or grief. These days, Tecchou felt his heart swell at the sight. Sometimes his eyes would still water, but that was rare.

He leaned his head to the side and some of his hair fell into his face. With a steady hand, he brushed it back behind his ear.

Tecchou offered himself a mild smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, so he tried again. This time, he got it. It looked kind. Or at least, he hoped it did—it was his goal, after all. Smiling and laughing both felt a lot less foreign now than they had at the beginning. That, too, made his heart feel warm.

Finding joy in improvements and becoming himself was something he’d grown to love. He’d learned so much about himself: what he liked, disliked, wanted, needed. It had been an odd learning curve but he could now speak his mind more easily.

Tecchou blinked and let his smile fade just when the door to the bathroom opened, bringing it back naturally. In the reflection of the mirror, Tecchou watched as Jouno made his way inside, groggily dragging his feet over the tiles.

Without speaking a single word, Jouno snaked his arms around Tecchou’s abdomen from behind and pressed their bodies against each other. He placed his chin on Tecchou’s shoulder and faced the direction in which he believed the mirror to be.

“What are you staring at?” he asked with a yawn.

“The mirror.”

“And what do you see?”

“Myself.”

Jouno raised a mocking eyebrow. “That was totally unexpected.”

“You asked,” Tecchou defended himself. “Besides that, this hasn’t always been the case.”

“I know.” An apologetic kiss landed on his jaw, then Jouno’s lips trailed down the side of Tecchou’s neck. They were warm and his kisses were sleepy, but Tecchou found them only strengthening his smile.

“Good morning to you, too,” he sighed.

Jouno pulled away when he reached the neckline of his t-shirt and instead let his long fingers slip under the hem at the bottom of it and pulled it up until it exposed the scar on Tecchou’s stomach. Over time, Tecchou had learned not to flinch when the cold fingers of his partner started running over it, so he didn’t today.

He’d never asked why Jouno did this so often. He had theories from it being comforting and a reminder of how far they’d come, all the way to a painful reminder of their fights in the form of punishment for himself for the things that had happened.

Deciding to set that aside for now, Tecchou simply leaned his head back and placed it on Jouno’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He followed Jouno’s hand mentally, feeling the light touch move from his hip to his ribs before he pulled the t-shirt down again and returned his arms to their previous position. He inched even closer to Tecchou until their bodies were so close that Tecchou could feel all of Jouno’s warmth. Placing his arms over Jouno’s, he decided not to let him go for a while.

“Good morning,” Jouno finally said. His breath smelled of coffee but Tecchou was sure it hadn’t kicked in yet, judging by how tired he still seemed with his voice deep and laced with sweet dreams.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked and Tecchou shrugged.

“Dojo this evening. But besides that, not much. Groceries are done, and so is cleaning for the week.”

Jouno hummed. “I was assigned the evening shift today.” Visible annoyance appeared on his face. “We don’t get as many customers in the evening and apparently I was ‘rude’ to someone yesterday and she complained, so they moved me to later in the day until I ‘learn how to behave’.”

“Sounds like your own fault.”

“She started it!”

“Mhm…”

Jouno clicked his tongue when he clearly couldn’t convince Tecchou of his innocence. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” he decided and instead placed another kiss on Tecchou’s neck.

The arms around his body loosened and allowed Tecchou to turn around and finally capture Jouno’s lips with his own while his hands moved to cup his cheeks. The skin under his fingers was slightly warmer from the annoyed blush and the sleepiness not quite having faded yet. Like usual, he let Jouno lead despite the fatigue still obvious in the way his lips brushed against Tecchou’s. It wasn’t his normal, even rhythm but Tecchou adored every moment of it.

The kiss didn’t last too long and Jouno took a step back. His mild smile changed into a critical look with furrowed brows.

“What is it?” asked Tecchou. He followed Jouno’s hand with his eyes when he reached out to touch his hair, frown deepening.

“You haven’t brushed your teeth yet and your hair is filthy,” Jouno assessed.

“You haven’t either! And it’s not! I just washed it…” he thought for a moment. “The day before yesterday! It can’t be that bad.”

“With that 3-in-1 shampoo?!”

“Yeah, and?”

Jouno sighed in exasperation. “You’re an idiot through and through.” A finger was stabbed in the middle of Tecchou’s chest, accusatory and giving his words more weight. “Sit down in the tub, I’ll wash your hair!”

Tecchou sensed that there was no arguing with Jouno, although he somehow felt like this was simply an excuse he’d come up with. No matter what the truth was, he obliged.

