Chapter Text

[ 2 ]

Part Of Your World

The title of this chapter is the reprise of the song lyrics below.

     ‘What would I give to live where you are?

What would I pay to stay here beside you?

What would I do to see you smiling at me?’

The Little Mermaid

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There’s something so… surreal about someone close to you dying. 

Death, as it was, did not discriminate. There would never be an individual who was immune to its ghostly grasp; mortality is both praised and dreaded. Its concept just felt… almost distant. The invincibility that came with being the survivor of the societally proclaimed ‘Card Killer’ had pushed any qualms from Niragi’s mind regarding their safety— death hadn’t touched them in the most dire of moments, so why had it on one insignificant day, of one insignificant month, in some insignificant year?

There’s stories in the news. There always is; the girl whose father committed suicide after paparazzi harrassment, the twins who’d lost their younger sibling in a home invasion. It was almost as if others couldn’t understand the concept of death. It’s coming for all of them, one way or another, though turning a blind eye is so fucking easy— push away what you could never understand. People will always push away the unimaginable.

Until the reality of death and everything else that comes along with it is thrust into your forcefully opened palms.

They say grief is like glitter. It gets everywhere, spreads when you try to clean it, lingers and glimmers in the light when you try to ignore it. It’s like a bad tattoo, always under the skin even when it gets removed.

But that’s just words. Words written by someone trying to comfort someone else on their loss when they can’t begin to comprehend what losing someone forever feels like. Niragi will never hear one of Chishiya’s witty retorts again. He will never make him his disgusting warm onion tea again. He will never be able to talk to him again. They will never age together.

Niragi will eventually forget what Chishiya sounds like, the uplift of his voice when he found something particularly annoying, the dryness of his tone when he was unimpressed. Niragi will eventually forget what Chishiya’s touch felt like, the way his lithe, methodical hands fit perfectly against his own. 

And that’s not something he believes he can go through. 

The worst of it, though, is that others say it’ll get easier. 

But what’s easy about knowing the person you planned to spend your whole life with, the only person who would tolerate you for such a period of time, had chosen to leave you? Chishiya knew better, Niragi knew he knew better— he doesn’t care for the ‘signs’ Ann outlined, he doesn’t care for Aguni’s resignation because he thinks he knows how it feels.

Hatter was different. Hatter was stupid and greedy. Chishiya is self preserving and calculating.

…Chishiya was self preserving and calculating.

And there is absolutely no way he would kill himself.

It’s why Niragi stood before a man with a face so similar to the one he’d loved so dearly; though, as Niragi had expected, he offered him little regard, lifting his pen upward with a professional glint to his eye as he signed the piece of paper below him. Niragi’s eyes narrowed at the lack of consideration— the lack of grief lingering over the man like a rain cloud. The lack of really anything, Niragi concluded as another minute passed, and the tapping of his foot against the office floor became slightly more incessant as he folded his arms over one another.

“You gonna say anything?” Niragi spat impulsively, cocking his head to the side— and, despite how he’d so desperately tried to, it was kind of hard to remain polite in front of a man you despise and that same man who’s just a dick. Chishiya had only died the day prior, and looking at the man before him, he acted as if his son hadn’t died at all.

“You were the one who entered my office.” Chishiya’s father— or, rather the original Chishiya— didn’t spare him a glance, his eyes fixated on the paperwork below him. “You can wait for me to finish with what I intended to do.”

Was he fucking serious? He couldn’t be serious.

“Your son is dead.” Niragi deadpanned, taking a step forward. The words were hard enough for Niragi to say, and he didn’t raise the bastard. “Not just dead. He found this world so hard to bear that he killed himself to escape it. Are you that ignorant?”

“It was inevitable.” The man said simply.

Don’t tell me he was going to have the philosophical argument of the concept of death with his late-boyfriend's father, who is a sadist. Holy absolute fuck. “Inevitable? Are you hearing yourself?” Niragi huffed, his eyes widening as he raked a hand through his hair. “You’re talking about him like he’s a statistic.”

“He is.” Chishiya’s father stated sternly, with that prissy, know-it-all tone all rich people seemed to embody, and for the first time since Niragi walked into his office, the man finally spared a glance upward at him. “Those who have self mutilating tendencies are twenty to fifty times more likely to die at the hand of suicide.” 

“Self— what?” Strangers. They must’ve been strangers living in the same house. “Are you hearing yourself? Did you even know your son?”

