Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And that’ll be 200,000 yen.” The loaner held out his hand, awaiting Tsukasa’s response. “That includes your debt from last time, too.”

Tsukasa blinked, scraping the money from the tickets they sold out of his worn pockets. The seats were emptier than last time; he knew it the minute he walked on stage. He knew things were not going to go over well, between Nene’s trapeze accident last week and the second global market crash of the year. His pockets were just as hungry as his empty stomach and he held back a sigh, forcing a smile over his grimace.

“This is all I have. I’m sorry.” He bowed his head, face to face with sandy terrain.

The man sighed, flipping through the bills in his hand. He gruffly laughed, narrowing his eyes at Tsukasa.
“You haven’t been eating, have ya? This ain’t even enough to feed a baby.” He took a drag from his cigarette. 

Tsukasa slowly nodded. Apprehension sunk into the air, dust suffocating the walls of the circus tent. He knew this wasn’t an invitation for food. It couldn’t be.

“I’ll make you a deal, ‘kay? If your little troupe runs off and never rents from me again, I won’t chase after you kids for your debt. How’s that sound?” 

Tsukasa hissed through his teeth, as if the man had snuffed out his cigarette on the boy’s arm. It was really over then, wasn’t it? Those dreams he had of stardom, of impressing Saki, of standing side by side with the rest of his troupe even in the midst of hell.

The boy had to acknowledge the truth; dreaming was a lie . It was something promised by adults who cheated and stole and kicked down whoever they needed to. It was something he always aspired to, because without dreams— without hope— where did he stand? 

“...I understand.” He mumbled, blinking back a few tears. Fuck, who cared about dreams? They were all going to starve to death at this rate!

The taller man ruffled Tsukasa’s greasy, choppy hair, much to the latter’s chagrin.

“You have the rest of today to get outta here.” The man aloofly yawned.

“Yes, sir.” He curtly snarled in response.

The man moseyed off, leaving Tsukasa in complete disarray. He stared at the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing. How in the world was he supposed to break the news to the rest of his troupe? How was he supposed to tell them that he was wrong about their chances of making it? 

The jester shook his head, forcing his feet to inch forwards. He’d gain nothing by standing here like this. He had to be responsible, right? They could figure things out. They’d live. 

Despite his attempts to reassure himself, Tsukasa didn’t really believe in that sort of blind optimism.

He needed to live. That’s all it was. There wasn’t anything wrong with needing to live, was there? He ravenously took his future in his hands and carved his path forward through a bloodied ribcage. He took the rest of his troupe with him, feasting because there was no time to think; no time to question the morality of what they had done.

And now, Tsukasa— satiated for the first time in weeks— gaped at the carnage in horror, failing to make sense of it all.

The four of them had killed someone and ate them.

A spell of dizziness overcame him, and then the nausea came down tenfold.

What had he said again? That Emu was going to die if they didn’t do this?

He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the slick crimson staining his fingers. His blood ran cold, and it took all of his might to not puke all over their spoils.

It was necessary, he lied. He was just doing what he needed to for them to live. The boy was simply dreaming of a future where they were alive and well. They had no other choice in achieving that dream. They had no other chance of being saved, and Tsukasa had saved them by taking action. He… saved them. He then found himself quietly repeating this in his head.

He hugged himself, still keeping his eyes shut. In spite of his heroism, he didn’t want this to happen again. If he could find an alternative, he would.

Unknown to him, this was just the first meal of many.

Their new home wasn’t bad— a medium-sized shed in what seemed to be a dilapidated rural community, barring the up-and-running factory across the street. When they checked the nearby buildings; roofs caved in and rubble littering floors— they knew nobody else lived here, except for the factory full of life. Tsukasa had spotted a few people enter and exit the factory, usually being the same four people, who also seemingly inhabited an estate located on the right. They had paid him and his troupe no mind, or so Tsukasa thought— that was, until he saw the one girl with long black hair approach him. He knew then he had walked too close to the factory. Looking at her closer, he noticed a few things: one, she was well-fed, two, she held a bat full of nails over her shoulder, and three—

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

She looked incredibly hostile.

“My… name is Tsukasa Tenma.” He suddenly rushed out, goosebumps lining his arms. “I’m your… neighbor.”

“Neighbor?" She repeated incredulously. 

He slowly nodded, gesturing to the shed behind him. She grimaced, as if she took offense at the mere suggestion.

“The rest of my troupe is also there… I can introduce you to them if you’d like?” He gently suggested, hoping to defuse her bad temper.

“I’ll kill you!” She sharply announced, gripping her bat in both hands.

“Wh— what?!” He yelped, taking a few steps backwards and nearly tripping over his own feet.

“If you take another step forward, I have to kill you!” She loudly reiterated, brandishing it over her head. 

“U— uhm…” He froze, realizing that despite her threats she was kind of… pathetic, maybe? Really, she looked completely harmless outside of the weapon.

“Is she causing trouble for you? My apologies.” 

Tsukasa jolted at the low hum of the voice behind him, whipping his head around to see that tall boy with the split-colored hair. He held his breath at the sight of his face, which was eerily familiar— although, he couldn't quite place why that was.

“An, there's no need to be so hostile.” He continued despite Tsukasa's lack of response. So that was her name; An.

“B— but…” An protested, hanging her head in defeat before dropping the bat and twiddling her thumbs. What a weirdo.

He then turned back to Tsukasa, extending his hand out for a shake.

“My name is Touya Aoyagi. I'm the… proprietor of the factory behind us, as well as An's employer. Your name was… Tenma, correct?”

Tsukasa took his hand— well-rounded with soft skin in contrast to his boney and shriveled one— and firmly shook it. A proper greeting. 

“Yes.” He nodded.

“It's always nice to have new people in town,” Aoyagi said with a facetious lilt, “say, neighbor, are you in need of a job? We could use a hand or two.”

Tsukasa felt Aoyagi's eyes practically rip into his disheveled, impoverished appearance; as if the two of them lived in completely separate worlds. And maybe there was some truth to that; Tsukasa had never seen people as well-dressed and clean as the four from this factory— the truly wealthy were only rumored to exist out here. 

In spite of that gap was Aoyagi's kindness and polite manners. But Tsukasa still couldn't shake the feeling of something being wrong. Every movement of Aoyagi’s thus far felt calculated, carefully positioned, and insincere— like he was merely pretending to be human. He bit his lip, thinking that being alone with the bat girl had been a less precarious situation. But Tsukasa didn't mind taking risks, either.

“How much is the pay?” He dryly asked, not meeting the taller boy’s eyes.

“20,000 yen a month.” Aoyagi flatly replied, catching his reluctance.

That was good. Really good, actually. They'd probably be able to stop killing people, with that kind of pay. He tried to count how many bowls of rice he could purchase with 20,000 yen, before giving up at the five-seconds-of-thinking mark. 

“You mentioned there are other people with you, yes? If either you or them are interested, we can make arrangements for an interview of sorts.”

“An interview…”

Tsukasa never had a job that required an interview before. Most of the odd jobs he had done before forming Wonderlands x Showtime required no kinds of background checks or experience… was there some kind of prestige to working in a factory?

“Here's my business card.” He added, placing the card into Tsukasa's palm and folding his fingers over it. “We need to check on Akito, An.”

“Okay!” 

And with that, the two of them walked off, pebbles and dirt crunching under the soles of leather boots. He found himself at a loss, not really understanding what to make of the interaction. Aoyagi hadn’t even given him a proper goodbye, despite his prior formalities.

Tsukasa unfurled his hand, studying the small rectangle of cardstock he had given him.  Maybe he could get Rui to read this… although he wasn't sure how much circus scripts intersected with business-speak, if at all.

He walked across the pavement back home, a few thoughts bumping around in his head. Was it safe to pursue this opportunity? Even if it wasn't, did the pay outweigh the risks?

His gaze turned upwards to the blazing Sun, he found himself unusually wistful. Maybe with this, he could dream again. Maybe the four of them could get back on their feet and pretend like none of this happened. To forget about it all, and focus on the smiles in front of them.

He closed his eyes, taking in the Sun's warmth and imagining it. New costumes, new equipment, a tent with proper flooring— all owned in his name, no rent required. The audience cheering and laughing, voices echoing far beyond the tent. A starworthy jester, a hilarious clown, a graceful trapeze diva, and the genius ringleader… those were just some of the titles the world would give them. And then, and then, Saki would find him and say she's proud with a big smile, and then tell him that he's “the best big brother in the whole world” like she always did before.

Reality hit him like a brick once he opened his eyes to the rickety shed door. He turned the loose, rusty knob, spotting Rui and Emu sitting on the couch. They were patching some of the torn upholstery with an old sewing kit and curtains they salvaged from a collapsed house.

“Where's Nene?” He asked, softly closing the door behind him. Rui continued poking the needle through leather and linen; as if he hadn't even noticed Tsukasa’s presence.

“Nene-chan left to… get food.” Emu sadly smiled, followed by a perturbed pause as she lingered on the term “food.” “But, but! Rui-kun and I have been trying to make the couch super wonderhoy!”

“I see. It looks nice.”

It looked incredibly tacky in reality, but he wasn't going to say that. He plopped down next to Rui, observing his handiwork. It seemed Rui was improving at sewing after Tsukasa taught him a few days prior.

“Hey, Rui.” he started— no response. “Oi, Rui.” He repeated, poking his shoulder a few times.

“Oh, hi Tsukasa-kun. I… didn't realize you were here.” He awkwardly admitted; it was just as Tsukasa expected. Rui always got so absorbed into things like these.

“Your stitching is getting good. The lines aren't crooked and the gaps between each stitch aren't too far apart.” He complimented, hovering over Rui's shoulder to get a closer look.

“Thank you.” Rui smiled, setting the needle down on the couch’s arm.

“I have something I kinda need you to read, but it does also concern food a bit… I'm thinking we should wait for Nene to come back before we talk about it.” Tsukasa mused aloud, holding his hands in his lap. Rui leaned forward.

“Do you mind if I read it now? You've piqued my curiosity.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Tsukasa handed Rui the business card, who held it up to his face and carefully studied each character.

“I unfortunately can't read most of this.”

Figures.

“However, from what I can tell it's for a factory where they produce… I think canned pork? But I could be wrong.”

“Ooh, is this about the factory next door?” Emu inquired, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Yes… which would explain why they look so wealthy.” Tsukasa confirmed, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling.

“It's strange to think that only a few decades ago, people like us would be able to eat animal meat at all, let alone vegetables…” Rui wondered out loud.

“Really?” Tsukasa turned his head back down to face him. It was a shock, to say the least. The only things Tsukasa had ever remembered eating was rice, bread if he was lucky, and now—

“Well, that's what Mom told me, at least. I am curious as to what those things taste like, though.”

Tsukasa nodded, not knowing what to add onto that. Emu clearly didn't either, because now they sat in silence as Rui continued to sew; but that was usually the case when Rui mentioned his mother.

Tsukasa couldn't really understand it. The experiences Rui lived before meeting him were entirely different from his— and really, the rest of the troupe's. Rui had parents that hadn't died too early to be remembered, that spoke fondly of the past world and inspired hope for the future. Parents that could actually be mourned and grieved— and it made Tsukasa jealous, because he found that grieving a loss was more comfortable than grieving something that was never there.

For him, all he truly remembered having was Saki. And he simply did what he had to in order to keep her safe. Tsukasa hoped she remembered him, thanked him, and sometimes found himself panicking that she must've forgotten; she was quite young back then, after all. He knew it kept him up at night because he didn't want to die with no mark of his existence— that was only natural.

It wasn't long before Nene exasperatedly slammed open the door, heaving her catch into the shed— wet with bloodied sweat and knees shaking. Tsukasa shot up from the couch, swiftly taking the carcass off her hands.

“Are your knees alright?” He asked, visions of her trapeze accident from months ago racing through his mind. While she insisted a week ago that she was all healed, he couldn't help but be flighty about it like a mother hen.

“Mm,” Nene nodded, “they ran really far away… so it was hard…” she wheezed out, suddenly losing her balance.

“Nene-chan…!” Emu called out, catching Nene in her arms before she fell onto the ground. “Are you sure you're okay?”

She looked away from Emu and Tsukasa, downcast.

“I'm sorry for not being more careful, everyone…” She mumbled. “I just—”

“We should elevate her knees. Nene, could you lay down on the couch?” Rui interrupted, having finished the repairs to the upholstery. She weakly nodded, using Emu and Rui for support as she stumbled over to the couch, laying down as instructed; her knees over the arm and further propped up by a pillow.

Tsukasa sighed, turning his attention to the corpse in his arms. Scrawny, barely enough to feed all four of them— seemed like he'd be cutting down on his portion today. But Nene had worked so hard to feed them this time; so he'd make it work.

As pouring rain began to strike the tin roof, a genius idea came to Tsukasa; soup. He tossed the body to the side and walked out the shed, inspecting the pot he left out. It was completely full, just like he hoped— after all, it had been quite rainy for the past few days.

