Chapter Text
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It was weird, how silent it all got, suddenly. Inori had barely registered it, with the pain still coursing through his body, reminding him every second of the stupid decisions he had taken that had let him to this very moment.
This silence was truly getting long. Did he pass out?
Inori raised his head, and was quick to understand why even the leaves of the trees had stopped.
Kenshirou's eye was wider than he had ever seen it. Kiji didn't seem to care much about his makeup, salty water ruining his mascara and carefully applied eyeliner, probably the only one who had registered what had happened. Even the usually stoic Hajime looked bothered by what he was seeying, and the weird lady that was fighting him had froze. The three inmates of Cell 8 were just getting out of the underground, followed by Kokoriki and Youriki carrying an unconscious Rokuriki. All five of them had stopped in their tracks in the middle of the stairs, horror written on all their features as their eyes stopped in one place. All of them were.
Inori sure was envious of Rokuriki for not having to witness this scene.
Because, infront of all of them, Enki's hand had just pierced the torso of the Supervisor of Building 5.
And nothing would make him come back from this injury.
The dirt was turning red under them, spilling like snow on a moutain in winter, staining the ground to never wash out again, to never let them forget this day.
Enki's eyes were wide. So were Samon's. Neither of them had expected this, neither of them had seen it coming.
Yet, Enki had just killed his sole younger brother.
The shorter of the two Gokuu brothers started coughing, his body seeming determined to leave an unremovable trace in this very place. His hands were clutching the part of his torso that was broken, trying to process what was happening, why he was seeying his ribs, his lungs, his guts. A pink and red and boney-white mess infront of his eyes, his vision slowly getting more blurry as the seconds escaped his grasp. As his breaths escaped his chest—to never return again.
He tried speaking, tried asking what was going on to his brother, the one he looked up to more than anything in this world, the one he'll always go to for comfort. This time maybe for the last.
But when Samon looked up at Enki, the look he saw wasn't the one he was expecting or used to—instead of the usual bored or annoyed expression, he found pure surprise. No, horror,—fear?
Probably not. His brother couldn't possibly be scared. He was never scared of anything. What could he even be scared of? It was only the two of them in this fight.
Where his voice gave up, Enki's carried low.
"..Samon?"
He wanted to reply. He couldn't, instead choking on his own throat, his own body turning on him. Why was it suddenly so dark? It was nowhere near evening, not even noon yet. Everything was so, so blurry. Man, he sure was hungry. What did he prepare for lunch today? He couldn't quite remember. Oh well, it'd be a surprise. He liked surprises. Enki never did throw him that surprise birthday party he wanted as a kid. But hey, they had plenty of time. Surely one day.
A full minute when by before anyone raised a finger. Before anyone yelled. Upa was the first one to do so, Noriko following close behind, hands coming up to her mouth to cover that screech deserving of the best horror movie awards.
Kiji was the first to move, rushing to the brothers' side. Rushing to get Samon away from him, from this person he used to know. Because his friend had gone limb. Because his eyes had closed, because his grip had loosened.
Because his breath had stopped, because his heart was following.
Because even if he had gotten paler over the last few years, spending too much time inside, he had never came this close to matching Kiji's own skin.
Because his friend was dying, and nobody could stop that.
After Kiji set in motion, the rest were quick to follow. Kenshirou and Hajime rushing, Noriko passing them despite stumbling at the start, Inori trying and failing to get up, only hurting himself more. Upa, Liang and Qi stayed fixed in place, till the oldest of the three remembered he was probably the only one with a minimal of medicine knowledge here.
Maybe he could finally help Samon the same way he had helped him. Maybe he could return the favour, after so many months.
Or maybe he was watching the one man that had gave him a hand when he was at his lowest die. Maybe this was the end of that story.
Enki had stepped back from Samon, almost letting him fall to the ground if it wasn't for Noriko catching him. He didn't speak, didn't move further than that. Just stared, eyes unblinking, shock locking him in place.
How did that happen?
He didn't get it.
Samon was better than this. He could dodge without a problem. So what had happened? Why did his hand pierce through him like butter, crushing ribs and organs alike, hand coming out on the other side with bits of bones and blood?
Why hadn't Samon dodged?