Tecchou obtained fresh clothes from his room under the strict supervision of Jouno, then put them near the bathtub in a neatly folded pile. Next, he pulled his sleeping shirt off and discarded it to the side but picked it up again when Jouno critically cleared his throat and crossed his arms in front of his chest until Tecchou lowered his head in shame and created another neat pile of the clothes he’d worn.

Finally, he sat down in the tub and Jouno rested on the edge of it. He kept his legs outside and twisted his body, which seemed uncomfortable so he ended up putting one of his legs on the edge as well. It made turning easier but increased the risk of his pants getting wet.

When Jouno grabbed the showerhead, Tecchou asked, “Would you like me to do the same for you today?” But Jouno declined.
“I’ll shower after my shift and I don’t know if you’ll be awake then.”
“It’s okay. I can stay up.”

Jouno hummed. “You really don’t have to. And besides that, I also need you to shower again tonight when you’re back from the dojo.”

“I always do!” Tecchou almost sounded a bit offended, making Jouno laugh coldly.
“I’m just saying!”

Raising an eyebrow, Tecchou didn’t comment on that any further.
“We can share a bath if it helps you relax after work,” he suggested instead.

“I’m not very fond of swimming in your sweaty and dirty water!” The showerhead was pointed directly between Tecchou’s eyes but then Jouno’s expression softened into a smile. “But yeah, we can do that.”

He instructed Tecchou to pull his knees to his chest so he could turn on the water and test its temperature without accidentally burning or freezing his toes off. Once again, Tecchou obliged, and he watched the water start to pour out of the showerhead and down the drain. It was steaming lightly and Jouno used his free hand to judge the temperature. He decided it was too hot and lowered it slightly, nodding when he tested it once more. He asked Tecchou to give him his hand and check it as well.

“It’s good like this,” he confirmed and stretched his legs again (or at least as far as their small tub allowed him to—he now wondered if suggesting to bathe together had been a good idea). Jouno moved the showerhead over his body and eventually reached his hair.

Tecchou closed his eyes and let the water pour on him. Unlike rain, he’d never minded showers much. The resemblance to past events was minimal, and the context was different: showers cleansed him of the dirt and blood on his body. Tecchou pushed arising memories away, as they didn’t have a place here in this moment.

After a few seconds of just water, Jouno’s free hand collected loose strands of hair to get them wet individually.

“Is the temperature still okay?” he asked and Tecchou nodded.

With a satisfied hum, Jouno took all hair he could reach and let the water run over it, before turning it off and taking the bottle of shampoo they’d picked out together for Tecchou—and which he’d been neglecting to use.

Jouno wasn’t an expert in hair care by any means. Compared to Teruko, he knew very little about it but he did his best to encourage Tecchou to take care of himself in every way. And to treat himself, even if it was hard sometimes. Tecchou did the same for Jouno, after all.

He opened his eyes momentarily and watched Jouno pop open the bottle before squeezing a generous amount of light blue liquid onto his palm. It didn’t have a strong smell. Faint blueberry, which Jouno claimed fit Tecchou well, so he believed him. Jouno also smelled faintly sweet. He preferred neutral smells as well, nothing too intense, and Tecchou liked that.

After closing the shampoo again, Jouno spread it over both hands and Tecchou closed his eyes to protect them from burning when the liquid was worked into his hair.

First, he generously spread the shampoo and appearing foam broadly over everything, then he ran his fingers through individual strands front to back to coat everything.

The last step was certainly Tecchou’s favourite: in circular motion, Jouno’s fingers massaged his scalp. His slightly longer fingernails scraped over his skin and got a deep, satisfied sigh out of Tecchou. He leaned into the touch as much as he could, chased it when it changed its position.

“I could swear you start purring like a cat whenever I do this,” Jouno chuckled. In return, Tecchou couldn’t get a word out.

Shivers went down his spine when Jouno came close to the base of his head and then worked back up from there. He was always so thorough, a big contrast to how Tecchou usually did it. And yet, Jouno let him do the same thing for him in return without complaints about technique or other details.

Going back to the ends of Tecchou’s hair, Jouno worked the final bits of foam into the tips.

“It’s getting quite long,” he commented casually.

“Should I cut it?”

“I like it the way it is.” Jouno thought for a moment, before adding in a teasing tone, “Just means more work for you.”

“I used to have my hair a bit longer than this,” Tecchou remembered. “Back then, I wore it in a low ponytail for fighting, so I think I should get a few hair ties again.”

“I like that idea.”

Jouno dropped Tecchou’s hair and grabbed the showerhead once more while turning the water back on. After washing the remnants of the foam off his hands, he shortly gave a verbal warning before holding the water above Tecchou again. It ran down his head and body, washing off the shampoo.