Emu perked up the minute she saw a drenched Tsukasa walk back in with the pot— and he noticed faint smiles gracing Nene and Rui’s faces, too. He was glad he could give them at least one thing to look forward to.

“Emu, do you want to help me make the soup?” He invited, noticing Rui seemed preoccupied with fashioning a compress for Nene's knee.

“Mhm! Let's make the best sparkly shiny soup, Tsukasa-kun!” 

“Ha ha ha! I wouldn't expect any less!” He laughed, matching her enthusiasm— although both of them knew the truth.

Neither of them were really happy. Particularly Emu— after spending enough time with her, he began to notice whenever she'd force a smile to try and cheer the rest of them up. And so, he figured that matching her enthusiasm (even if it may have been false) would make her feel better— less alone— even if he didn't truly understand her inclination to hide her upset. Acting tough for his troupe was one thing, but the concept of biting down his frustration and replacing that with a smile eluded him. It was that sort of elusion that made him respect Emu so much, in a way; she was much stronger than the rest of them. She was always ready to face this horrible world with a bright smile.

He placed the pot of water onto the hot plate, turning on the small propane tank attached. The two of them tore up the flesh with their hands, dropping the unevenly shredded pieces into the pot. Rui had been looking for something called a knife recently— he said it would make that process a lot easier, as well as lower the cooking time... it made Tsukasa wonder what other sorts of tools could be used for cooking. Maybe one day he could improve beyond just soup.

He stuck his hands in his pockets while crouched on the floor, recognizing the rough feel of the cardstock. That's right, he almost forgot about that guy's offer… the simple joy of soup had distracted him. Maybe the three of them would find it as good news. In truth, though, Tsukasa had already made his decision hours earlier, even if he had pretended otherwise. 

“Our neighbors have positions open… at the factory, next door. The pay is 20,000 yen a month.”

“20,000?!” Nene echoed in disbelief. The sudden raise of her voice nearly made him jump, but he understood her shock all the same. “That's enough to…”

“Feed all of us.” Rui finished. “And if all four of us worked, that would be even better.”

“Are there positions open for all four of us, Tsukasa-kun?” Emu inquired, stirring the soup with a metal rod.

“The guy that owns it— I think his name was Aoyagi? Yeah, that sounds about right— he said if any of us are interested, we could come in for interviews tomorrow.” Tsukasa continued, turning the gas down as the soup began to boil. Simmering the meat made it a bit more tender, he noticed.

“So we could all be working together, again?” She asked, her voice as small as a mouse. 

“I… guess so.” Tsukasa realized, a slight shock dawning on him. He hadn’t considered that part— all of them making a living together, just as they had before.

“Yay!” Emu cheered. “Hey, hey, we should all go then, right, Tsukasa-kun?” 

“I’m going to go tomorrow, so if any of you want to come, that’s fine.”

“I… I want to go.” Nene declared, lifting her head up to face Tsukasa. “I know that—”

“Nene, you shouldn’t be up and walking by tomorrow. Your injuries have been re-aggravated, so it would be too dangerous for you to move around too much...” Rui said, gently shutting down her idea. She sighed, letting her head rest on the couch again. “I still intend on going tomorrow, though.”

“I’ll come too!” Emu chirped. “Tsukasa-kun, is the soup done yet?”

“No… give it five more minutes, Emu.” 

“Aww… but I wanna eat now…” She pouted, poking the pot with the metal rod. Tsukasa swiftly swiped it out of her grasp.

“Don’t do that.” He scolded.

Rui chuckled at their antics, promptly sitting down on the couch next to Nene’s head. She glared up at his idiotic smile as he lounged without a care in the world. The ache in her legs was a little more tolerable seeing him like that, at least.

Tsukasa took a bowl; the only one they had— and scooped up as much as he could inside. He then took a small spoon (also the only one they owned), and walked the bowl over to Nene.

“Tonight you’ve got first serving privilege, Nene. Thanks for getting us food.” Tsukasa said, gently placing the bowl in her hands.

“Thank you two for making this.” She warmly smiled, nearly about to sit up to eat before Rui beckoned her back down.

“Really?” She sighed, glaring at Rui again. He almost seemed amused with himself, if it hadn’t been for the serious expression on his face.

“It’s okay, Nene-chan, I’ll feed you!” Emu decided, taking the bowl and holding a spoonful in front of Nene’s mouth. “Say aah!”

“You guys… seriously… I’m not a child.”

For someone who was acting so irritated, there was quite a wide smile on her face, Tsukasa noticed. 

Today had been a good day, he thought. When he laid down on the hard flooring, full from his meal, he wondered what tomorrow had in store for him. If all went well— if at least one of them were hired— they’d be saved. Saved from this hell, from this endless cycle of killing to survive. He fell asleep with hope in his heart, knowing the rest of his troupe must’ve felt the same. Their future was no longer bleak.

“Here are the terms of your contract.” Aoyagi said, sliding a piece of paper across the marbled wood desk. Tsukasa froze, not knowing how to break the news of his illiteracy. Instead, Aoyagi laughed at his pregnant pause. “Oh, I must apologize, you can’t read, yes?”

“No, I can't.” Tsukasa confirmed in a low voice.

“I guess I’ll explain it for you, then. It’s nothing too serious, really. Simply put, you may not disclose the work you or anyone else does under this company to any third party. We have to keep our family trade secrets, of course.” 

“Family trade secrets?” Tsukasa pressed, off put by his phrasing. Aoyagi's lips creased into a thin line, before sighing in what Tsukasa assumed was disappointment. 

“My father owned this factory before his passing. I’m sure you’d understand why I’d like to preserve his wishes— the two of us are around the same age… am I wrong?”

Tsukasa looked down at his feet, finding himself a bit insecure at that. Maybe he, Emu and Nene were the weird ones for not having any memory of their parents. Maybe Tsukasa was being a bit rude; trampling over Aoyagi's feelings simply because of his own projections.

“No, you’re not wrong.” He admitted. In fact, Aoyagi looked a bit younger than him— and yet, he seemed far more successful in achieving his goals than Tsukasa did. He wondered what exactly was the difference between the two of them; this difference he couldn’t truly grasp— and his mind blanked on the answer. “I understand," he lied, “my parents passed too.”

“Moving along,” Aoyagi tapped a pen against the bottom of the page, “if you agree to all this, sign your name here.”

Before Tsukasa even opened his mouth, Aoyagi continued; “and if you don’t know how to do that, my friend, simply draw a scribble. It’s all the same in the eyes of the law, no?”

He apprehensively nodded, drawing a star; the kind he always liked to sign autographs with.

Starting today, he could dream again. 

Chapter Text

Rui hadn’t expected his first day on the job to be entirely outdoors— in fact, apparently his role meant he’d be in the sweltering sun day in and day out, never in the factory itself. Aoyagi hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort in his interview, but he’d shrug it off. 20,000 yen was 20,000 yen, after all.

“Oi, you wanna be left behind or somethin’?” Shinonome gruffly spat. The noisy ginger had a dog muzzle strapped around his mouth, which Rui figured it must have been some kind of bourgeois fashion statement; why else wear one? He hastened his pace behind Shinonome and Shiraishi— having been unsettled by the former’s olive glare boring through him— sweat beginning to drip down his forehead.

While Rui had just decided to put the matter of Aoyagi’s deception aside, he was now regretting his eagerness in signing on the line. He hated being out in the sun in clothes like this, which was why he always (for lack of a better term) “hunted” at night. The sweat clung to his tattered clothes and disgusted him far more than the dirt perpetually stuck under his fingernails— and the only way to get rid of that was to jump in the lake a few kilometers out. Moreover, he believed this was inefficient; why go through all that trouble just to walk even farther and expend more energy? Not only that, but it was easier to orchestrate hunts in the dark— when the sun’s absence provided a conveniently covert blanket for an assailant. Rui had gotten sick over Tsukasa’s scoldings about safety whenever he snuck off for this purpose— but maybe if he had just listened to the latter for once, he wouldn’t feel so jittery out here in the blazing heat with two relatively intimidating strangers. He really didn’t want to admit that to Tsukasa, though.

“Where are we going? Nobody’s explained the situation to me just yet…” Rui nervously inquired, combing his oily hair through his fingers. It had grown unruly and a bit long for his liking— Rui broke the scissors in an embarrassing manner he did not wish to recall— so hopefully he’d salvage a new pair soon, even though he despised haircuts. Nene would probably tease him for having such contradictory feelings— as if he were a grumpy cat that refused baths but was perfectly happy following one— although she likely wouldn’t understand the metaphor. 

“An, we should totally kill this guy. He’s pissing me off.” Shinonome snarled, stopping dead in his tracks. Shiraishi continued pacing forwards diligently; as if she were a soldier marching into battle. Rui’s heart immediately dropped in his stomach as Shinonome bore his teeth, staring at the back of Shiraishi’s head. 

What in the world had he gotten himself into?

“No! Touya said we can’t.” She barked back, continuing her parade as if there wasn’t a single concern to be held in Shinonome's threat. He dropped his arms to his sides, disgruntled by her opposition.

Rui’s vision narrowed, anxiety overwhelming him as his throat ran even dryer than it already had been. This was not safe. Everything about this opportunity had been fishy. He knew, he knew there had been some red flags, and—

“Who the fuck cares, he’s probably given us this guy as a free kill! Touya was real damn nice to me yesterday—”

“Akito!” She snapped, stopping to face him. Shinonome fell quiet at her tone and trudged his feet forwards, cussing and muttering under his breath like a dog on a yanked leash. While the two were preoccupied with their… dynamic, Rui took the opportunity to flee, sprinting in the opposite direction. He held his breath, trying to give himself as much of a headstart as possible— he hoped they couldn’t hear his frantic footsteps, his muffled breaths, or the heart that was practically bursting out of his chest and pounding into his ears. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, dehydrated—

“Hey, get your ass back over here!” Shinonome yelled, as the pounding of their feet against the ground shook the Earth itself, as Shiraishi and Shinonome inched closer and closer— the panic of not being able to look behind him. His legs gave out under the dry terrain, and the sharp impact of a fist to  his back knocked him face down with a loud thud. The pain of what was definitely his now-broken nose fizzled out, adrenaline pushing him to lift himself up for any chance of survival— but his flimsy arms were no match against the weight of a foot on his back. He turned his head to the side, trying to breathe out of the one nostril that wasn’t bleeding, coughing and gasping for air as he caught Shinonome’s figure towering over him.

This was it, then.

He was going to die.

In all honesty, Rui wanted to feel more about his mortality— and now he was simply just irritated by the fact that he was neither upset nor happy in the slightest by the prospect of death. All that mattered in this moment was efficiency (i.e. how fast he could be killed), and Shinonome seemed to embody the opposite of that; smirking like he won some kind of game, even though Rui was still very much alive— Shinonome had won nothing, objectively. Was he savoring his suffering— drawing it out as much as possible until his final breath?

Rui’s question was answered by the raise of Shinonome’s fist. Of course.

“Akito, no!” Shiraishi shrieked, pulling back Shinonome’s arm. “We have to make sure he’s alive!”

Shinonome sighed, rolling his eyes before complying. She then rushed to Rui’s side, shooing Shinonome’s foot away and gently turning Rui over on his back. He watched as she held a handkerchief to his bloody nose, and his shoulders eased as his vision turned clear again.

“Is your nose broken?”

And that was when Rui saw her face closely for the first time. She inquisitively poked a finger at his nose, as if it would somehow fix his injury— and the light flutter of his chest outweighed the grounding sting of pain from her insensitive prodding.

“Oh come on, An, I know you wanna kill him as much as I do. Touya’ll forgive us; he always does.” Shinonome whined, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he glowered at Rui— whose eyes were beginning to dart all over the place. He found himself panicking for a reason he wasn’t quite comfortable nor particularly familiar with.

“Touya said this was important, Akito. It’s different from just killing people; we need those four to work with us so we can make more money, right? Kohane—”

“I know. You don’t needta’ explain why those two know better than us. It’s just… I dunno,” he sighed, “why should we be trusting strangers? I remember you saying somethin’ like that, too…”

Shiraishi didn’t say anything to that, turning her attention to inspecting the rest of Rui’s body for injury. 

“Jeez, Akito, did you shock him into going mute?” She puffed out her cheeks in irritation. “He hasn't even answered my question.” 

“The deal’s always been that we gotta kill outsiders,” Shinonome continued anyway, “I just don’t get why Touya’s changed his mind all of a sudden.”

“S— sorry…” Rui then croaked out, flushing red with embarrassment. His voice sounded far worse than he anticipated, and its hoarse quality wasn’t exactly helping his appearance.

“Oh, yay! He can talk.” Shiraishi chirped, satisfied with his reply. “That’s useful.”

“See, I didn’t do shit. You could’ve at least let me take a swing—”

“Akito.” She corrected, flatly. He shook his head before mumbling a “whatever” and scratching the back of his neck, kicking a few pebbles in the dirt. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Shiraishi asked Rui.