Why hadn't Samon answered him already?
Why had his annoying brother turned so, so quiet?
Noriko's eyes filled with tears, wide open in pure dread and panic. She didn't know what to do, where to put her hands to stop this horrible and vile wound from bleeding. From taking her younger brother farther and farther away from her. From them.
One, two, three, four.
The last one was dim, barely hearable from his chest.
Noriko couldn't hear Samon's heartbeat any longer, static now drowning her senses, an eerie calm letting place to the terror in her own torso.
The cold hands of life had already reclaimed their rights, Samon's eyes shining in emptiness at whatever had welcomed him after such a goory event.
The rest of the next hours were a complete blur for most of them, rain washing off memories and dirt alike. There had been terror, then dread—before pain and denial took their place in this atrocious, barbaric scenario.
Some guards had to stay back for the inmates, including Enki, being put back behind bars without even a chance to wash off the blood that was so close to his own.
The rest had been allowed to go patch up and rest.
Samon had been taken to another room than theirs, yet so close. Just the next corridor over.
The morgue.
Only a few hours after death, his body had already changed, to never return to what it once was—eyes deep in their sockets, skin so pale he could mimic the whitest sheet of paper. Darkcircles turning purple, followed closely by his fingers and nose. The gash in his torso had yet to be closed or hidden away, the trauma of the blow permanently disfiguring his body. Life had stopped there for him, leaving him behind for good like Enki had tried doing so many times. Taking back what it had given just some short twenty-seven years ago.
Nobody quite processed what did happen, that day. Why hadn't he dodged? Why did he stay in place, unmoving, unspeaking?
The rain failed to undo the crime that had taken place here, failing to efface the red traces that would stay for years to come.
Both in the ground and their minds, now forever rooted and drilled into their skulls and eyelids.
This day couldn't possibly get worse, could it?
Inori had been unresponsive for the past hour. Awake, acknowledging them, but staying silent. Enki wasn't the only one to blame, was he?
If Inori hadn't done that, hadn't caused this accident, this escape, Samon would still be here. His supervisor would still be breathing, probably berating him for getting injured like this, for not trusting him more. Why Samon, why not him?
But now, he was dead, pale and bloody like one of those horror stories they'd tell during drunken nights, trying to scare each other, laughing their hearts out after a bad joke.
The silence now was perforating his eardrums, rendering him deaf. He missed the noise.
Nights like that wouldn't happen again, would they?
One thing was sure, nobody would sleep tonight. And it wasn't because of one of Samon's shitty attempts at frightening them.
Or maybe he had finally succeed, for once and for all nights to come.
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Notes:
Go check out my super awesome animation about this AU on Tumblr, Youtube, or Tiktok! (User is @3nk1 on Tumblr, and @3nkk1 on YT and TT) :b
First chapter is officially doneeee but the rest is to come🔥💥 I'll try updating once or twice a month? Not sure yet, with exams coming up
Chapter 2: Inori Hakkai, or what's left of him.
Summary:
He could remember it pretty well.
That warm not-quite-summer-yet night.
Everything had went so well all evening, with guards cheering and drinking to their heart's content, celebrating whatever was up that day.
Samon had seemed to only half share their joy. Inori always wondered what he had meant, that day.
Notes:
This is a mini Samon birthday special chapter in advance! Enjoyyy ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
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Inori sighed as he stepped outside on the balcony, the fresh air hitting him like a wall, the stars serving as dim lights on his path. It sure was crowded inside.
He hadn't expected any less. Afterall, a pretty old veteran guard was retiring tonight.
The Daisen twins had drank beyond belief, both stumbling around like puppets without strings, followed closely by an exasperated Youriki. Mitsuba and Yozakura were chatting in the corner, humming and moving along to the rhythm. Hitokoe was having a blast behind the DJ board.
Overall, everyone seemed to be having a great time.
Well, if it wasn't for mister frowny face of the day. This was rare. Samon usually always smiled at work parties, the only exception being when Hajime was around. But the Supervisor of Building 13 wasn't even here tonight, too busy working himself to the grave.
So, what was up with Samon?
He was still inside, leaning against the wall, a glass he had barely touched in hand. Samon was smiling, sure, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Didn't quite reach his heart.