“Did you?” He shot back. “There was only one incident when he was ten. We got him out of that habit years ago.”

Incident. How could Chishiya have ever thought of himself to be remotely human if his parents always treated him like an experiment? If— if that did happen, an emphasis on that probability that Niragi will never find a trustworthy answer to, then that should’ve made the man before him all the more concerned and regretful. “You’re telling me you believe that he actually killed himself?”

“I don’t think Chishiya would’ve been beneath it.” The doctor said with a stiff shrug, his gaze dropping back to the paperwork beneath him and his pen also.

“And why is that?”

Chishiya’s father exhaled, the movement of his pen faltering slightly before he began. “He was always one of the weaker doctors in his ward. Too emotionally involved with the patients. He concerned himself with who should be prioritised over the wages he was earning. He was biased to those who he was treating.”

Emotionally involved? Chishiya wouldn’t have known what a true, authentic emotion was until it bit him in the ass. 

Regardless, there is no fucking way in Narnia that Chishiya revealed anything to do with this supposed ‘emotional involvement’--- fuck, the only thing he’d ever done that was spurred by emotion was making the deal with Kuzuryu, and, like Niragi expressed before, Chishiya’s father would’ve had no way of knowing that.

The man maintains eye contact for only a second more.

They say that the first stage of grief is denial. 

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The second stage of grief is anger.

And surprisingly enough, it doesn’t come from Niragi.

ar1zzu_ created a group

ar1zzu_ added 7 others

( ar1zzu_ ) : sorry guys, i kinda thought we may need a groupchat

Ann changed the groupchat’s name to ROCK, PAPER, KUINA+ANN

( ar1zzu_ ) : oh, really??

( Ann ) : Kuina will find it funny.

( ar1zzu_ ) : ooohh gotcha

( ar1zzu_ ) : anyways uhhh i was wondering if anyone here was keeping up with the news?

( imbetterthanyou ) : Fym why

( ar1zzu_ ) : its not really looking good

( tacarrz ) : no i’m scared :( 

( tacarrz ) : what is it

( ar1zzu_ ) : it’s about what happened earlier

( ar1zzu_ ) : idek how they got it out that fast

( ar1zzu_ ) : let me find the link hold up

( ar1zzu_ ) : okay here it is

If Arisu only started this group chat to stir up drama, or recreate the events of last year by drawing the public eye toward them impossibly more, then this time, Niragi will definitely beat the shit out of him. With an irritable huff as he screwed his eyes shut, Niragi threw himself back against the cushions of the sofa (understandably, he isn’t quite a big fan of the bedroom right now— he hasn’t moved the duvet since Chishiya did, leaving it strewn across the floor).

He does not expect to read that:

‘Heiya Akane, one of the nine Survivors of the Card Killer, presents herself as a violent figure as she acts in grief of Chishiya Shuntaro, one of the Survivors that committed suicide only yesterday.’

What the absolute fuck.

How— how was she a news headline? Not only was this out of character for Heiya, but she’d gotten to Shibuya only this morning. Niragi leaned forward swiftly, his forearms braced against his legs and his phone hanging between his knees as he squinted his eyes, muttering the words from the report aloud.

‘“I was super scared.” The victim of the attack reports. “She called me a bunch of rude things for no reason at all! All I wanted was a picture.”. However, some pedestrians support Heiya’s actions. “She’s a grieving young girl.” A bystander said. “She doesn’t need a camera in her face!”’

About fucking right.

Niragi almost finds it in himself to ignore the next message that lights his screen, too— he doesn’t even know how he’s feeling about that, but upon seeing it was Aguni that messaged, and remembering that Aguni was the one currently housing Heiya, he found himself rolling his eyes as he pressed on the notification,

Aguni Morizono

Did you check out the link?

Of course i did 

What the hell was she doing???

Are you free?

Why arent u answering my question

Heiya isn’t doing too well.

I think I may need you to talk to her.

The absolute fuck does that mean? Not doing so well? Does Aguni understand what weight those words hold after yesterday?

Niragi throws his coat on before he can think otherwise, typing a reply haphazardly with one hand as he attempts to put his shoe on with the other.

Fym not too well??

I can’t get her to calm down.

Im asking wtf happened for her not to be calm

What was that report??

When I picked her up yesterday, Heiya was understandably overwhelmed.