“Not really…” He lied.

Rui found himself spacing out again. Maybe it was just the after effects of the adrenaline, because in no sane headspace would he find either of them attractive. He was probably just confused from the psychological shock of a near-death experience. Yeah, that sounded about right. He took a shaky breath, his legs feeling like jelly as he leaned forwards, sitting up on the ground. His back didn’t feel too good either, but he really didn’t want his injuries to be inspected any further. Efficiency, he reminded himself. 

“Well then ya better get up.” Shinonome ordered. “Or this time I’ll really have to kill ya.”

He weakly nodded, realizing he had no other choice in the matter. Despite his previous thinking, Rui didn’t really want to die right now. Not yet. He pushed himself off the ground as images of his hypothetically-grieving troupe filled his mind. He did not want them to look like himself. He stood up on his two trembling legs, like a baby learning to walk for the first time. Pain seared up his spine with the adrenaline soothing him now dissipated, and he found that the amount of sweat clinging to him must’ve doubled. This sucked.

“Ya look like you're gonna piss yourself. Calm down.” Shinonome said, stifling a laugh. Frustration welled up in Rui’s throat— how in the world could Shinonome expect him to calm down after the former had threatened to kill him twice? “Let’s get today’s haul over with already.”

“Where are we going?” Rui repeated, a flurry of emotions lining his throat as he wiped his nose with the handkerchief. Of course it was still bleeding.

“Outskirts of the city.” Shinonome nonchalantly answered.

“Why?” He weakly pressed, hoping the question wouldn’t land him another blow to the back. The thought of further pain caused his head to dully throb. Everything, and more specifically, the two in front of him, had moved on so quickly, as if the events from a few minutes ago had been months prior. He couldn’t understand their casual, carefree approach to violence— it was sickening, even if Rui was aware of how hypocritical he was for thinking that way.

“Did Touya not tell you?” Shiraishi inquired, parting her lips in surprise.

“No. I didn’t even know I’d be working outside in any capacity until a little while ago…” He explained. And from that alone, Shinonome howled with laughter.

“Really, he didn’t tell ya? Oh, he really is the best partner ever— this is hilarious!”

“W— wait, Akito, does that mean Touya doesn’t want Kamishiro-san to know anything? We shouldn’t tell him then, right?!” She panicked, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand. Shinonome shook his head, donning an unsettingly confident smirk.

“No, no, An, it just means this is a test. If this guy fails the test, we kill him! That’s what Touya wants us to do— trust me.” 

“A… test?” Rui repeated, dumbfounded and terrified all the same. He might as well gleam what information he could if there was a chance of surviving their so-called test.

“Oh please, don’t act like you haven’t done it before. We’ve all seen the four of ya, walking ‘round here… might as well put that to use.” 

He really wished Shinonome would stop being so obtuse.

“What do you mean?”

“What, I gotta spell it out for you? How about you guess, since ya wanna ask me so much shit.”

Rui held back a sigh, allowing the cogs in his half-functioning brain to turn. They knew some kind of intel about him and the others that he was unaware of, and Aoyagi found it useful to hire them based on that. Since the amount of people recruited was more than just him, it (what Shinonome had been referring to) was something they shared. And then there was what Shinonome had said earlier about the “deal”, the location they were headed to, and what he gleaned from that business card Tsukasa showed him— and then it clicked.

“You…” He started, realizing he didn’t want to say this out loud. It was beyond sick, beyond cruel, beyond greedy—

“What?” 

“You guys… kill people and— and sell them as… food?” He stammered out, baffled by his own conclusion. He hoped that, seeing as it was an idea so far removed from the reality he knew of— that he was incorrect the minute he heard Shinonome fall back into laughter. This, unfortunately, was not the case.

“Hell yeah! Not sure why you look so grossed out, ya damn cannibal. You’d eat this shit up if you could afford it, y'know?"

He really would not. Rui considered himself a cannibal out of circumstance, not choice. If he had the option to give up killing to live, he’d take it. But now, reality had sunk in, and Rui was starting to think he would never have such a thing be an “option.”

He bit his tongue, forcing himself to swallow down some choice words. There were many things he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the right to articulate them right now. No, he signed his rights away indefinitely— all of them did— just for the promise of an okay life. A lump settled in his throat at the thought; was he more free now or prior to this arrangement?

“Akito, we’re supposed to try and get along with him, right? Cannibalism is totally gross, I agree, but do I need to remind you why you have to wear that muzzle?” She narrowed her eyes, poking his cheek playfully. 

 “I mean, it doesn’t taste good, but it’s fun. You’d get it if you tried it. Don’t ya think so too, Kamishiro-san?” He hypocritically jeered, smiling as if Rui’s predicament was the most entertaining performance in the world. 

“No. I hate murder.” He said in a low voice.

“Really? Then why’d you sign the contract?” Shiraishi asked innocently. 

He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth in aggravation. These people were horrible. Horrible didn’t even do it justice, he really hated—

“Guess he must be illiterate, just like us. What a shame.” Shinonome sarcastically said. “By the way, I know you couldn't read any of that shit in the contract, but if you wanna take a few bites An's gonna slap a damn muzzle ‘round your face.”

“So I'm supposed to go hungry?” Rui blurted out without thinking, cringing at how quickly he voiced the selfish thought. How dare he only think of himself in this situation and not of the people he'd be killing! Regardless, Shiraishi continued explaining, as if his complaint was to be expected.

“Touya said we’re gonna be feeding you, or something like that. We aren't allowed to let you guys eat people, though— which counts for lunch, too.”

What in the world were they going to feed him, then? There was no vegetation nor animals anywhere in this wasteland, and the only “food” in the outskirts of Tokyo were human beings wasting away on the little welfare the government chose to provide. Were they rich enough to import goods from the city center? If so, why did they spend their time operating the factory alone? Were he and his friends hired to replace their roles so they could live in luxury?

Those questions buzzed around in his head, but he didn't have enough information to form a concrete answer. For now, he'd have to put up with it. He'd have to follow their instructions and participate in a task that went against all of his moral principles. Shinonome stopped in his tracks.

“There's one over there.” He gestured to a figure in the distance— Rui hadn't realized how close they had gotten to the outskirts already. “How about you get the first kill? On-the-job trainin’, or whatever Touya blabbered on about…” Shinonome suggested— no, ordered— giving him a not-so-gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Oh, good eye, Akito!” Shiraishi praised, scratching under his chin like he was a dog— the sight of which made Rui feel a little sick.

Rui took a deep breath. There was nothing else he could do. His back was against the wall now. The Sun’s rays that peeked beneath the clouds were harsh, a sensation that made him feel as if his skin was melting clean off— and he heard thunder rumble as a warning for oncoming rain. Stealth wasn’t an option; it was still midday, and if he approached the figure they would certainly notice him. He huffed in annoyance, turning his mind back to efficiency.

“Oi, get a—”

He charged forwards, running straight towards the figure in the distance. He’d just let his instincts do the work and block it out. He didn’t have to think about things when his hunger took hold of him, so he deluded himself into thinking this was just the usual hunt. This was normal and he wasn’t being forced to do this. His life wasn’t being threatened, he was just going to have a meal, and this person wouldn’t become one part of a supply chain; a product to be bought by consumers.

His head felt foggy, unclear, uncertain— it was as if he saw all the blood and gore from a third person perspective; maybe from where Shinonome and Shiraishi stood. His victim fought back, unsurprisingly, but Rui already had the upper hand by attacking first, even if the two of them were equally malnourished and weak. He managed to throw the individual to the ground, and delivered a good few final blows to the head before they went limp in his grasp.

He sighed, weakly getting up from off the ground. He didn’t want to look at the face of the woman he just killed, with her long brown hair and—

“Damn. Guess we can’t kill ya.” Shinonome said, tossing an arm around Rui’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you do this before, but never so closely…”

Rui glared daggers back at Shinonome, choosing to ignore the unexpected friendliness in the latter’s smile. Rui caught Shiraishi muttering something while observing the body, before she hauled it over her shoulder— her display of strength nearly making Rui gape in shock. He struggled to even drag bodies most of the time. 

“Good job, Kamishiro-san! Touya will be really happy with us.” She beamed, giving him an energetic thumbs up.

“Now what?” Rui asked flatly. If there was anything else he had to do, he just wanted to get it over with. He didn’t want to linger on this moment any longer than he had to, numbness setting into his shoulders.

“Well, how ‘bout An and I show you a real kill, huh? It’s important to take a lesson from your senpai, right?”

Rui scowled at the mere suggestion that Shiraishi and Shinonome were his superiors, even if they technically were on a workplace level. Shinonome didn’t wait for his response, however, and Rui was forced to follow along with the two of them as they walked on.

Rui didn’t want to describe what happened next. In fact, he found himself unable to recall most of it, even though it had only been maybe ten minutes prior. Regardless, he couldn’t help his nausea, terror shaking his very core. That’s when he noticed they only had two bodies in tow, not three.

“Wh… where’s the third?” He groggily asked, trying to piece the remnants of his mind back together.

“Pfft, you think we can sell a product in that state?” Shinonome snorted. “You want me to remind you how they looked? Their ey—”

“Stop.” Rui firmly interjected, making Shinonome grimace in disappointment. He wasn’t going to hear any of that. “Why… why would you two do that?”

He just wanted to understand, even though he knew there was no real justification for any of this. If he could at least understand their motives, maybe he’d find it easier to work with them— easier to survive. Then he wouldn’t be so shaken up by… everything.

“Kohane says it's important for all of us to have fun! Akito is really interested in this sort of thing, so it’s like a date!” Shiraishi elaborated.

“A— An…” Shinonome stuttered, clearly caught off guard by her choice of words.

So they were dating. That explained a few things. But something far more important hung in the air— their reasoning for maiming someone beyond repair, beyond objective use for the factory and profit was for fun. Like it was some kind of recreational, everyday activity; a hobby, even. Much to his chagrin, flashes of Shinonome’s sadistic laughter and Shiraishi’s sheer brutality began to resurface in his head.

“I see.” He concluded— no more, no less. These people were truly despicable, they caused violence because they could, because they wanted to, and had no regard for anyone but themselves. He couldn’t wrap his head around the concept— in what world would killing become fun? In what world was brutality a sickeningly sweet bonding activity? In what world were these people given full reign and privilege to enact suffering for nothing but vices?

It was this world, he reminded himself. But the reality of that didn’t come to him as particularly surprising— maybe it would’ve been for the rest of his troupe— because he knew of the stories explaining how things were. He knew just how bad their predicament was, and he always found himself hungry for more— not just food, but stuff his friends would certainly consider “indulgent”, too. However, Rui was certainly different from Shinonome and Shiraishi; he did not steal and lie and cheat for his own enjoyment, he did it out of necessity. And like Tsukasa had said, the four of them were just surviving, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Rui found himself worrying about the state of his friends, then. He wouldn’t be surprised if any of them had died today, although the heartbreak would strike him much deeper than his lack of shock. Without thinking, he let a few tears loose, and before he knew it, he was crying. Still trailing behind Shinonome and Shiraishi, coughing and sputtering and gasping for air between choked sobs, because he just couldn’t take it. He wasn’t even bothered anymore by the fact that he was drenched in sweat and his wet clothes irritated his skin; everything else was so much worse. His nose flared up in pain as a mix of blood and snot trailed over his lips, and by God he just hated everything.

Shinonome and Shiraishi paid him no mind, neither mocking him nor comforting him. He almost wished to be mocked rather than to deal with this deafening silence— in which he knew they were deliberately ignoring him. The two were not concerned with him in the slightest now, satisfied with whatever “play” they had gotten out of his situation for today, and now he’d be discarded for the next. He too was a product for their consumption, and his irritation towards being ignored simply irritated him further— why in the world did he care?

But there was nothing he could do besides weep. Rubbing his eyes until the skin around them was raw, trudging his way back to the factory— he couldn’t do anything else, because the face of the woman he killed looked just like his mother’s.

Chapter Text

After a couple days of uneasy, largely silent dinners, Nene found herself with more questions than answers when she walked into what Touya had dubbed the kitchen; today was her first day, since her knee healed faster than Rui expected. Carcasses hung from the ceiling on hooks, marbled red popping against the dull gray walls, and if she hadn’t gotten so accustomed to the carnage of her everyday life, Nene knew she would be out cold on the floor right now. A chill rushed down her spine as she heard a mechanical whirring from somewhere below the floor, cold air spewing from a vent overhead. Even though the air felt clear, rid of any particles and dust, it was all the more suffocating than the plain outdoors.

She slowly walked over to the other girl in the room, the one Aoyagi said was supposed to train her. Her blonde pigtails fell over her eyes as she swiftly sliced different cuts off the body before her with ruler-like precision. Nene’s feet were then locked into place— the instrument with the wide blade must’ve been what Rui called a “knife.”