Inori observed all of this from the balcony, having been suffocating inside the party room for a few hours now. Fresh air felt weird in his lungs, too cold but way too refreshing to complain. Maybe Samon needed that, too.
He could guess why his Supervisor was feeling so down, actually.
Afterall, they were only a day away from his birthday. The 9th of May.
And Samon's brother wasn't really here to celebrate, for once.
It was less than half a year ago that the whole accident happened. Enki killing a guard, his hand piercing through that poor guard like butter, crushing ribs and organs alike, hand coming out on the other side with bits of bones and blood. Inori hadn't been here to witness it, but Samon had. It truly must have been a horrific sight.
The rumors that stupid cat from Building 2 had started weren't helping either! Seriously, who lied about something like that?!
For now, all the Deputy Supervisor could do was sigh and go cheer up his boss. When Samon was down, the whole building felt off. As if something was missing. The day was immediately boring, and everyone was grumpy. It was the recipe for a terrible day.
Just as Inori was getting ready to walk back inside, Samon himself put down his glass and went outside. Seems like he, too, wanted a breath of fresh air.
Seems like this was his chance.
"Sup'? You're looking gloomier than Mitsuru when there's a power outage."
Samon rolled his eyes.
"Haha. Very funny, Inori. I'm just tired, is all."
"Is the world ending? You're never tired."
"Well I am now."
Ouch. That last reply sounded a bit too cold, a bit too harsh, voice biting Inori's skin more than the cold night air. Seems like Samon noticed it too, his expression going from mildly annoyed to neutral, a relatively small show of potential regret.
Inori sighed, before tempting fate again. Let's just hope Samon didn't punch him or something. He didn't exactly want to take a swim down there tonight.
"What's going on with you, man? You've been acting off the whole evening."
"I told you, I'm just tired."
A short silence.
"The whole thing with 'niki left me with a ton of paperworks."
Bingo. Inori did guess right. That whole mean girl mood escaping Samon was coming straight from that.
"I can help."
"You? Help?? You barely complete your usual paperworks, you expect me to believe you'll help complete mine, too?"
Hey, that's a win, Samon was back to a half smile, mocking him.
"Hey! Have some faith in me! I'm your right arm man now, you know that?!"
"Pff, oh please. The only thing you're right for is making bets on horse races and losing them."
"I'm not that bad.."
The conversation ended in grumbles from Inori and a light chuckle from Samon, before he calmed down with a deep breath followed by yet another sigh.
"..Ok, you got me. The paperworks' not the only thing bringing me down, lately. I've just been feeling, kinda guilty, I guess?"
"Guilty? For what?"
God, what was he spewing out now?
"It's just—I know it's useless to feel guilty about this whole thing. It won't change what's done, what's being done. What will be done. Guilt ain't gonna purify jackshit. It's stupid to think it will. But it doesn't change the fact it's still here, deep down. Y'know what I mean? The dog that weeps after it kills isn't better than the dog that doesn't, or whatever the quote is."
No, absolutely not. Inori had no clue what Samon was yapping about.
"..Yeah, kinda."
Samon only lowly hummed in reply, green eyes lost in the deep blue sea infront of them, reflecting the moon and stars. For once, the water was calm.
Inori wished he was as calm as the sight infront of him.
Samon silently prayed he, too, would be one day.
"Anyways! I think I'm gonna head home for the night. Enjoy the rest of the party, 'riri."
That stupid nickname that Samon knew he hated, joined with that dumb grin of his, showing teeth too sharp to be normal for any man that wasn't Samon. Well, atleast, Inori had managed cheering him up.
"..Yeah, sure, monkey. Goodnight."
"I'm not a monkey, you stupid moutain pig!"
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Notes:
I made a Nanbaka discord server! Feel free to joinnnn :DD
https://discord.gg/dhhR9VmgUw
Chapter 3: Mitsuba Kiji, and his burning collection.
Notes:
ive been too busy to polish those chapters arghhfjf
Expect chapter 4 before the end of this week, and potentially chapter 5 next week
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
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It was cold, here.
Colder than Kiji was used to, even in his appartement with shitty heating where he had to wear the ugliest sweaters in his wardrobe just to not freeze.