The public was overbearing and tried to take pictures.

I believe it’s due to the fact that they haven’t seen Heiya in Shibuya before. 

Not when our identities were leaked anyway.

It shouldn’t matter that they havent seen her

Where tf is their consideration???

Absent.

The front door closes roughly behind him with a thud.

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When Niragi does finally arrive at Aguni’s, he’s three things more than he had been before he left: one, fucking concerned, because Aguni doesn’t stop responding to your messages for nothing; two, out of breath, because despite the fact he had driven, Niragi had parked decently far away, leading him to frustratedly bound to the door instead; and three, slightly off topic, but he may’ve been hungry too.

Aguni leant against the doorframe, his brows pinched together as he cast a glance backward into the house. “She’s in the living room.” 

“What the hell is going on?” Niragi hissed, leaning toward Aguni slightly as he dropped his voice.

“She saw the report online.” Aguni explained through a whisper, casting a swift glance backward. “Her mother sent her a picture. Demanded to know stuff she didn’t need to.”

That’s fucking rich; richer than those prissy assholes anyway. Niragi’s face twisted into a scowl. “Since when did they care?”

“Only when it works against Heiya.” Aguni huffed, accompanying the comment with an eye roll as he pushed himself off the doorframe, a silent opening for Niragi to step forward and deal with whatever Aguni couldn’t

Which was a surprise on its own, by the way. Aguni was something akin to a natural mediator, and even better yet, Heiya was never the type to get riled up like Aguni claimed he was now. “‘Course.” Niragi responded, exhaling irritably as he took a few steps into the house. “I’ll be back.”

It didn’t take long to reach the living room; or, correction, it didn’t take Niragi’s ears long to latch onto the muttering and thuds of footstep trinkling from where, as he rounded the corner and caught sight of Heiya, she was pacing the floorboards. She didn’t seem to register Niragi’s presence at first, though as she swivelled on her heel, intended to continue with her pacing, her eyes drifted upward, catching on Niragi’s figure in the doorway.

“Oh, no.” Heiya’s face screwed into a frown, her hands falling to her cheeks. The last time the two had seen each other was the first time Niragi had willingly hugged her the day she was to move away. It’s almost astounding to see how much someone could change in such little time; it was like Heiya looked exactly the same, yet so fucking different all the more. She was older, that was for sure, though Niragi wasn’t sure if she actually physically looked it, or if piled trauma was the culprit. He’s guessing the latter. “Did he seriously bring you in here to calm me down?”

The fuck did he do? Exist? “I just walked in the room.” Niragi deadpan, fixing the girl with a displeased look as he took a few more steps into the living room.

“Why—” Heiya began to question, though she was quick to cut herself off with a high pitched squeak born from utter frustration. Niragi has known her for years, and not once has he seen Heiya act this way. “You can leave the room then. I don’t want you, I don’t know, looking at me like I’m stupid or something.” She snapped, jabbing her finger in the direction of the door.

Niragi cocked his head to the side, and despite his wavering patience (not like Chishiya’s death had brought him a reserve), Niragi found himself feeling strangely calm. “Who the hell said that?” He shot back, taking a seat on Aguni’s sofa and throwing either arm to rest against the back of it.

Heiya looked as if she hadn’t even noticed him do so. Instead, the girl continued to pace, looking downward at her feet. “No one, but everyone’s probably thinking it. It was stupid to move away, I was seventeen— I was old enough to say something; I legally don’t even have to stay with them anymore. And, I—” Heiya’s breath hitched, her head slowly turning in Niragi’s direction as her expression creased into a frown. “can you just go away? I know Aguni only called you here to be with me or something.”

“Nah.” Niragi shook his head from side to side, leaning back against the sofa as he watched her pace. “This is two years overdue.”

Her frown deepened as she paused momentarily, raking her eye up and down his frame. “So, you’re just gonna sit there?”

“You’re worked up and angry.” Niragi shrugged, all before he leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees as he met her eye. “So be angry then. Let it out.”

It was like Niragi’s words ignited something within the girl. She huffed irritably, her hands flying upward by her head, stalling for a second as if she were malfunctioning, and the next moment, red faced and frustrated, she roughly lowered her arms. “I can’t fucking believe that I missed out on two years with everyone. Do you know how— how horrible it was to get that call? The next time I thought we’d all be speaking to each other, we’d be at the diner or something catching up.” Heiya blabbered angrily, and whether she’d realised it or not, she began to pace again, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I had a plan, I was going to come down soon. I was just raking the money together, and then what, Chishiya dies? He kills himself? Why would he ever do something like that?”