Not much had scared Nene anymore, at least not in terms of blood and guts— but to say she was fearless would be false. Anxiety gripped her heart, squeezing it as if threatening to burst. It had been like this for days— between Rui’s broken nose that he refused to explain, Tsukasa’s insistence on an emergency fund, and Emu’s frown she always spotted out of the corner of her eye— and she couldn’t take being in the dark any longer. There was an issue with this new job (and she knew what it was) but if the three of them were going to suffer for her sake, it only made sense for her to follow suit. She had to make up for burdening them all this time— she was chained to the couch and even when she did break free of those chains to help the other three, she always messed up. Tsukasa’s scoldings and Emu’s sympathetic smiles and Rui’s unsolicited care only served to make her feel worse; like she was incapable of anything at all. It was her turn to prove them wrong, to pay back their kindness by her own efforts. She could fix this situation, somehow. 

She swallowed before taking a shallow breath, trying to compose herself. All she needed to do was ask the girl for help. It would be her first step to becoming needed, not just wanted, but it was also the toughest, wasn’t it? This would solidify her place in the factory, after all. Nene spoke then, feeling as if every movement of her lips were toying with fate:

“Uhm… h— hello, Azusawa-san?”

Azusawa’s head whipped around to face Nene, a far-off look into her eyes that morphed into a wide smile, a genuine display of emotion that simultaneously felt plastered on the girl’s face like a thick layering of paint. That’s when she noticed the dark crimson stained all over Azusawa’s gloves and apron, and a couple dozen black and white squares under her boots— a sign of her… “work”, she figured. Nene wondered what exactly the squares were.

“Oh, it’s you, Kusanagi-san…!” Azusawa said, an eerie sense of familiarity filling her soft, mouse-like voice. Nene’s heart raced— why was Azusawa acting like they had met before? She hung up her knife on a rack above the two and said: “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Y— yes, uh, erm…” 

Nene found herself at a complete loss for words. How was she supposed to respond to any of this? Was Azusawa mistaking her for someone else? In the midst of Nene’s panic, Azusawa giggled, her laugh as light as the hushed chime of a jingle bell. 

“I know Touya-kun would want us to get started right away, but how about we take a picture first?” Azusawa suggested, grabbing a small black device from a drawer in the desk the half-butchered body laid on top of. 

“A… pick-cher?” Nene repeated, hoping that vocalizing the sound would jog her memory. The word sounded familiar (maybe Rui had mentioned it before?) but she certainly didn’t recognize the black box in Azusawa’s hands with its large, protruding nose, smooth tabs and tiny gears lining the wide top. Azusawa unscrewed the tip of the nose, revealing a line of circles protected by a pane of glass. Nene’s heart dropped; was this odd device an instrument of death like the “knife” was?

Before Nene knew it, Azusawa had her arm around Nene’s shoulder, pulling her close and aiming the nose at the two. Nene fought the urge to push Azusawa off her— aggravating the latter seemed like a dangerous endeavor, so she stayed close, shivering at the uncomfortable warmth of Azusawa’s shoulder pressed against hers.

“Kusanagi-san, smile for the camera!”

Nene never forced a smile so strained before in her life.

A quick flash emitted from the camera, and Nene found herself in a perfectly normal state as Azusawa lowered it, gazing at some kind of panel. 

“Would you like to see the photo?” Azusawa asked, a gentle grin gracing her face. 

“Sure…?” Nene cautiously obliged— who knew what Azusawa would do if she answered otherwise?

She held out the camera to Nene, who nearly flinched at the perfect replication of the two on the small window. What shocked her more was her own reflection— it had been at least two months since she last looked at herself in a mirror, and the person that squinted back at her in the photograph looked like a stranger. It dawned on her then that she could no longer smile like a professional performer should— the trapeze accident had taken away more than just her mobility— it took something far more permanent. She grimaced, but Azusawa’s smile remained unchanged— buzzing with the same uncanny energy it always had since Nene first spoke up. 

“Do you mind if I call you Nene-chan? You can call me Kohane in that case, of course…!” She asked, clasping her hands together in a feebly innocent manner. 

Had she told Kohane her first name? The more Nene thought about that, the worse her headache got, so she simply nodded in agreement. Either way, Nene was certain her hands were tied right now, but she settled her panic with a simple reminder. 

20,000 yen a month.

Once each of them achieved that first paycheck, they could combine their earnings for a whopping 80,000 yen. That would be enough to get them on their feet and into the city, new jobs in tow with a stabler income. That was her plan to save them all, to pay off her personal debt to them tenfold. Frankly, she was in opposition to Tsukasa’s emergency fund plan, because the four of them didn’t need it— what they needed was to get out of here as fast as possible. She’d make that clear once she was in a better position to argue with him, especially since he was easily irate and ridiculously stubborn when faced with any opposition.

“That’s fine, erm, Kohane-san.” She stiffly lied, trying her hardest not to arouse Kohane’s suspicion. Damn it, she was obviously sweating bullets over it all. “It’s… nice to meet you?”

Kohane blanked out for a moment, pausing at Nene’s extended hand. This is what Tsukasa said to do with business stuff, right? Did he give her wrong advice again?! 

And then Kohane giggled, the exact same way she had before, as if the sound was pre-recorded like circus soundtracks. She took Nene’s hand in a loose grip— too loose, and grinned.

“I already know you, Nene-chan. I love your shows!”

What.

“Actually, I got an autograph from Tsukasa-kun around half a year ago… I was wondering if I could get one from you, too?” She asked, and spoke again before letting Nene respond: “Oh wait, let me show you the photo I got Tsukasa-kun to sign…!”

Kohane quickly ducked down to throw open the bottom cabinet, scuffling and searching through a clear bin. Nene then realized those black squares littered across the floor must’ve been photographs, like the one they had just taken together. Kohane began humming to herself until she eventually gasped in delight at the resurfacing of her beloved photograph. She held it up to Nene’s face; far too close for comfort (Nene felt like Kohane’s finger was close enough to jab her eye)— and Nene took in the detail of it all.

It was definitely Tsukasa, even if he in no way resembled the old jester now. He was grinning from ear to ear with his chest puffed out in bravado, and a weird sense of nostalgia came over her. She knew how happy he must’ve been, with his face immortalized like this— Tsukasa loved attention, and even though she always found that desire of his foolish, she wished the four of them could turn back to those simpler times— where her biggest gripe with the jester was his pride. Based on what Kohane said, this photograph came from the time in which the cracks had begun to show— Tsukasa stopped eating and sleeping a little bit after this, she recalled, and the three of them only found out once he collapsed mid-recital. The terms of their contracts had changed (he did not inform them of this until far too late), and who knows what Tsukasa did in order to sell those last few tickets— he never shared and frankly, they were all too scared to ask.

That was their last performance; their final chance to make an impact on their tiny world. She remembered the dizzying lights above her, sweat beading down her face as she took the riskiest jump of her life. If it had just gone perfect, maybe they wouldn’t have ended up like this— her troupe was just happy that she survived the drop and landed in the net mostly-correctly.

Would Tsukasa’s smile still look like that if she hadn’t messed up? Would he ever smile like this again? What about everyone else? And not only that— she stared at the star “autograph” scrawled in the bottom right— why was someone like Kohane their only fan she knew of?!

Nene blinked back her tears, standing up straight. She couldn’t cry in front of Kohane.

“Do you… mind if I show this to him?” Nene asked, unsure of what compelled her to say such a thing. It’s not like showing him his old self would make him go back to how he was.

“Of course…! But make sure you bring it back—  it’s really important to me.”

Nene resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Kohane’s oddly serious tone. Kohane knew nothing about any of them. Or at least, Nene hoped so (because she had huge stalker vibes). Kohane then placed the photograph in Nene’s palm, curling Nene’s fingers over it and resting her hand on top— for way too long, once again. When Kohane (eventually) pulled her hand back, Nene slowly stuffed the photograph in her pocket as Kohane watched the movement of her arm like a hawk. Yeah, she was not going to let Tsukasa touch this stupid black square in any manner, he could just observe.

“I will, don’t worry.” Nene reaffirmed. For better or for worse, she was feeling a bit less stressed now. 

“And then… your autograph?” Kohane reminded, pen extended to her— although Nene had never explicitly agreed to give her such a thing, the tense air must’ve turned her request into an unsaid expectation. Nene took the pen and scrawled a couple lines in place of her name, not really considering what she’d put into an autograph anyways. Regardless, Kohane was satisfied with the pathetic lines meant to represent her name, and placed the freshly signed photograph back in her file cabinet. “So now, let’s get started for today, Nene-chan!”

Nene firmly nodded, clenching her fists in anticipation; her nails digging into her palms. Kohane grabbed the large knife she was using earlier from the storage hooks above them, and slapped a box of plastic gloves down on the side of the prep table.

“Food safety is important… or at least, that’s what Touya-kun says.” Kohane explained, implicitly telling Nene to put on a pair. She complied, the unfamiliar sensation of thin plastic wrapped around her digits irritating her skin. Cloth gloves would be preferable— she already had a number of calluses due to the nature of trapeze performance— she didn't need her hands to be itchy on top of that.

Kohane then went over various cuts to be made on the carcass she started earlier; both what she had already done and what needed to be done. Nene learned a bit too much about what portions of the human body produced the most tender meat; Kohane then went on a completely unnecessary ramble about how they made the ginger one taste-test every part of the human body in a perversely affectionate manner. Nene was ever-so-slightly grossed out by this line of conversation, so she proposed a new topic:

“So if you’re a fan of Wonderlands x Showtime… what was your favorite act of ours?” Nene awkwardly interrupted, earning an off put glance from Kohane.

 “Oh… well my favorite has to be you on the trapeze! It was such a shame when you fell during that one trick— really, I thought you were going to die.” Kohane smiled, as if the memory from a few months prior had been nostalgic.

Nene froze. How much had Kohane seen? How much did she know?

“But you’re not dead,” Kohane continued, “and I’m glad Touya-kun listened to me— after all, we’re friends now, Nene-chan.”

“Listened to you about what?” Nene pressed. Kohane responded by swinging down her knife a little too close to Nene’s hand, making her yelp in fear. The butcher left Nene’s question unanswered, that same eerie smirk still glued to her face. 

“...Friends don’t question each other, Nene-chan.” She slowly responded, after around a minute or so of her continuing to work with no instruction. Nene realized that she had barely done any work— there had been a lot of Kohane cutting, flaying and separating pieces while Nene just watched. Hopefully this wouldn’t affect her pay…

“It’s your turn to try.”

Nene swallowed her spit, heeding Kohane’s demand. She readyed the knife and—

It had been a long first half of the day. 

To say Nene was unsatisfied would be an understatement. She swore Kohane was on the verge of killing her at any moment, although she rationalized the feeling as just being her usual anxiety. But for the next thirty minutes or so, she was free from the bloody apron and the sharp tools she wielded with no dexterity or precision like Kohane could. In the time it took for Nene to properly butcher one body Kohane already completed five; and gave her this presumptuous, pitying look that reeked of superiority. I’m better than you, Kohane had said without even opening her mouth. It was that kind of behavior that irritated Nene to no end; pushing her to fight tooth and nail.

It brought her back to the time when the four of them had competed with rivalling troupes; Emu and Rui would always get on her case for pushing herself too hard— for practicing until there were gashes in her palms from the bar. Sometimes it wasn’t even on purpose; Nene loved trapeze, she loved the feeling of flying across the stage just like a bird— having so much fun she didn’t ever want to stop. She hadn’t ever seen a bird before, but from how Rui described it— it would be a dream to be one, wouldn’t it? To be able to fly high above the Earth, ignorant to humanity, to have the wide-open Sky all to herself— that is, until some human threw rocks at her until she died. It didn’t sound so appealing anymore, with that knowledge in mind.

Apparently her break had intersected with Shiraishi, Shinonome and Rui’s today. Something about their roles made it so that they couldn’t take rotational breaks like everyone else, but she also didn’t really want to find out why that was. Rui took a seat next to Nene; the marbled stone table was far neater than anything they had at home. Well, anything in this estate was better than the frankenstein of a couch they owned, she figured. Shiraishi was resting her hand on the door of a large box Nene had learned was called a refrigerator today, pouting as she scanned the shelves inside.

“Akito…! We have no food!” She whined, although Nene could clearly see the shelf was full from her vantage point. He groaned, trudging over to the fridge and towering over Shiraishi— clearly displeased by her childish behavior. 

“We have plenty. If you’re too damn lazy to make lunch, I’ll do it.” 

“Really?! I love, love, love you, Akito—”

“Shut up.” He interrupted, putting a hand over her face and (gently) shoving her out of his way. She beamed at his acceptance of her task, humming a simple melody to herself as she plopped down in the seat across from Nene. Things quickly got awkward; Rui clearly had no interest in talking, and Shiraishi was content enough to simply fiddle with her thumbs on the table— quietly roleplaying some kind of… war? Nene wasn’t even going to try and understand it.

“Uhm… what are we having for lunch?” Nene spoke up, cutting the silence in the midst of sizzling oil.