Jouno waited for a few seconds before he began to run one of his hands through his hair to make sure nothing remained.

Enjoying the last round of Jouno lightly massaging his scalp, Tecchou thought about whether he should ask his partner to do this more often, or if he should keep it as a special occasion that occurred once in a while. He knew that he shouldn’t purposefully deprive himself of nice things and ones that made him feel good, so he decided to bring it up soon.

His eyes were still closed when Jouno turned off the water and left the edge of the tub shortly to grab a towel. Dropping it onto Tecchou’s head, he began rubbing out the water starting on top of his head and then working down. The towel also felt nice, but not as good as Jouno’s hands alone.

“You really are like a cat.”

Tecchou chuckled at that and finally opened his eyes when the fabric disappeared from his head. Looking up, he found Jouno smiling down at him and offering him the towel.

“You can dry the rest of your body and brush your hair. I’ll be by the kitchen table.”

Tecchou leaned his head to the side. “But it’s my turn to make breakfast.”

“Well, Tecchou, did you hear me say anything about me making breakfast?” His expression had something slightly poisonous to it and yet he leaned down to place a kiss on Tecchou’s wet forehead. “I’m getting hungry, so don’t take too much time.”

“Of course.”

The moment the bathroom door was closed again, Tecchou dried himself. He wiped down the bathroom mirror and brushed his hair which took a while due to knots he had to untangle. Then, he put on his fresh clothes and joined Jouno in the kitchen for breakfast.

The meal was nice and quiet. Jouno mostly ignored what Tecchou was eating except for a snarky comment or two but Tecchou was too immersed in whatever was on the screen of his laptop, so he barely noticed. He only looked up when Jouno asked what he was doing.

“Looking at houses,” Tecchou answered briefly while clicking on another link. “I think that looking for one already would be helpful.”

When Jouno pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything more, Tecchou reached out and took his hand.

“I insist that we get one before.”

This had been an ongoing conversation between them: buying a house now or waiting? There were a lot more things that factored into this but Tecchou didn’t like thinking about them too much, if he was being honest. Jouno didn’t either, but he brought these aspects up whenever their conversation shifted to buying a permanent home together.

“I don’t know if our situation is stable enough,” Jouno argued with more grief in his voice than anger. “Chances are high that you are actually considered a criminal already and I surely am.”

“But how is that different from how we live now? The situation won’t change much—we’ll only relocate.”

Jouno shook his head. “You still don’t understand the concept of money, do you, Tecchou?”

Heat crept up Tecchou’s cheeks. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

His partner sighed. “I do want to buy a home with you, but if we have to flee, then we might have problems with money being tight and so on.”

A good point, Tecchou had to give him that.

“And besides, we don’t even know if either of us will survive the next phase of the Decay of the Angel’s plan.”

“Don’t say that, Saigiku.” Tecchou squeezed his hand, then lifted it to press his lips to his knuckles. “Please don’t.”

“I just want to stay realistic and think about all options.” But Tecchou shook his head.
“We’ll come back together. And when we do, we’ll have a nice home to return to. We’ll come back to our usual routine and continue our lives. We’ve survived so much, so we can survive this as well.”

Tecchou didn’t even want to consider the futures Jouno imagined for a single second. After leaving the military behind, one of his wishes had become to lead a mundane life. When he’d achieved that, he’d felt like he had aged by sixty years for a while. Tired physically and emotionally, without purpose or any drive whatsoever. But that was gone now. He was living. They both were. And for Tecchou, that kind of life was only complete with Jouno by his side.

Still, Jouno looked like he wanted to protest.

“We will come back. Both of us. To this life,” Tecchou assured him. “Okay?”

Jouno finally nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t sound fully convinced but Tecchou let it slide.

After a final kiss on Jouno’s hand, Tecchou returned his attention to his screen. “I think this place is very nice. It currently offers tours.”

Making a face, Jouno sighed before giving in. “Fine. What day?”

“Friday sounds good?”

Jouno nodded. “Sign us up then.”

There was a rush of joy in Tecchou’s blood when he typed out an email to ask for a tour of the place. He’d instantly fallen in love with the building and it even had a little garden. The way to the city wasn’t too far either. Exactly what Jouno had described to him as his dream, and just what Tecchou had imagined when listening to his words.

After sending his message, he looked up at Jouno again.

Not only Tecchou’s hair was getting longer, but so was Jouno’s. However, he got it cut more often—albeit by a professional since he refused to trust Tecchou with scissors anyway near his hair. It framed his face nicely and he’d developed a habit of brushing it back behind his ear to stop it from tangling with his earring.