Taking deep breath, one that was short lived from the way in which she scoffed afterward, Heiya continued. “And then I’m mad at everyone else around here. You’re telling me that there was nothing stopping any of you from just sitting down and having a conversation with him, but everyone collectively decided not to because you were all pissed at each other?” A strangled noise escaped her throat as she huffed. “Do you know how childish that sounds? I’m the youngest one here, and here I am wishing I had the opportunity all you idiots blew.”

“And, because of it all, we can’t even walk down the road without someone taking a picture of us.” Heiya gestured wildly around her. “They’re all giving us a reason to have stayed anonymous for so long— I can’t walk down the road and cry at my dead friend or I’ll be posted as the nutcase. They don’t know everything we went through together, and that all makes it so much harder to try and believe that Chishiya would do this.”

“You feel any better?” Niragi questioned knowingly, biting back the instinctual smugness to his tone (and concern) as he looked toward Heiya.

There was silence for a moment, the only sound being the erratic breathing of Heiya as she attempted to catch her breath, taking a seat beside Niragi and leaning backward against the sofa. “Yeah.” She said eventually, leaning the side of her head against the plush pillows decorating the sofa as she glanced over at Niragi. “How’d you know?”

“I know a thing or two about being angry.” Was all he found himself saying. Niragi felt as if it were pretty self explanatory. 

With a huff, the girl rolled her eyes, the action holding not even a fraction of the spite she previously wielded. “‘Course you do.” All that time, Heiya hadn’t needed to be calmed down as if what she was feeling was irrational; she just needed to express herself and get it out. "Look, don’t let this get to your head, but you’re my best friend, ‘kay? And, this means a lot. I haven’t made any friends since I moved. So thanks.”

“Shut the hell up.” Niragi shoved her shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

The girl’s brows pulled together. “Don’t tell me— wait, that actually kinda sounded nice?” Heiya paused for a moment, considering Niragi’s words as her eyes drifted toward the ceiling in contemplation, though not before Niragi reached forward with an outstretched arm, placing a hand over the top of her head to roughly ruffle her hair. “What— really? Do you know how long it took to— ugh.” Heiya groaned, her hands flying upward to pat down and smooth out her hair.

Bringing a hand upward, Niragi mimicked a speaking motion. “Blah, blah.” He mocked.

The act drew a small laugh from her lips as she fondly rolled her eyes, though the next moment, her shoulders drooped downward slightly, and when she next opened her eyes, Heiya looked toward Niragi with a much more serious glint in her eye. “Hey, Niragi?”

Well, that didn’t sound good. Niragi might as well brace himself for the attack of a heartfelt conversation now before he’s left unprepared. “What?”

“How are you… feeling?” She said after a moment of hesitation, all before she pushed her hands out in front of herself. “And before you tell me to stop, no. I know you guys were close, you were together, right?”

Niragi looked upward toward the ceiling, an act that probably looked as if he were trying to recall something. In all actuality, Niragi was debating how much vulnerability would cost in this situation, and considering the tantrum Heiya threw not even five minutes ago, Niragi concluded it wouldn’t be much. “Since New Year’s last year.” Niragi admitted with faux indifference.

Heiya could see through the act as clear as day. Indifference was Chishiya’s thing, and despite himself, Niragi was never capable of being nonchalant. “What, like on the day?” Heiya questioned, leaning forward and closer toward him on the sofa.

“‘T was a dumb cliche, I didn’t even think he had it in him.”

“Wait, Chishiya asked you?”

The memory forces a burst of nostalgic laughter to fall from Niragi’s lips as he shakes his head. It was so stupid. “Fuck yeah he did, and we told everyone else I did because we thought they’d think it was a prank if they found out. Not that we cared if nobody believed us.” It being stupid was why it was a good memory.

“That’s… disgustingly romantic.” Heiya said after a moment of consideration, bobbing her head from side to side as if she were trying to envision it, which probably resulted in the mild disgust that erupted over her face. “Ew, oh my God, you telling me that with that sappy look on your face was like hearing your grandparents bang.”

“Seriously?” Niragi shot around to face her, a trace of a smile on his lips as he pushed a hand against her shoulder, slightly rougher than before. “Fuck you.” He cursed, cursing more when Heiya had it in herself to giggle.