“Pan-seared human heart.” Shinonome answered without missing a beat. “Just fucking with ya, it’s only some rice ‘n beans.” Nobody laughed at his poor excuse for a joke— in fact, Shiraishi had quite a bit to say about it:

“You’re so gross, Akito! Don’t even joke about that…! I’d kill you if you made me eat a heart!”

“What, so you could take a bite outta me too?” He teased, laughing at her disgust. “At least you’d be gettin’ lotsa protein, y’know?”

“I’m not going to eat you.” She pouted, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What, you’d let it be those two freaks over there instead?” He scoffed, rudely gesturing to Rui and Nene.

Nene suddenly felt Shiraishi’s eyes lock onto her and Rui. Rui pressed his lips together in a thin line, clearly holding back whatever it was he wanted to say. She understood his frustration. At first, she didn’t quite understand what Shinonome was making the joke for, but it was clear now.

But, simultaneously, something wasn’t adding up. If Shinonome and Shiraishi knew that they were cannibals, Rui had never informed Nene of the sort. Pairing that with Kohane being a fan of Wonderlands x Showtime, a heavy realization sunk into her shoulders. These four knew a lot about them, probably even more than she knew of at this moment. If they knew all of this, how long had they been watching? How long had they been waiting, to grab them by chains and force them into this mundane and equally dystopian job?

“We’re not freaks.”

Oh. Nene hadn't realized she said that out loud until Shiraishi glowered at her. Rui gaped at Nene in shock; maybe even fear? A tense silence between the four followed for a second (Nene thought it had been a whole minute in her embarrassment), until Shinonome found it appropriate to cackle and shake his head.

“Makes sense why Kohane got put with this one. It doesn’t even know how to behave! Ya think she’s gonna kill it?” He loudly jeered, making sure Nene had heard him.

“No! Why would Kohane kill Kusanagi-san?” Shiraishi objected, matching his volume.

Nene was starting to get a serious headache. She almost wanted to go back to Kohane now. How in the world did Rui put up with these two? Before she knew it, Shinonome had set down the bowls on the table, shooting her a nasty glare full of contempt. So much for good first-second impressions.

She realized two things then. First, that her portion was awfully small (and Rui’s was only marginally better). Secondly, she was given no chopsticks, unlike everyone else. She stared in the bowl of nostalgic familiarity (rice) mixed with small morsels of an odd shape she’d never seen before (beans), intimidated by the prospect of eating with her hands. She shot a “help me” glance at Rui.

“Nene, would you like to borrow my chopsticks?” He offered, pointing them her way.

“I— If you don’t mind…” She bashfully trailed off, feeling a little guilty at his suggestion. She thought he would’ve reasoned with Shinonome and Shiraishi, not this… regardless, Rui handed Nene his pair of chopsticks.

“Wait, wait, that’s not fair! Why is Kamishiro-san being punished for Kusanagi-san’s behavior? Akito, go get more chopsticks!” Shiraishi barked, standing up and pulling his chair from the table.

“Why the hell can’t you get it? You’re already up, for fucks sake…!” He grumbled, his brow furrowing in frustration.

“That’s because you’ll do anything for me, A—ki—to!” She chirped, enunciating each syllable in a sing-song voice. Clearly she was right about Shinonome, because he got up and grabbed another set of chopsticks, slamming them down next to Rui’s bowl. “Yay!” She cheered.

Now she understood why Rui offered the chopsticks to her. Shiraishi seemed to be… a bit dense. Yeah, that sounded about right— Rui was smiling to himself now at the success of his trick, as the four of them began to eat their food.

The beans were interesting. The savory flavor they held was sharply different from that of human meat. Not only that, they were tender and easy to chew, and paired well with the soft, fluffy rice. Rui swiftly snuck a couple beans into her bowl, having noticed her smaller portion.

“I don’t like these beans very much.” He mouthed. Okay, so maybe Rui's actions weren’t out of pure kindness.

Suddenly the white kitchen door flung open, and there was Kohane— still donning her crimson splattered apron. Her footsteps echoed throughout the kitchen as she turned her head up to look at the four of them, before her glare fell square on Nene's forehead.

“Nene-chan. It’s been thirty-two minutes.” Kohane said in a low voice, brandishing her butcher's knife in her direction. Nene's heart was practically beating out of her chest, blood pounding in her ears. Her legs began to tremble, just like the last time she held the trapeze and her chest tightened— the empty void of Kohane's pupils struck the fear of Death into her soul; and Nene found that to be far more dangerous than the knife she held.

“O— oh, I— I’m sorry—" She stammered, clasping her hands together so hard that her knuckles turned white. She shut her eyes, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating and only half-succeeding. She didn't want to see the faces of the two wolves who'd encourage her demise, nor would she want to see Rui try to protect her because of her own mistake, or—

“Go.” Kohane ordered— nothing more, nothing less. Nene's eyes fluttered open, surprised to see her body in one piece. And then she ran, not daring to look back. She sprinted through every door of the estate, nearly tripping over both the tiles inside and the dirt road outside. She wanted to run farther, far, far away from this place— she wanted to jump up in the air and fly off and never come back. She still wanted to be a bird, even while knowing that would be her undoing. 

Her pace became unsteady as she re-entered the factory, pressure freezing her legs to the core. Nausea ate at her gut, ruining the meal she (somewhat) enjoyed only moments prior. She spotted the kitchen door in the horizon and trudged forwards, as if controlled by an invisible hand in spite of her body screaming no, no more.

“Nene-chan?” 

Nene flinched, whipping her head around in the direction of the voice.

“E— Emu?” She realized, finally coming back to her senses. Nene heard the buzz and whir of machines and conveyor belts clearly now— maybe even the sound of boiling water, too? Not to mention, the whole contraption laid out before them was incredibly large; unlike anything Nene had ever seen before— it was like a grand magician's illusion. 

“Are you okay?” Emu asked, taking Nene's shaking hands in hers.

“I’m fine—”

“Emu, I need your help over here! Nene’ll be fine, trust her!” Tsukasa called out.

Nene blinked.

Tsukasa said he'd be fine on her own. For him of all people to say that—

She took another look at the two-person assembly line hard at work in front of her and came to a realization. Tsukasa and Emu were working far harder than she was— and while she did disagree with Tsukasa's current plan for the four of them, she still couldn't let everyone else do everything for her. More than anything right now, she needed to support Wonderlands x Showtime in the same way they always had for her. She had to keep pushing forward...!

Nene braved herself, walking into the kitchen with what little courage she could muster.

Contrary to her expectations, Tsukasa still believed in her, just like the jester had before.

Chapter Text

An absentmindedly found herself staring at Kamishiro’s still-crooked nose. What a poor thing he was, always mouthbreathing— his throat dry enough to add an unpleasant rasp to his voice.  Not only that, he wasn’t eating any of the lunch she worked so hard to make! The onions took her an eternity to cut up into little pieces and simmer down to the right texture, and yet he hadn’t even touched his plate! Maybe his nose was the problem? But he had eaten fine before when Akito made lunch, right? Did Kamishiro not like her cooking? Was her cooking bad? Was everyone pretending to like it?

“Akito, we should fix Kamishiro-san’s nose.” She quietly said, tracing her chopsticks over the edge of her plate. This time it wasn’t really an order, moreso a suggestion— she wanted to know what Akito would think. Touya never said they had to fix any injuries the new hires got, just that they shouldn’t die— and Kamishiro's broken nose was anything but fatal.

Akito looked at her while munching on a few slithers of onion. It was that look, the one where he’d quickly sigh after— and yes, he had just done so— with an air of concern. She forced down her smile at his reaction, basking in the glory of his concerned gaze. Akito cared so much, and that was her favorite thing about him.

“Why?” Akito questioned, simply— as if there was no point in doing such a thing.

“Because then Kamishiro-san will like us! And we can get him to do stuff.” She explained. Akito was always concerned with objectives over feelings, so maybe he’d see the benefit—

“Isn’t threatenin’ him fun though?” He interjected, clearly missing the point.

She frowned.

Akito was always so concerned with violence that it ruined his sense of social survival! You have to be scary enough so people don’t act out of line, but kind enough so they don’t run away or plot against you… or so, that’s what Touya said, at least. It made total sense! 

“Jeez, you’re so difficult…! Just listen to me, okay?” She whined, tugging on his muzzle. 

Akito rolled his eyes, clearly resisting the urge to spit in her face— but then his tough, stoic grimace suddenly softened into something more approachable.

“Will it make ya happy?” He asked in a low, delicate tone. He was still worried about her, she realized then. An slowly nodded, and Akito carefully repositioned himself back on his chair in response. It was an unspoken agreement.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what are you two whispering about?” Kamishiro shyly inquired from across the table. Crap, she completely forgot he was here, even though she was the one who brought him up. A sudden panic overtook her, as her brain rushed to come up with the best possible response.

“We’re going to fix your nose! Akito, we have some splints in the medicine cabinet, right?” She blurted out, hoping the splints she mentioned actually existed in their estate. Kamishiro gaped at her in shock while Akito shook his head in amusement, stifling a laugh.

“Yes we do, my love.” He artificially flirted, clearly cracking himself up at his own usage of a pet name. 

Oh, he was so dead. Why did he need to be such a sappy yet derisive asshole sometimes?! This was so embarrassing for him to do in front of Kamishiro!

“Then go get it, dork!” She barked back, shoving his chair out of the table like she had yesterday. Kamishiro shrunk down in his seat, clearly apprehensive about the ordeal as Akito paced out of the kitchen with a wild grin plastered on his face. "God, he's such a weirdo..." She complained. Kamishiro gave her a dumbfounded look, as if her complaint was absolutely absurd. Maybe he was a weirdo too!

She began tapping her finger against the wooden table before Kamishiro spoke again:

“So… how are you going to fix it?”

An was surprised he was even asking; after all, Kohane had said something about the green one having some kind of serious accident, but Kamishiro was clearly unfamiliar with the nature of fractured and broken bones based off his question alone. That was fine, because this was one of the very few "scientific" topics she knew about (which had been Touya's courtesy in teaching her)!

“Oh, well, we just have to break your nose again and put it back into place! Then the splint keeps it together and it’ll heal properly.” She elaborated cheerfully. Hopefully Kamishiro would appreciate her kind gesture, and then eat his lunch properly in return! It was a perfect transaction, right? If Kamishiro's nose gets fixed, then he has no reason to dislike her!

Contrary to her expectations, Kamishiro looked absolutely horrified by this prospect. She was immediately frustrated— An was doing him a favor, right? She didn’t have to fix his nose! It's not like there was any other way to fix it, anyways!

“Uhm… could you be the one to do that and not Shinonome-san?” He suddenly asked, making her pause. She blinked, replaying the dialogue in her head. And again. And then she had to open her mouth after, because—

“You want me to fix your nose instead of Akito?” She echoed. Was this a good thing? Did it mean Kamishiro liked her? So the nose was the problem then, right? If he liked her enough to prefer her over a boy like Akito, then he must like her cooking!

Kamishiro vigorously nodded in response, and she beamed. The feeling was almost elating— Kamishiro liked her more than Akito! He felt safer with her! But then a new dilemma came to her all at once— Akito would love to know just how scared Rui was of him! Not only that, she really didn’t feel like fixing his nose, but… this was also a good opportunity to make Kamishiro like her even more, right? She put a hand on her chin, contemplating the two choices she could make here…

Well, she did care about Akito’s feelings more than Kamishiro’s. And it would be fun to see Akito so happy, right? Akito had shown so much restraint recently, and An figured he deserved a reward for behaving so well! Seeing Kamishiro in pain might be perfect!

“I’m glad you trust me, Kamishiro-san, but… Akito is a lot better at these sorts of things. When I broke my arm once, he put it back into place and was super gentle!” She chirped, her voice warm with nostalgia.

It was a year ago when she toppled over on her arm mid-chase, contorting it in a manner she didn’t even know was possible. When she wailed and screamed in pain, Akito rushed her back to the estate in his arms (disregarding their kill entirely), and snapped her arm back into place. She must’ve passed out from the pain, because she remembered waking up to Touya and Kohane fashioning a cast for her broken arm— all while Akito hovered over the three of them from the back wall.

When Akito and Kohane had successfully pressured Touya into buying painkillers despite their dwindling profits, An was finally able to move around a little— but she certainly was never alone. Akito practically nursed her back to health— feeding her, carrying her, bringing her medicine, even bathing her— hell, he even got into an argument with Kohane over it all! Everything was so tense a year ago— the electricity in their estate went out due to Akito’s selfish preoccupation with her, which made Touya genuinely suggest they all commit group suicide together— but that year was the most loved An Shiraishi had ever felt!

After all, everything fell apart because she got injured, so she was just that important, right? She almost wanted to get hurt again— she wanted Akito to bend over backwards for her and for Kohane to get needlessly defensive over her and for Touya to despair over her uselessness. And not only that, Akito was the happiest man in the world whenever he towered over someone and tore them to shreds— and as his girlfriend, of course she'd be jealous of his kills! If he was the one to hurt her next time, she was sure it would be the best feeling ever! Having just his love was not enough, even if she knew the unfortunate reality— in no world would Akito agree to rip a single tear into her flesh. That was a consequence of him selfishly caring about her health too much.