Jouno sat on his usual kitchen chair with his legs crossed neatly, dressed in clothes like he could go outside any second, as opposed to Tecchou’s usual look of sweatpants and a t-shirt that he always wore inside. At all times, Jouno looked so effortlessly beautiful, even in a mundane scene with his third cup of coffee in his hand. His other one acted as a resting place for his chin while his elbow was on the table.

“You seriously have a staring problem, Tecchou.”

“I love you,” was what Tecchou said in return, smiling when he noticed he’d flustered Jouno with that. He dropped his chin from his hand and placed his palm on his forehead instead, feigning annoyance.
“Yeah, whatever.” But he couldn’t hide his smile. “Go do the dishes, I’ll be in my room.”

Tecchou obliged. It was his turn after all, so there was not much else he could do.

He joined Jouno in his room later and grabbed the novel they’d been reading as well as his notebook and pen from the nightstand.

“Do you wanna finish the book?” he asked, already laying down and resting his head on Jouno’s chest as he knew the answer to be ‘yes’. Jouno confirmed that which proved to Tecchou that he was just as eager to finish the story as he was.

He opened the page where he’d left off and began reading the last chapter while Jouno lazily played with his drying hair.

Tecchou’s mother used to read to them when they’d been young, and Tecchou thought to remember attempting to read a page or two to Jouno as well, but he’d struggled greatly. Not all of those struggles had evaporated, unfortunately. Due to his lack of actual school education, Tecchou couldn’t read that many kanji. He’d been raised on books about weapons, so reading anything not war-related or appearing in everyday life was littered with characters he’d never seen before.

Sometimes he felt embarrassed for that. Lacking reading skills for kanji that were seen as more common and didn’t have furigana as a reading help next to them was something he’d started feeling a certain level of shame for. So, he’d avoided reading anything until Jouno had noticed his behaviour and gifted him a kanji dictionary. His partner had encouraged him to learn and practice his reading, and Tecchou always noted down characters he hadn’t known before in his notebook.

This time, it went smoothly. Tecchou only paused twice to look up kanji, then neatly drew them on his paper before moving on.

Jouno held his breath on the last page and only breathed out very slowly when Tecchou closed the novel and set it aside.

“What do you think?” Tecchou asked without lifting his head.

“You did a good job with reading, Tecchou.” Although he was flattered by the compliment and felt a blush on his cheeks and pride in his chest, that was not what he meant.

“And about the story?”

“It was nice,” Jouno said. “I enjoyed it. The ending was very fitting, too.”

Tecchou nodded. “I think so as well. I also liked the protagonist a lot.” He thought for a moment in which he only looked at the ceiling. It was an idea he’d been playing with for a while but he hadn’t quite had the courage to voice it yet. “Do you think I should go back to school? When we return home? Maybe I can find one online… Then I can read many more stories to you. Graduate properly and find a better job.”

Jouno shrugged, but it wasn’t because he didn’t care. “I think that’s up to you. If you would like to, then I can only encourage and support you.” He sighed. “I wanted to go back to school after the attacks ended but since there was nothing left of our town and I… was forced to join criminal organisations by the circumstances, I never really did. Maybe I should work on that as well.”

Tecchou hummed. “We can take that step together then, if you like.”

A nod. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He touched his tactile watch but then dropped his hands again. There was still plenty of time until he had to leave for work now that his schedule was different. “Building a normal life used to be so unimaginable. And now that I have it, I never really know what to do with it.”

“Me too. But I think we’re doing a good job together.”

“Mostly, yeah. I’m nervous about what the future holds.” Jouno’s voice was laced with worry, so Tecchou lifted his head and rolled over to lay next to him.

“We’ll figure that out as well,” he reassured him and Jouno nodded. “I hope so.”

Tecchou reached out and let the tips of his fingers wander over Jouno’s jaw, then up to his forehead. It seemed like Jouno followed the touch with his mind and noticed the deep crease of worry there, which he then eased out with a sigh.

“I love our life the way it is now,” Jouno said. “And I want to buy that house with you. Get an actual cat, go back to school, get a nicer job, spend my free time with you.” A deep sigh. It added additional weight to his words even though it was a content one, rather than sad. “I love you, Tecchou.”

Jouno said it less than Tecchou did, but that could never bother him. The words didn’t lose their meaning no matter how much or little they said it, because they were spoken so genuinely every single time.

Tecchou smiled and cupped his cheeks. He held Jouno like something precious that could be easily broken, even though he knew that it wouldn’t happen. Because even after everything, Jouno was still whole. Sure, he had cracked in a few places, but they’d mended them. It had been hard work—nevertheless, it was worth it. Every single last bit. And now, Tecchou wouldn’t let him crack ever again. He wouldn’t lose him, wouldn’t let him slip through his fingers like a breeze.