Something about the way in which Heiya wasn’t afraid to be unapologetically herself (in other words, crude) when talking about topics others have treated Niragi so fragile doing was so fucking relieving. He wasn’t delicate— and despite the fact that, more often than not, he felt as if he were a dam waiting to burst, there was nothing he appreciated more than being treated like himself.

It was nice not to be pitied when you needed to be.

He doesn’t tell Heiya that he missed her, though despite the fact he knows she did, Heiya does not say so either.

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The third stage of grief is bargaining.

The textbook definition of the word bargaining is the discussions that take place between people in order to reach an agreement on something such as prices, wages, working conditions, or more. There have been several times in Arisu’s life where he’d been reduced to the state of bargaining: bargaining to not get kicked out of his childhood home, bargaining with Chishiya when he’d first gotten the marks. And, other times, the act of bargaining felt almost uplifting—  Arisu had never felt more accomplished than he had when he sat down opposite his landlord, a dorky grin on his face and Aguni’s advisatory words circled throughout his mind, and the knowledge that, regardless on his their current conversation regarding rent would go, Arisu had bargained his way into his own home.

In terms of grief, bargaining is referred to as a psychological defense mechanism where a person attempts to negotiate, make deals, or replay past events to postpone, undo, or lessen the pain of a profound loss.

The situation Arisu finds himself in wasn’t one that was unfamiliar to him in the slightest; strewn upward on his wall, and barely being held together by a few layers of tape, were each and every idea Arisu has had since exactly a month ago. He screws his face into a frown, his eyes narrowing as they flicker across a multitude of undecipherable words, or words that didn’t quite make sense stand alone. To recap all of this, he’d have to go further back, look at the point in which he’d first gotten that idea and work onward. 

There must be something here that ties back to Chishiya.

Maybe the mark gave Arisu a clue and he missed it. He missed a lot of the signs at first when they’d first started getting familiar with the marks— Arisu knows he had that board of vulnerable cities a little after Chishiya was hospitalised after the King of Spades game, but as of yet, at least from what he’s seen, there hadn’t been anything suspicious.

With an impatient exhale, Arisu reached downward, his fingers brushing against the glass of water he’d set out for himself, and securing his grasp over it, Arisu reached upward, bringing the glass against his lips and tipping his head backward. He pulled the glass away from his lips the following second, his face wrinkling in disgust at the sheer salt content in that glass— had he not washed that out properly?

Arisu discarded the glass back onto the side table with little thought, reaching his hand upward to brush against his chin.

Focus. Focus, Arisu. There must be something.

He’d recently been working on storylines that had to do with real life concepts for a few movie directors. While that wasn’t over the course of the month, it was somewhere to start.

The first idea he’d created (and later scrapped) surrounded the idea of the seven deadly sins. The directors had called it a cliche, something to develop more at a later date, and Arisu nodded his head and enthusiastically agreed with them. The plot had surrounding those that were desperate making deals they couldn’t refuse, though each character was to be based off a seven deadly sin, and they would meet the person who they couldn’t refuse the deal of in the exact same place.

No— it wasn’t that, Arisu wasn’t getting anything from that idea. It’s— it’s okay though, it’s okay, because there’s more.

Two siblings in the 1970s who sold their souls and the lives of those in their bloodline for eternal fame and riches, but only until the person who sold them the deal comes back and reclaims their lives and the lives of their children and grandchildren?

No— too morbid. There couldn’t be anything there anyways. It was nothing more than a bad idea.

A woman who has to relive her birthday on repeat in a continuous time loop to discover who it was that murdered her because she’d made a drunken claim that she could solve any mystery, luring her into making a deal?

Why did all of his ideas surround making deals you can’t refuse? What was this horrible irony?

Arisu took a step backward, a groan falling from his lips as he screwed his eyes tightly shut. He was getting absolutely nowhere with this at all, this was supposed to be for Chishiya— to, he doesn’t know, honour him or something, or maybe try prove to himself that it was a suicide. Arisu took another step backward, though nothing could’ve prepared him for the way in which he stumbled slightly, losing his footing and, a moment later, cascading to the ground, bracing his hands against his coffee table to soften his fall.