But unlike her, Akito could rip into Kamishiro. They hadn't known each other long at all, and Akito certainly didn't care about Kamishiro in the same way Akito cared for An. After all, that'd be impossible, she thought— but then she thought some more, and a concern came to mind. If Akito had listened to her (and technically followed Touya's protocol in turn), and fixed Kamishiro's nose, what would happen after that? Would Kamishiro hog all of Akito's attention? Would Akito dote on Kamishiro, as if the two of them were no different?

Before she could ponder on it anymore, Akito walked back into the kitchen, noticing the dark expression on her face.

“A— An…?” Akito started, loosely holding the splint in his palm. 

“Let’s get this over with, okay?” She forced a smile, shutting down that conversation without an extra word.

An stood up out of her chair and yanked a trembling Rui out of his, who yelped in pain at the harsh tug on his arm. Good. She hoped it hurt. It was even better that he put up zero fight— Kamishiro's eyes were wide with fear as he followed her, like a chained lamb. 

That was her Akito, the sweet, obedient one that trailed behind them with a self-satisfied smirk— likely excited for what was going to come. She wasn't going to let him go for some stupid man-eating monster. She needed Akito. And Kohane. And Touya. She would not let a single one be taken.

She slammed her bedroom door shut behind them.

An was disappointed, to say the least.

Akito had listened to her orders and didn’t kill Kamishiro. Now the latter was on her bed, passed out like an idiot, but she didn’t dare leave the room. She had to watch Kamishiro, as long as there was a chance he’d wake up. Akito promptly got bored and left, so it was now just the two of them. Her and Kamishiro.

More than she was disappointed, she was jealous. Kamishiro not only had his nose broken by Akito, but then had it fixed by him too. She was so stupid, thinking about Kamishiro’s impression of her and diligently following Touya’s advice— maybe Akito had a point in not listening to him! It would benefit them all if she killed Kamishiro right now, especially if Akito would end up attached, right? It wasn’t fair that Kamishiro got all this attention, even from her, because now she had to watch him for who knows how long, because what if he was evil and tried to eat them alive?! God, she just wanted to rip Kamishiro’s fingernails off or something! It wasn’t fair! Akito wasn’t treating her fairly! He was off doing who knows what, and she was mad, because it wasn’t with her! Why wasn’t he here right now?!

She kicked her bedframe, hoping it’d jolt Kamishiro awake. It didn’t. She needed to hurt him, and starting that while he was asleep wouldn’t be satisfying! She kicked it again, hard enough to jostle the mattress— still nothing. She threw an object off her dresser that she was too frustrated to identify, and plopped down in front of her door in defeat— knees huddled and sobbing. She groaned and whined and pounded her fists against the door, but nobody came. She sobbed louder— pay attention to me, it said. I don’t want to be alone.

Just getting up and going to find one of the others wasn’t enough. They had to find her here. And more importantly, she had an excuse— Kamishiro had to be monitored, right? This wasn’t a situation she put herself into. It was Kamishiro’s fault for—

For…

For being so cute?

She paused, slowly picking herself up off the floor and wiping her nose free of snot with her sleeve, and then her eyes. He looked so peaceful, sleeping on her bed— purple hair falling in wisps across his face. Without thinking, she gently brushed his bangs aside and studied the slow rise and fall of his chest— and her heart squeezed a little in response. It was weak, but there was certainly a feeling there.

This was bad.

Akito wasn’t the one getting attached to Kamishiro— it was her getting attached. It was easier to just blame everything on Akito, to take precautions based off what he could feel— but the truth was that her heart was entirely at fault. Her stupid, stupid heart. She had a crush on Rui, which was the embodiment of everything that wasn't supposed to happen. She knew what Touya would want her to do in this situation; to kill Kamishiro, probably. Attachments to outsiders were dangerous, after all.

Attachments to outsiders were dangerous, but...

An frowned, blinking away the tears that began to resurface, reality crashing down on her. She held herself in her arms, wondering what would happen if she did kill Kamishiro, like she should. Maybe they'd shower her with love and affection. Maybe Touya would praise—

She sighed, knowing this wouldn't happen. Touya would likely be more angry that they'd have to kill an employee out of necessity due to her fickle feelings. Not only that, even if they did give her affection, she was sure it would still make her upset for... at least a few days. An didn't really enjoy being sad, even if sadness was a good vehicle for gathering attention.

An looked out her bedroom window, noticing the Sun had already set. How many hours had she spent, sitting in this room, watching him and wanting to kill him and (perhaps) wanting to kiss him?

She sighed again. This situation was nothing but pathetic, and yet—

Her gaze fell back down to Kamishiro's unconscious body, who she tucked in under the covers without thinking.

An hated that she hoped this wouldn't be the only time they'd share a bed.

Chapter Text

Well, fixing Kamishiro's nose was awfully underwhelming, Akito thought. The damn freak didn't even scream in fear— as if screaming was beneath his kind or whatever— and passed out at the slightest twinge of pain. What a drag.

So he walked out. An'd be fine by herself watching that guy snooze, plus he had better things to do. Those “better things” involved asking Touya what the fuck was up, because Touya had been acting weird and it was seriously pissing Akito off. Whoever messed with his partner was gonna get their neck snapped— no, worse. After all, insta-kills were so damn boring.

He moseyed out of the estate, kicking pebbles between his shoes. God, this sucked. Why was he always the one that had to stick it up to Touya? Usually Kohane helped out a bit, but she was clearly unbothered by Touya's current behavior (and was oddly supportive of the new hiring policy), while Touya always had An trained like some kind of pedigree show dog (so she had no backbone for a confrontation). Not to mention, Touya was deeply stubborn, neurotic, and frankly, always a pain in the ass to confront. Hopefully he wouldn't be a dick and double down on all the word diarrhea that'd been spewing from his damn mouth about profits these past few weeks.

Akito opened the door to Touya’s office, not really giving a damn if the guy was busy. Touya was there alright, putting some numbers in a calculator and scrawling all over paper, not even turning his head up as he spoke: 

“Hello, Akito.” Rude.

“Hey. We needta’ talk, partner.”

Touya sighed, as if he’d been anticipating Akito’s arrival.

“...I’m busy.” He flatly responded, still focused on his paperwork. Touya was clearly disinterested in talking and Akito knew that, but he also didn’t really give a shit whatsoever. So he’d keep talking, like always.

“The fuck we need employees for? We’ve been managin’ fine ever since An’s arm healed up, so it’s not for profit. I know you lied about that, so I wanna know the real reason.” He went on, walking over to Touya’s desk and staring him down. Touya clicked his tongue and sighed once again, glaring at Akito in return. “I’m just worried about you, dammit.”

Touya shoved the calculator into the desk drawer before standing up out of his chair, and Akito was reminded of the former’s taller stature. He looked as if he were about to speak; his mouth ever so slightly parting, but never quite forming a single syllable. What in the fuck was he hiding?

“It’s ok man, if you got some kinda reason for this. I just… I just need to know.” Akito said, squeezing Touya’s hand in his. It was particularly unlike Touya to get so quiet, and the way he was clamming up right now made Akito uneasy. Squeezing Touya’s hand was more likely a feeble attempt to comfort himself, if anything.

“It’s not a lie. It is… for profit.” Touya said, looking him dead in the eyes. “We have enough to manage by ourselves, but—”

“Then what the fuck was the point of everything?” Akito growled. “Killing your dad, An’s dad, my idiot sister… outsiders are dangerous, right? We all agreed on that. Why are we letting these god damn cannibals work with us?”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Touya grumbled, retracting his hand from Akito’s grasp and crossing his arms. “You don’t want to work for the rest of your life, right?”

“Hell yeah I do! Killing people’s fucking awesome.” He exclaimed, pridefully pointing a thumb at his chest. “Although, can you please get Kohane off my ass about mutilatin’ the bodies?”

“No. Also you won’t be saying that when you’re fifty and have chronic knee pain, Akito.”

“What, like I’d live to fifty? You’d better kill me and chop me up into pieces if I ever get that old, haha!” He laughed, throwing an arm around Touya’s shoulder.

Touya frowned. Not funny, apparently. But Akito was being quite serious, so it wasn’t really a joke, either. He had little enjoyment in his life outside of the few things he could indulge in—whether it was bloodied carcasses, An’s plush lips, Touya’s warmth, or the stupid shit he and Kohane would get up to in the kitchen. If they were doing fine now, what was the point of changing? Why put all of that at risk?

“Akito. We could go to the city by increasing our profits with them.” He firmly stated. “I’m ensuring our future.”

Akito paused. That was his big reason? So they could move out of the estate and stop working? When the hell had Touya ever thought of the future, anyways? Besides, the four of them only ever went to the city to check up on how their product was faring in grocery stores; and Touya had never expressed an interest in living there. None of them had. Their estate was comfortable and there were none of the few eyes the Japanese government still had in their vicinity. And more importantly, that was their home.

“Where’s all this coming from, huh?” He questioned.

“It’s a dream. We’re together for the rest of our lives, after all. Is it wrong for me to dream for once, Akito?”

Yes. Yes it was.

“Sounds like a nightmare. How the fuck am I supposed to kill people in the city?”

Touya giggled. That wasn’t supposed to be funny.

“You really are an animal. An was completely right in making us buy that dog muzzle for you.” Touya smiled, but Akito couldn’t help but wince at the dig. Touya wasn’t getting how serious this was.

“Look, Touya. I don’t like this idea— I don’t wanna live in the city. I’ll work twice as hard, I swear, just let me rip that purple-haired fuck to shreds.”

“Oh.”

A tense silence fell between the two of them. Akito yawned, deciding to sit atop Touya’s desk. Akito wasn’t going to leave until he gave up this stupid idea. Touya was going to get them killed with the whole city life thing, not to mention it sounded boring as hell.

“That was a lie just now, actually…” Touya suddenly blurted out. “I’m not interested in the city.”

What.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Akito yelled, making Touya flinch. “I had a feelin’ ‘bout it, but what the hell, Touya!”

“A— Akito—”

He grabbed Touya by the collar of his shirt, fists shaking with rage. What the fuck was he trying to do, manipulating him like that?! Akito was trying to help him, and this was the thanks he got?! This was the thanks he got for being the only responsible fucking person here?! There wasn’t a single reason why he shouldn’t just burn down the whole factory with him inside! Maybe then Touya would realize how useless and moronic and stupid he was without him, and then he’d either starve to death or regress into one of those damn cannibals! At least Kohane and An showed him some real appreciation!

“Let go of Touya-kun.”

He whipped his head around to see Kohane in the doorway and blinked. Fuck, what the hell was he doing?

“My bad.” He mumbled, letting go of Touya. He lowered his head when he caught a glimpse of how pale Touya went— not to mention his shallow, quick breathing. Shit, he really blew it this time, huh?

“Touya-kun, are you okay?”

Akito heard Kohane’s approaching footsteps, but he refused to look up from his feet, embarrassment singeing his cheeks. Touya didn’t respond to Kohane’s question. There was a lump caught in Akito’s throat. Don’t cry, stupid.

“What happened between you two, Akito-kun?” She asked instead. He turned his head up to see that Touya was still out of it, holding his arms perfectly straight at his sides. Jeez, Akito really fucked him up…

“Touya lied to me and I dunno… I just blew up. I’m sorry, man.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. This sucked.

“He… lied to you?” She repeated, parting her lips in surprise. It seemed like Kohane found it strange too— Touya never did shit like this. Thank God she recognized it too.

“Yeah. I wanted to know why he’s letting those guys work here, and he just… kept lying ‘bout it. Almost like somethin’s forcing him to keep his mouth shut.” He explained, swinging his legs off the desk, one after the other.

“I see…” Kohane trailed off, staring at the ceiling.

“Haven’t you noticed it? That Touya’s been actin’ off? He basically said he still agrees with our no outsiders policy, and yet… also, sorry for talking ‘bout you as if you’re not here, Touya.” Still no response. Shit, Touya’s continued silence was really stressing him out. He didn’t take the guy to be so skittish, in fact, Akito had never seen Touya get like this.

“It’s really strange, especially with what you said. I wonder…” She looked back down at Akito, and then back at Touya— as if the cogs in her mind were shifting. Kohane was seeing something he wasn’t, and he wanted to know what.

“Huh? You got any ideas?” He interjected.

Kohane fiddled with her thumbs, her gaze still fixated on Touya. It was times like these where he couldn’t get a good read on her face— when even the slightest movement of her eyes looked completely artificial, but not ingenuine, either. It was a contradiction he couldn’t explain about Kohane; but he figured that was something they had in common. Neither of them were open books like Touya or An, which—

“It’s nothing. What I just thought of wouldn’t make any sense, anyways.” She shook her head, finally pulling her gaze back to Akito.