He wanted to hold onto this—all of it, all of Jouno.

“I love you too.”

Tecchou leaned down and placed a kiss on Jouno’s lips. The feeling of excitement never vanished and neither did the memories of the first kiss they’d shared or the desperate confessions that had followed. Even after months, Tecchou wanted to kiss Jouno with the same love and care, maybe even a deeper version of those two.

Jouno’s arms slipped around him, holding him tightly and securely as he returned the kiss. A slow one. Tecchou knew that not all of the kisses they shared had to be conversations or unspoken words. Sometimes they could be casual and quick, sometimes heated and rushed while only chasing the physical connection behind it—not saying anything at all. But to him, this one felt like a conversation. A reassurance that they would always find each other again, that they would come back safely, and that they would return to this life.

It was full of silent confessions, albeit a lot less desperate and angry than they had been in the beginning. They were spoken softly and with the knowledge that they weren’t one-sided.

They had slow sex. Tecchou lost count of how many times he spoke confessions or reassurance during it, no matter if it was verbally in quick whispers or otherwise. Jouno took all of those words and gave them right back to him. If he didn’t say them out loud, then Tecchou still felt them as a kiss to his lips or as a touch on his skin.

This, too, wasn’t always a conversation. It didn’t have to be and Tecchou never cared what it was or wasn’t. Because he always felt the same connection to Jouno, the same security and care. It was the same lips and hands on his skin, the same body against his.

Over time, Tecchou had learned how to close his eyes and let himself feel. He allowed himself to be kissed and kissed back, he was touched and gave those back to Jouno.

With all of this, he let Jouno know that he never wanted to lose him again and that they would come back and continue their life together. It was a promise of all of these things and even more.

He felt Jouno’s worry as well as his own in the way they held one another. Not parting, even after their wordless exchange ended. Tecchou lazily let his hand wander through Jouno’s hair while he felt his partner’s knuckles ghost up and down his spine. Their legs were tangled under the blanket while their free hands were pressed against each other by their palms. Flat and with their fingers spread instead of intertwined.

“My hands are bigger,” Tecchou mumbled into Jouno’s neck where his head rested on his shoulder.

“Mhm… But only by a little bit.”

Jouno took Tecchou’s hand and placed a kiss on his palm. “I can feel how much you’ve been training. You’re also regaining a lot of strength.”

A light nod. “I won’t go back to where I was before all of this, not without the surgeries, but it’s getting better.” His long battles against the repercussions of removing the enhancements, the infections, and sickness had considerably weakened him alongside everything else. Getting back into a routine of working out and sparring had been easy mentally (as it was so ingrained in his mind) but a struggle in physical aspects.

Jouno had also become stronger. But while Tecchou worked on his sword skills to get the most out of them without his enhanced strength, Jouno focused on his agility and speed. Occasionally, they’d gone into the forest, far away from any hiking trails, and trained together for hours on end until neither of them could breathe anymore.

For Tecchou, nothing was enough. He felt weak and was afraid that he always would without the surgeries. But he continued to work on himself in hopes it would be enough to keep them both alive and allow them to come back home. With Jouno—together—he felt stronger, no matter how cheesy that sounded and how much it had cracked Jouno up when he’d actually said that out loud. It was a fact that they were a good team, though, Tecchou insisted on that and Jouno had reluctantly agreed, but not without mocking him a little.

He freed his hand from Jouno’s light grip to hold him even closer as though he could slip away any second, taken from him.

“You’re clingy after sex,” Jouno commented and Tecchou could hear both the affection and the raised eyebrow.

“I know.”

The light and almost sleepy touches on his back stopped and Jouno moved his arms into an embrace as well.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tecchou.” A kiss landed on Tecchou’s temple.

“You’re lying.”
“What?”
“You’re going to work!”

Jouno groaned. “I kinda have to, don’t I?”

Tecchou made a displeased noise, causing Jouno to chuckle. “I’ll go to work and you go to the dojo. And then we both come back tonight. Nobody’s leaving.”

Sighing, Tecchou nodded. “I know.”

Jouno checked his watch again. As he was opening his mouth to announce his departure, Tecchou already interrupted him. “Just five more minutes.”

“Alright, but I really need to leave after.”

His protests were ignored as Tecchou closed his eyes again. Five more minutes. He tightened his embrace and got Jouno to do the same.

“I love you, Saigiku.”

“I love you too.”

Five more minutes. Tecchou never wanted them to end. He knew they had to, but the two of them would eventually come back.

They always would.