The dull clink sound, glass against glass, resonates through Arisu’s ears a moment later, his eyes flying open panickedly as they shoot over toward the glass he’d previously set aside, now laying on it’s side, the water pooling over every single paper Arisu had haphazardly thrown onto the table.

“No, no!” He gasped, his hands latching onto the first wet, soggy piece of paper he could, watching as it practically disintegrated in his hands. “Come on!”

This is what he gets for trying to be helpful, and maybe find something out, that could give the others some closure. This. 

Every single one of Arisu’s ideas, all of them for the past month, that he’d delicately put away each time he’d jotted down, gone. Out the window— just, non-existent. With a hand clutching at his head, tears threatening to swarm his vision, Arisu reached out, placing his hand against the table with a shuddering breath— only his gaze fell onto one piece of paper in particular. Unlike the others, where the writing was barely legible, creating a muddle of ink and deteriorating paper, toward the top left of this particular page (that wasn’t any drier than the rest) the words ‘Overgrown Akiya Fields of Komagome’ were scrawled.

That should be impossible, none of Arisu’s notes should be legible, he—

It should be impossible.

Arisu takes a swift stand, holding the soaked paper in front of him with delicacy, taking a few hasty steps over toward the wall he’d previously been ogling at, his eyes flickering from the paper within his grasp to the ones adorned on the wall, and that’s where he saw it.

Everywhere he looked, every paper his eyes drifted over, it was that same location. In the seven deadly sins idea, the victims met the dealer in Overgrown Akiya Fields of Komagome every time without fail. The story of the siblings and their prosperous life is told by the main character following the death of all of his children, who retells the events leading to their deaths to his business rival in Overgrown Akiya Fields of Komagome. In the first loop, the woman met the person who lured her into making the deal in Overgrown Akiya Fields of Komagome, who later directed her to a bar for the two to get familiar with one another.

It was all there— it was there. Arisu had never heard of those fields in his life— he doesn’t even remember writing its name.

And if he didn’t intentionally write it, there’s only one place it could’ve come from.

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The fourth stage of grief is depression.

Tatta’s not the first person to notice that Kuina isn’t doing so well.

He doesn’t understand how it feels, he wasn’t the one to find Chishiya and to be the last one he ever spoke to, but Tatta gets Kuina, if that makes any sense. Tatta’s finding it so hard to comprehend Chishiya’s death, he couldn’t imagine how it felt for Kuina and Niragi; they were the people closest to him, after all.

So, the day after Chishiya… died, Tatta took it upon himself to go to his local supermarket, buy a bundle of her favourite lollipops, and pick a yellow daffodil on his way to Kuina’s house. He figured she’d at the very least need some company, Tatta knows he does, and it’s that thought exactly that leads him to be standing outside of her house door. 

The last time he’d stood in front of someone’s house, Tatta was forced to tell someone he hadn’t spoken to in a year that their mutual friend died. Despite himself, Tatta shudders at the thought, his throat already beginning to burn as he tipped his head backward, willing himself to keep his tears at bay— for Kuina.

This was for Kuina.

With a measured exhale, Tatta shook his head from side to side, bending down momentarily to retrieve the spare keys from under the welcome mat (which Tatta has thought was strange for Kuina to put there many times considering someone could break in, but upon second thought, Kuina seemed pretty capable of taking care of herself).

Silently, Tatta crept through Kuina’s living room, swivelling on his heel as he slowly began to advance to her room. While lovely, Kuina’s house wasn’t necessarily large, and when he finally reached her bedroom, Tatta’s stomach twisted in a weird sort of dread upon realising the door was slightly ajar, the thought of is that what Kuina had felt before she found Chishiya plaguing his mind as, with a hand securely holding the gifts he’d gotten her, he reached the other out shakily, pushing against the door.

The creaking of the door indicated to Kuina that Tatta had arrived, and if it hadn’t, Tatta’s instinctive whisper of ‘sorry’ had. From what Tatta could see, she lay curled in a heap of blankets and pillows, her duvet pulled up to her chin and her hair splayed out on the cushion beneath her. “I’ll get up in a bit.” Kuina murmured into her pillow without looking his way, her voice cracking slightly as she curled inward on herself more.

Tatta nodded, he supposed more to himself rather than anything, judging by the way in which she hadn’t turned to face him. “Where’s Ann?” Tatta asked gently, placing the gifts he’d collected on her drawer, before he began to take a few steps over toward her bed.