—yeah, he found that frustrating. Sometimes he wondered why he couldn't be in charge of shit around here. Everything would be so much easier if he could get Kohane to be less… weird. 

“M‘kay.” He shrugged, dropping the topic. It wasn’t like he was in the position to start another argument, anyways. He still felt guilty, which made him murdery, and if he couldn’t kill in the next hour, he’d just want to die. Wrap shit up quickly and you can get outta here, he thought. No point in pressin’ her.

“Where are you going?” She asked as he turned to walk out the door. He didn’t turn back to look at her, but he could feel it. He could feel her sharp glare boring through the back of his head as he refused to linger on his culpability. There was no clear aggression in her voice— it was an inquisitive tone, inviting— and if he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t think it was a threat. He huffed in amusement. Seriously, they all loved to push him around sometimes. At this point, what was there left to do but laugh?

“Tell Touya I’m sorry when he’s back to normal. I need some fresh air.” He said, sticking his hands in his pockets. If Kohane was gonna teach him a lesson, it was whatever. He didn’t give a fuck; which was why he walked out without waiting for her response.

It was exhilarating in every sense of the word. He let out a happy sigh, unbound by that damn muzzle— that familiarly metallic taste in his mouth was annoying as all hell, but God did he feel free. There was something fun about it; about ripping into this body in every way that Kohane would despise and that would certainly irritate Touya with how utterly wasteful it was— but he didn’t care about the why. He just needed this.

And it wasn’t so much that the muzzle bothered him; it was a gift from An, in a way, and she was good at keeping a secret. Sure, Touya and Kohane could tolerate one or two wasted kills, but certainly not the four he just went through in the past two hours. But An listened, she understood, and he doted on her— so she returned the favor. After all, if she ratted him out, she’d be complicit in the violence, since their dates always turned into fierce, gory competitions. Thinking about it now, An wasn’t as tied down by Touya’s training as Akito thought she was (in fact, her violence escalated since they started dating); even if the muzzle was a symptom of it. While the muzzle may have been a sad attempt to curb his insatiable bloodlust, Akito didn’t mind being a dog if it was with An.

He took his time strolling back to the estate, stealthily surveying the area around the front door. Once he was sure the coast was clear of Kohane or Touya, he swiftly jogged over. Hopefully they weren’t inside; he didn’t feel like explaining the crimson saturating his shirt.

Akito didn’t hear anyone there. Good. He made a beeline for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before catching himself in the mirror. He was so damn lucky he hadn’t run into anyone; he looked like a zombie with all that blood around his mouth. He peeled off his clothes, threw them into a corner, and hopped in the shower.

Cold water pelted down on his chest as he pressed the side of his head to the tile wall, irritated. Touya seriously hadn’t bought a new water heater like he promised? He glared at the showerhead that was making him shiver, sighing once the droplets gained the tiniest bit of warmth. He’d rather the shower be completely freezing— this lukewarm bullshit only served to aggravate him further. Then he’d have more reason to complain to Touya, especially since Touya was a freak that liked shitty, low-temperature showers.

Akito scrubbed the blood off his face and hands, watching the darkness spiral down the drain beneath his feet. It was as if all the carnage never happened; as if he were a canvas painted over white for the next day’s painting, and the next, and so on…

He suddenly found himself missing An. It was odd, because Akito wasn’t really the sentimental type, nor had he encountered anything that reminded him of her. But for some reason, he then got a bad gut feeling— maybe even a sense of déjà vu? Either way, it was pissing him off. He blocked it out and focused on finishing his shower, drying himself off with a towel and wrapping it around his waist.

So after he’d gotten dressed and checked to see if An was still in her room, he was met with the answer to his bad gut feeling.

Why was An sleeping next to that fuckin’ cannibal?!

Akito pulled the covers off of the guy, noticing the latter hadn’t moved an inch since he first passed out. The anxiety in his heart eased for a moment, until he caught sight of something on the ground.

…

This was the necklace he bought for her.

She was so whiny about it too, getting on her knees and begging him to buy it because Kohane and Touya insisted it was too expensive (after all, it was 326,000 yen). So he sighed and complied—  he had no use for his pocket change outside of food, anyways.

Akito crouched down and took the necklace in his palm, shoulders tense with apprehension. She never left this on the ground. He clenched his jaw, noticing the scuff marks on the door behind him.

He didn’t know what to think as he stood up and carefully set the necklace back atop her dresser. His mind turned back to that expression An bore earlier that day, and he settled on a conclusion.

Somewhere during their lunch break (which turned into the end of their shifts after Kamishiro passed out), he must’ve pissed her off. An was fine before he walked off to grab the splint, but when he came back her eyes were glazed over, as if she were dead. The joke he made prior was one she was always fine with, and he followed her wishes to a tee about fixing its nose (even though he didn’t want to), so he couldn’t make any sense of anything.

He grimaced, hoping the thing would wake up. An could’ve just slept in Akito’s room, but she chose to still sleep here knowing it was there— and that made his head ache. Was she trying to make him jealous? If so, it was working, because he wanted nothing more than to cave this guy’s head in for being anywhere near his An.

But even if he got that, he found that he wouldn’t be happy. After all, he made An mad— and An was supposed to like him unconditionally (and killing the cannibal wouldn’t fix that). That’s what made her different from Kohane and Touya— she would never give him any bullshit for the stuff he chose to do, and the way she bossed him around was entirely hollow; they both knew by now that she had no power over him. Akito and An were equals and they exchanged equal love, he thought.

Except now he was in the doghouse. Not just with An, though. Kohane was probably still pissed at him, he didn’t even want to think about Touya, and now An wasn’t acting like herself either! Really, today had been fucking horrible! And he was just being responsible! What else did they think he was supposed to do?! Just suck it up and shoulder their feelings like he always did?!

He shakily sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Fuck, he really should kill himself. He really, really should. Just take Touya’s gun and put a bullet in his head. Wouldn’t even be any fun for him, either. A boring, plain, shitty death, for an idiot loser like him.

He slid down to the floor with his back pressed against the wall, deciding he’d just sit there— he didn’t feel like moving anymore. In contrast to his misery, An continued to snore without a single care in the world. If he woke her up now, she’d probably just be angrier with him, so he resigned himself to waiting. His throat was parched, longing for something to occupy his time, but having no energy to pursue anything.

He just wanted to feel good again. Was that so much to ask for?

Chapter Text

Two major things happened the next day, Emu found.

The first was the paychecks they were promised after a full month’s work, and the second was Rui’s safe return after being missing a whole night. Some kind of large bandage dressed the ridge of his now-straightened nose, which he promptly explained; Shiraishi and Shinonome fixed it, but he ended up passing out from the pain and woke up in Shiraishi’s bed. Tsukasa and Nene gave him odd looks despite his insistence that nothing strange happened, but Emu could tell Rui wasn’t lying. Even if that hadn’t been the case, she’d still want to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“So,” Tsukasa started, a Mason jar in hand, “like I said before, I think we should commit half of our paychecks into an emergency fund, so I found us a container.”

The first time he suggested such a thing, a tense gloom quickly filled the air; but nobody outright declined his proposition. The three of them stayed quiet, so Tsukasa must’ve gone ahead and assumed it was alright; in which, Emu thought it was just okay. She understood Tsukasa’s concerns; their job wasn’t safe nor stable, and scraping whatever funds they could to dump into savings was a better decision financially. Or at least, she’d assume that was the case, based on her mathematical knowledge (gained courtesy of Rui).

But this time was different— Emu noticed it right away, the very minute Nene stood up from their couch to look Tsukasa directly in the eye. She no longer needed their help to move around; a newfound strength emanating off her ever-so-slightly clenched fists. Emu frowned, wondering if the two of them were about to fight.

“Tsukasa, I…” Nene hesitated, holding her arm before sighing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

And there it was. An ironclad resolve burned in Nene’s eyes as she looked up at the taller boy’s face. It was rare for Nene to get so moved about anything as of recent, really; so seeing her so motivated— almost like she was performing on stage— put Emu on edge. Why did it put her on edge?

Tsukasa reacted just as Emu expected. He stuck a hand in his torn pants pocket, furrowing his eyebrows in irritation.

“Why?” He curtly responded. If it was an open invitation for discussion, it certainly didn’t sound like one. Tsukasa was stubborn, wanting Nene to listen to his preposition as is, but he was always like that. The three of them always listened to him, because although he wasn’t their ringleader (Rui was), he was their guiding light, of sorts. He always took action with the purpose of protecting the four of them and so he naturally took on that role; almost like an elder brother, Emu thought.

“If we take the money we have now, we could go to the city and get a new job there. I know none of us are happy with this arrangement, and— and I think the best thing we can do is to leave now that we've made profit. Before— before things get worse.” Nene elaborated, tense under Tsukasa’s steel glare.

Emu didn’t understand a lot of things. Tsukasa was one of those things she couldn’t wrap her mind around; he got so uncharacteristically combative with Rui and Nene anytime they did anything he didn’t approve of, but never did the same for her. He definitely had the capacity to be kind and tolerant, and he certainly wasn’t cruel, but she found herself unable to get it. What made her so different? If she agreed with Nene here, would his behavior change?

Despite thinking that, her lips didn’t move an inch. Much to her surprise, Rui stepped forward before Tsukasa could respond, cutting through their silence.

“I see the merit in what both of you are saying, but I’m not entirely sure what we should go with…” Rui mused aloud, scratching the back of his neck— never quite finishing his thought. Nene didn’t look too happy about his nonchalant attitude. 

Without a single following word, the burden of their decision now rested entirely on Emu. Tsukasa or Nene, Tsukasa or Nene, Tsukasa or Nene—

“I— I agree with Tsukasa-kun…!” Emu blurted out, barely giving it a second thought. Her own decision surprised her, but it stung twice as much when she caught a glimpse of Nene’s head hung low. Her bony knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists, softly hissing in frustration. Besides that, Tsukasa looked awfully complacent; grinning when Rui automatically handed him half his check.

So that was that. Tsukasa’s plan was deemed the right one for them to take. Even if she was the reason why that happened, Emu couldn’t really feel satisfied about it— seeing Nene so distraught would never make her happy. And truthfully, the whirring machinery and blades within the factory made her want nothing more but to run away; to start over like Nene suggested, but… more savings brought them more security. Nene’s plan was, in its entirety, a gamble that could end with them back at square one. She gave Tsukasa the twenty 500 yen bills that made up half her check, watching as he carefully folded them into the Mason jar. Right, this is what made sense.

And then it was Nene’s turn. Tsukasa shuffled the bills through his fingers, narrowing his eyes, counting again—

“Nene, you’re two bills short.” He pointed out.

“I— uhm—”

“Her pay got cut,” Rui interjected, “Shinonome-san and Shiraishi-san were mean to her during our lunch break one time, so she ended up late…”

Tsukasa sighed, shaking his head. 

“That’s fine. There’s something else that’s a bit more important than our funds. About today, in particular.”

Emu, Nene and Rui all exchanged confused glances. What could be so important about today?

Emu had completely forgotten it was her birthday.

And really, it seemed like everyone else had except for Tsukasa.

So now they sat in a place called a “restaurant”, in which Tsukasa was likely inspired by one of Rui’s tales of the past none of them could imagine. The walk there had been around 5 kilometers (really, the most surprising part was Tsukasa’s clear knowledge on how to navigate through the city), and when they walked inside, it was as if they had entered a brand new world.

Customers idly chatted while plates of piping hot food were served on tables; forms and colors she’d never seen before, and pleasant aromas filling the room. Rui ordered for the four of them— although, he ended up asking the waiter what was best on the menu (maybe he couldn’t read that well after all?), so they all got the same thing; what the waiter called a “steak.” Rui explained to the three of them that it was actually animal meat, so Emu found her curiosity piqued. This was a meal that most people used to eat, before everything ended up like this.

She was pleasantly surprised by the taste. It wasn’t bland like the soup Tsukasa made, and it certainly wasn’t tough like raw meat either— far from it. She wasn’t sure if that was because of the actual steak itself, or the little dots sprinkling the top of each slice, but—

“It’s super, super, wonderhoy!” She exclaimed, ravenously picking up three more slices with her chopsticks and dropping them on her plate. “Thank you, Tsukasa-kun!”

“Ha ha ha! It’s only natural we should celebrate your birthday and our hard work with a well-earned feast, right?” He laughed, imitating her fervor and taking more steak from the board.

“H— hey, quiet down, you two…” Nene urged, noticing a few customers giving them the stink eye, “also, save some for Rui and I…!” 

“Nene, I have a proposition. If I give you my vegetables, then—”

“No.” She firmly rejected, grabbing another slice of steak.

“Tsukasa-kun, if I give you—”

“No, Rui. You said vegetables are good for you, right? You should eat them.” He said, before attempting to discreetly spit out a pepper he didn’t like.

Rui pouted, staring at Tsukasa and Nene with puppy-dog eyes.

For once, Emu found that she could truly say that she was happy.