But somehow, this early spring was colder than the dead of winter.
Because there was only one person by his side, instead of two. Because there was only a dog and a peacock, and they were missing their monkey.
How long had they been here, by now? Minutes, hours? The broken clock infront of them was far from a good indicator, and Kiji's own limbs were too cold, too rigid to reach for his pocket to take out his phone.
He wondered how Samon's hands felt, inside that room. God, he was probably a lot colder than they were. He should probably bring him a sweater.
There's no way he was as warm as usual—wearing shorts in winter, mocking them all for staying right next to the heater. No, he was probably freezing today, even if the spring had already started. Kiji would know, his allergies had been acting up like madmen, ruining his makeup nearly everyday. Although, Samon had done a way better job at that today.
He should stop thinking about it.
But how was he supposed to forget that? Move on? When he's in the next corridor next to the room Samon's body had been taken to, how was he expected to just continue on with his day, his duties?
They were utter fools for hoping that was even remotely possible.
So Kiji did the next best thing: worry about the living. Starting by the friend that was right by his side still, like a lost dog wanting to go back home already.
"You holding up?"
Simple. Complex phrases felt like an absolute mouthful, at the moment.
"No. You?"
"No."
Great. Real productive here, you two. So much for being supervisors, rising through ranks only to crash out worst than Icarus when they had yet to even reach the sun.
Or maybe they had reached it. Maybe the closest they'd ever be to the sun was when they were holding his hands in the breakroom, grumbling about temperatures and natural advantages, grumbling about unfairness.
"How did it happen?"
"I don't know."
"He was faster than that."
"Yeah, he is."
"Then how—no. Why."
"I don't know."
A small silence stretched for too long, before Kenshirou interrupted their grief again by a cold, brutal truth.
"He let it happen."
"That makes no sense."
Yet that was what Kiji himself had implied, asking why instead of how.
"Since when does Samon make any sense to you? He sure never does to me. Teach me your secrets."
A snicker. Probably too bitter, too close to their current predicament.
And they stayed silent again. Because what else could they say? Compliment how squeaky clean the floor was, when they knew nothing would wash off the blood from that dirt, from their minds, their hands?
His gloves were bloody, he finally realised.
Right. Kiji had grabbed right onto Samon when the latter fell to the ground. Those probably got stained then.
He stared at them for too long—before Kenshirou grabbed his attention again, a rare concern shining through what he tried to pretend was neutrality. For both their sakes, maybe more his own than Kiji's. Opening up right now was a guarantee to never recover.
"Snap out of it. Just focus on what we have to do now."
"We'll probably have to go help out with Building 5."
"Yeah. The area got heavily damaged."
"I'm taking the afternoon shift."
"..F'course you are."
Talking about such formalities, when his bestfriend's body was only getting paler in the other room, felt incredibly off.
Maybe now he'd finally have Samon's shade in his collection.
He could do Samon's makeup again. He'd probably torture the poor guard with even more glitter, this time around. Kiji had seen a stunning Gaisha inspired look on one of his magazines, just this morning. So his favourite model was going to suffer again.
"My place, tonight, the three of us again? It's been a while since we shared an evening, catching up on life and stuff."
"..Yeah, that sounds nice. Is it alright if I bring Inohana with me?"
Kiji raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
This little moment of normality was nice.
"The border collie? Tbe one who made a mess out of Samon's couch last time?"
"He's not usually like that.. I don't know what got over him."
"Train your doggies better, Inu."
The Supervisor of Building 3 elbowed his coworker, mocking supposedly poor teaching skills. The latter rolled his eye in response, not bothering to humor him further.
Tic.
Tac.
Tic.
Tac.
Seems like the clock started working again. Oh well.
Maybe it was time to go home for the day.
Even if it'd never be the same again.
Kiji couldn't remember the last time he willingly did that much overtime. He usually clocked out right on time. But maybe there was a first to everything. Or maybe Samon rubbed off on him more than he thought—he should stop hanging out with that damned monkey so much.*
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Notes:
Ever heard of frost bite?
Sometimes, warmth isn't the only thing that burns you.
CannonBall_37 on Chapter 1 Thu 01 May 2025 09:53PM UTC
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