“Working.” She said with a sniffle. That sniffle turned into watery eyes, the watery eyes turning into a singular tear dripping down her face, and the next thing Tatta knew, Kuina was crying— a different type of cry to which he’d seen yesterday, which had been almost more like a wail considering the volume. This time, Kuina made little sound as she covered her face with the duvet, though from what he could see as he moved toward her, sitting on the edge of the bed as he leant forward, her shoulders shook with her sobs. “Why didn’t he talk to me? He knows I would’ve listened to anything he said.” Kuina cried from under the blankets, her words barely audible.

“I’m sorry Kuina.” Tatta said solemnly, his hands fidgeting uselessly in his lap as he glanced downward. So much for being a good comfort.

It was those words that had Kuina lifting the blanket from off over her head, shaking her head side to side as, for the first time since he’d entered the room, she met his eye, hers equally as red-rimmed and puffy as they had been the day before— if not more. “Don’t be sorry.” Kuina said kindly, despite the croakiness of her voice and the downturn of her lips that seemed permanent— she was just so different to the Kuina two days ago that it was difficult to believe they were the same person. “I just— I…” She stuttered, a few more tears slipping from her eye as something in her expression shifted. “I really need you to believe me, Tatta, there’s something wrong with what happened.”

“Kuina…” Tatta trailed off, glancing to the side as his eyes stung with unshed tears. This was really hard— it wasn’t that Tatta didn’t believe Kuina. He would believe anything she told him, because she was one of his bestest friends, and she was nothing but a good person.

But… Kuina wasn’t okay right now, and she wouldn’t be okay for a while— none of them would be.

Her eyes widened as she sat up slightly, tears coursing down her face as she looked toward him desperately. “Tatta. Please.” Kuina pleaded, her chest rising and falling measuredly as her eyes flickered between Tatta’s.

“I don’t know, Kuina.” Tatta murmured under his breath, blinking a few times before turning his head to the side, pulling his cap slightly downward as, despite what he had enforced to himself before, salty tears began to trickle down his cheeks. “But… I’m here.” He said with certainty, turning back to meet her eye. That was something that would always stay truthful.

It was enough for Kuina to crack a smile, however small it was. It was exactly what Tatta had gone there to do. “Thank you.”

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The fifth stage of grief is acceptance.

Autopsies for unsuspicious suicides, or any suicides for that matter, typically occur within the early morning the day after. Though, upon second thought, Ann supposes she was incorrect; there is no such thing as an unsuspicious suicide. Until proven otherwise, a mandatory investigation takes place to ensure that there was no third party instigation.

The wounds littered across Chishiya’s arms, the light indents in his fingers from where he’d grasped the blade too hard, the bruise decorating his shin from where he’d presumably fallen off the bed, all of it seemed to suggest that the only perpetrator was Chishiya himself.

“You see anything strange?” Her co-worker called out from beside her, glancing over Ann’s shoulder nosily.

As of yet, from a professional standpoint, Chishiya’s death seemed to be completely and utterly mundane. Ann wasn’t usually sentimental, and her ability to micromanage her emotions and expressions have been referred to as uncanny a multitude of times throughout her private life and worklife. But, as she stared downward at Chishiya’s body, his face void of anything that used to give it life, Ann finds that grief is a very, very weird thing.

Both she and Aguni had been the only two who, not only had accepted the situation, but realised it for what it was. Logically, Ann understood why the others weren’t grasping the situation. She’d sat down with the other man a few hours after they’d discovered that they were the only two to have accepted the reality of the situation, thus, as Aguni had stated, granting them a sort of responsibility amongst the others.

Ann wasn’t much older than the others by much, but she nodded her head knowingly when Aguni stated that it was going to be a difficult journey. All they had was each other, and that Ann understood.

It’s harder to believe that when Chishiya’s laying before you and you’re supposed to treat this day like any other.

Ann’s worked with bodies for— she’s more familiar with the typical dead body than an alive one, and it’s for that reason that she instructs her co-worker to help maneuver Chishiya, and despite how invasive the movement felt, they managed to lay him on his stomach. 

“You found the cause of death, right?” The man quirked a brow, his eyes drifting over toward Ann. “What’re you checking for?”

It was truly nothing in particular. Ann just— there’s something within her that doesn’t want to believe that Chishiya really did this either. It’s unprofessional, it’s stupid, but she can’t help the way her eyes narrow on Chishiya, her thoughts racing in ways her thoughts don’t normally, though, the whirling of Ann’s mind seems to cease momentarily as her eyes latch onto something peculiar.