Everything in this moment was like a memory from last year; full of smiles and their usual banter— as if all the stress from the past six months had melted away, inconsequential to their new breakthrough. Maybe Tsukasa really was right; this was the way for them to live. It was the most wonderful birthday gift of all; to see her troupe in high spirits, the gloomy tension between them broken into pieces. It was so, so, so fun!

“It’s okay Rui-kun, I’ll take some of your yummy veggies in exchange for some steak!” Emu chirped, reaching her chopsticks over the table to drop a few slices of steak on his plate. She warmly received his mountain of vegetables in return, humming to herself in amusement.

“Thank you, Emu-kun.” He bashfully smiled, before happily chowing down on some more steak. Nene shook her head in fake-disapproval, while Tsukasa nearly flinched at the rate at which Emu was now shoveling the vegetable mountain into her mouth.

“Emu, slow down! You’re not allowed to choke, especially not on your birthday!”

She swallowed her current mouthful of veggies, giving him a salute.

“Aye aye, sir! I’ll eat each veggie with mega super precision, like banbanban and sparkle sparkle!”

“What does that even mean…?” Tsukasa mumbled, much to Rui and Nene’s amusement; Emu could hear them quietly giggling at Tsukasa’s funny expression.

It was a great time. Maybe one of the best times in her life; but like everything, it couldn’t last forever. When the Sun rose the next morning and the four of them went to work, she was cruelly reminded of that fact, because she and Tsukasa had made a mistake.

“E— Emu! The shredder’s jammed!” He called out, leaning over the opening in the machinery. So that’s why only empty cans were being sent down the conveyor.

“Huh?! What should we do, Tsukasa-kun?” She exclaimed back, frantically searching around for a button to stop the conveyor as tin cans began clattering against the concrete floor.

“I— I don’t know…! Shit! Let me see if I can find something to pull this weird chunk out with, okay?”

He ran off somewhere, leaving Emu to fend with the evil conveyor belt that just wouldn’t stop. She felt a hand on her shoulder and yelped in fear, whipping her head around to catch sight of Aoyagi.

“What’s going on here, Ootori-san?” He asked, carefully. Oh God, why did he always have the scariest looking smile?!

“E— eep! U— uhm… the meat shredder got jammed, and I don’t know how to stop the conveyor, s— so…” She shivered; she could’ve sworn that Touya hadn’t blinked a single time during her explanation.

He sighed, pulling his hand off her shoulder, angrily muttering something about an “old girl.”

“The buttons to shut off the conveyors do not work, anyways, however…” He trailed off, leaning over the meat shredder. He grabbed some kind of tool out of his pocket, using it to pull the caught chunk of meat out of the shredder— which promptly whirled back to life. “Things like these only occur if poor cuts are put through this shredder. Do you understand what I am getting at?”

“N— no, sir…” She shook her head, meekly holding her hands together in front of her lap.

“Of course not. Why would I think that?” He said, huffing in amusement, “While it may be Kohane and Kusanagi-san’s job to cut our meat properly, it falls on you and Tenma-san to do the final quality control— to throw out those improper cuts they missed. If this happens again, your generous pay may face some serious consequences. Do you understand what I mean now, Ootori-san?”

“Yes! U— understood! It won’t happen again! And, uhm, thank you for fixing the shredder…” She meekly tacked on, hoping to appease him. Maybe he’d stop being so scary and would have a real smile if she was nice enough.

“You’re welcome, although that is merely my job.” Touya said. “Also, when Tenma-san decides to stop slacking off, I’d like for you to tell him both what I just explained to you as well as something else.”

“What is it?” She asked.

“Just a piece of encouragement, you could say. I expect much greater things from Tenma-san. Please let him know that.”

Chapter Text

Yesterday was terrible.

Kohane was certain that Akito and Touya could agree on that fact, especially with how they fought. She couldn’t stop thinking about it— especially since Akito was now avoiding her like the plague while Touya was acting as if nothing happened whatsoever. Provoking Akito like that was an impulse she shouldn’t have acted on; not for her own safety but for his. And more importantly…

Well, none of Touya’s behavior made an ounce of sense. This past month, she simply assumed Touya liked her horrid excuse of a new policy, but that was not the case. In truth, he believed in her flimsy excuse of a city life just as much as she did; not at all. If he was going as far as to lie about it, it had to be for good reason, right? And she sincerely doubted it was for her sake; Touya never gave her preferential treatment, even if she admittedly would like that.

Either way, Touya was forcing himself against the outsider policy for some external motive, and he kept his mouth shut about it. Kohane didn’t like this. Even if Touya was well-read, he was horrible with planning on his own, so she felt an incessant urge to intervene. Whatever he was thinking would almost certainly land the four of them in trouble.

Kohane flipped open the empty notebook, decorating the edges of the first page with pastel, floral-patterned washi tape.

So, her friends simply had to die. Their existence at the factory violated the outsider policy, and she only allowed them to exist through her own selfishness. She always wanted to meet her friends so badly, especially Nene, and yet…

She grimaced, taping a photo she took of An, Akito and Touya on the page.

They all had sacrificed something.

Touya’s dad. An’s dad. Akito’s older sister.

It was Kohane’s turn, but she cheated; she ran away from her responsibility. Even if she didn’t want to kill her friends, it was necessary, it was the morally correct thing to do. And yet, Kohane didn’t want to stop being selfish; to stop violating the policy at all costs for her own gain.

But now, Kohane understood. Everyone else was suffering because of her half-hearted excuse. Things had escalated, and it was time for her to let go. She needed to kill those friends. She needed to prove herself to An, Akito and Touya. The four of them would be together forever, just as they always promised. Just the four of them and no one else.

Kohane affixed another photo onto the same page, this time of one of her and Akito’s artworks. He would have fun, she thought, if they did one of those with her friends. Maybe killing her friends would be less sad, in that case. Akito was fun to butcher with, after all.

On the next page she put a cute photo of a cheerful An wolfing down a whole pint of icecream. She made sure to include the secret photo she took of Touya in that scene too; a hand covering the soft smile gracing his face. Kohane lost track of time— taping and writing and dating all over pages, until a knock on her bedroom door made her jolt out of her seat. Before she could get to the door, her visitor barged in. 

“What’s up, Kohane?” An chirped, plopping down on Kohane’s bed. At least one of them was in a good mood, and she was grateful for that.

“Hi An-chan! I was just about to show you what I’ve been working on today…” Kohane smiled, folding the completed scrapbook closed and scooting her chair to face her. While she hadn’t expected An’s sudden arrival, she did intend on showing her partner it first, so…

“Ooh! Show me, show me!” She said, reaching her hands out for the scrapbook, barely hanging on to the edge of Kohane’s bed. Kohane promptly handed it to her, watching closely as An leaned back and flipped the first pages open with fervor, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“Do you think Akito-kun and Touya-kun will like it? I got into a bit of a conflict with them yesterday, so I thought they would like this…” Kohane trailed off, watching An’s joyful expression morph into something more… somber?

“Akito and Touya, huh…”

Did something happen with An yesterday too? Something about her tone gave Kohane a bad feeling. Kohane mirrored An’s frown, hoping to show sympathy.

“Hey, Kohane, can you keep a secret?”

“O— of course!” She responded, startled by An’s request.

An never kept secrets. Kohane knew this, and she was lucky that An was giving her the privilege of knowing. Otherwise, Kohane would pull it out of her, and An must’ve known this. Touya also knew this, but he thought he was smarter than her, which was his mistake.

An still hesitated though, tracing a finger around a photo of Akito without his muzzle. She shakily sighed before setting her hands in her lap, blinking away tears.

“I… I think I like Kamishiro-san. Like… romantically.” She mumbled, refusing to meet Kohane’s gaze. 

“What?” Kohane blurted out without thinking. An flinched at her tone and promptly started sobbing. “O— oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, An-chan—”

“What,” she hiccuped, “what should I do? He’s so cute, a— and—” 

For the other two, this would be quite a precarious situation. But Kohane wasn’t Akito or Touya. She placed a gentle hand on An’s shoulder, and spoke:

“It’s okay, An-chan. We don’t have to kill Kamishiro-san.”

“B— but…! Touya and Akito will…!”

“Are you forgetting about the policy change, An-chan? Touya-kun will be happy if those four are alive. Akito-kun will simply have to accept his partner’s decision.”

An wiped her eyes free of tears and held back her sniffles.

“Is that… is that true? Is it really okay, Kohane?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, An-chan. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

What a shame.

Kohane came upon the perfect excuse to spare her friends. It was okay to be selfish though, because An would be complicit in it with her. Yeah, that sounded like a good rationalization, even if it meant Akito would have to deal with her and Touya’s individual irresponsibilities. Lying to herself about this was fine. Running away was still on the table, and she’d push that as long as she could. After all, how could she take An’s crush away from her in good conscience? 

Despite Kohane’s expert reassurance, An didn’t look any happier. But it wasn’t like Kohane was happy either, even if she was relieved. If anything, Kohane hated how relieved she felt, above all else. Would she ever stop being so selfish and cowardly?

“I think Akito’s mad at me, too…” An said, suddenly. It wasn’t surprising to Kohane; she seemed awfully preoccupied with him today. “He’s been ignoring me all day, no matter how much I knock on his door and ask to come in.”

So Kohane did make him suicidal yesterday. Awesome. Why did she let her frustration get the best of her? It’s not like Akito’s selfishness was any different from hers!

“Let's go and apologize to him, then. It’ll be okay, An-chan.” Kohane said, gently taking An by her hand out of the room. Maybe the scrapbook would ease his self-loathing, not just his frustration with Kohane.

When Kohane knocked on the door and called out his name, there was no response, and when she turned the doorknob, it wouldn’t budge. Akito had locked the door.

Kohane rummaged through her pants pockets, hoping a stray paperclip would come to her— and luckily it did, so she didn’t have to grab one from her room. She unfurled it into a somewhat crooked line and poked it into the narrow keyhole of the doorknob. When the door flung open on its own, the two of them were met with the sight of Akito sitting up in his bed. He was not dead, but that was about what Kohane had expected.

Akito sighed, shooting the two of them a nasty glare. He didn’t really need to say anything to make his message any more obvious. ‘Go away’, his face said. It was whatever though, because Kohane kinda needed to do this.

“Akito-kun, please take a look at this.” She said, holding the scrapbook out to him. “I want to apologize for threatening you yesterday. I knew it would upset you, but I let my anger get the best of me. You didn’t deserve that.”

He nodded with a low hum, slowly taking the scrapbook from Kohane’s grasp. He made direct eye contact with An before opening it, which Kohane noticed made the latter awfully antsy.

“Heh,” Akito huffed in amusement, “it’s a good photo ya got here.”

She wasn’t surprised by the liking he took to that one. Blood and guts may have been his favorite things in the world.

“Hehe, well, I did make that section with you in mind, Akito-kun.” She clarified.

He ever-so-slightly smiled in response. That was a good sign, at least.

“I forgive ya. Besides, I was the one bitching at Touya, so…” 

Oh. Well that went smoother than she expected.

While Kohane was relieved by the easy resolution, his complete lack of acknowledgement towards An concerned her. Kohane assumed it was just An’s paranoia, but now she understood there was a logical basis for An’s concern. He never did this to An. Ever.

“Also, uhm… I think An-chan has something she wants to tell you, maybe…?” Kohane started, giving An the opportunity to speak.

“O— oh, er… A— Akito. Do you hate me?” An weakly asked. She seemed so uncharacteristically small, fragile— desperate for even an ounce of validation. 

“No.” He nonchalantly replied.

“Then why haven’t you been paying attention to me? I need you.”

“You’re the one being distant.”

“B— but…! But you had the door locked all day!”

Akito stopped responding. He laid his head back down on his pillow, facing away from her and pulling the comforter over himself. It was an indication that their conversation was over, but An was hopelessly stubborn. She climbed onto his bed, crawling over to him on her hands and knees, stopping when she was practically on top of him, face to face. He didn’t move an inch.

“An-chan, I think Akito-kun wants some space.” Kohane interrupted, noticing his clear disinterest. 

“Akito, I want a kiss.” An continued anyways. “Can I have a kiss?”

“No.” He mumbled.

“But you always give me kisses! You’d do any—”

“Get the fuck off of me!” He suddenly yelled, shoving her away. “You’re not stupid enough to not know what no means!”

“H— huh? A— Akito…” She winced, clutching her left shoulder in pain. He must’ve shoved her too hard— but either way, he was silent again.

Welp, Kohane tried to warn her. An promptly left Akito alone, and Kohane felt considerably less uncomfortable as a result. Witnessing that whole ordeal was preferable to that one time she saw them make out, at the very least.

They were back in Kohane’s room; together, because Kohane knew leaving An alone now would be impossible. But much to Kohane’s surprise, An did not sob; she was eerily quiet. An pulled Kohane into a hug, squeezing her tight enough to pop her organs out of her body like a can of instant biscuits, and Kohane understood. Or at least, she was certain she understood.

“It’s okay, An-chan. The four of us will be together forever.”

So much for showing Touya the scrapbook today.