Her brows draw together as she takes a step closer to Chishiya lifting a gloved hand to slowly push back the blonde strands of hair brushing against his shoulders.

And there, something Ann had never seen on Chishiya nor heard existed, branded on the back of his neck in precise, bold letters;

Burdened by The World.

⋆｡’    ⸸𖠚⛤⚚    ‘｡⋆

The first stage of grief, denial, always seems to circle back.

Niragi stands outside on his (their) porch, leaning his weight against the doorframe of his front door as he folded his arms over one another. The rain pattered against the pavement in a million uneven rhythms, the water running along gutters as if the raindrops were on a mission, and distantly, Niragi thought to himself that maybe that was the first sign that there was something indefinitely wrong.

“Why are you here?” Niragi frowned at the woman standing before him, narrowing his eyes at her, and outright glaring at the file held securely in her hands. “If you’re gonna tell me some bullshit or try to hook me up with a grief councellor, turn on your heel and fuck yourself.”

“Actually, no.” Ann quirked a brow. Why the hell was she here at, what time was it? Late enough for it to be dark outside and Niragi to be in bed. “May I come in? I think there’s something you may want to hear.”

Niragi’s not given an opportunity to respond to the woman before him (which, if he were to take it into consideration, maybe it was a sort of sign to ward her off) as the crunching of asphalt under wheels draws their attention. As Ann tilted her head backward, Niragi leaning to the side to get a better look, they watched as a car parked adjacent to where Ann had parked hers, and tumbling out of the driver's seat and instantaneously soaking himself was no one other than Arisu.

“Niragi!” Arisu called out into the night, the other’s decorum non-existent considering the fact that he was in a neighbourhood of people who were undoubtedly trying to sleep. Though, any berating words that would’ve formed on Niragi’s tongue fell short as he caught sight of the already soaked piece of paper in Arisu’s outstretched arm, and as if he thought Niragi couldn’t already see it despite the fact his arm was sticking upward in the air like a virgin in a stripclub, Arisu then proceeded to violently wave it from side to side “I think— oh?” Arisu paused, his words drawing to a halt as he looked over toward them, clearly just as confused with Ann’s presence as she was with his and Niragi was with both of theirs.

“Kitchen.” Niragi snapped, wiping a hand down his face as he took a step backward into the house. The fuck are these dimwits going to drag him into now? “Now. Hurry the hell up.”

⋆｡’    ⸸𖠚⛤⚚    ‘｡⋆

Arisu glanced between them, his hands braced against the island in Chishiya’s kitchen. His shoulders hiked upward toward his ears as he sighed, glancing downward at the soggy piece of paper between his hands. “Look…” Arisu started, clearing his throat as he hesitated. “I really don’t think this was a suicide.”

“Nor do I.” Ann was quick to respond, nodding her head along with Arisu’s words. 

“I haven’t from the beginning.” Niragi stated, clicking his tongue and catching his piercing in his teeth, rolling the metal between his lips before he continued. “But what I’m wondering is why you’ve both come to that conclusion when you were hellbent on the fact that he did.”

“I—“

“B—“

Arisu blinked, gesturing to Ann with an awkward, open hand. “Oh, uh, you go first.”

Drawing her eyes away from Arisu, she did just that. “I performed his autopsy the day after his death.” Ann noted, lowering the file she’d brought with her onto the table and opening it, shuffling through the papers within in all the while successfully shielding it from Niragi and Arisu— and if it was something Ann was deliberately hiding, by all means, Niragi did not want to know. “On paper, everything looked how you would expect it; the cause of death matched with the scene, the bruise on his shin painting the scene that he’d fallen out of bed—“

“I don’t need a step by step explanation of how my boyfriend’s suicide was ‘legitimate’,” Niragi snapped, his hands rising to form quotation marks. Clearly, if they were standing here conspiring in Chishiya’s kitchen, none of them thought his death was legitimate. Fucking Christ. “get to the point.”

Pulling a specific piece of paper from her pile, Ann’s eyes flickered between the two. “When performing the autopsy, on the back of his neck, I found this tattoo.” She said, all before placing a picture down onto the counter and pushing it toward the centre. Niragi hadn’t seen what Chishiya looked like, during the event or after, and at the very least, he’s glad that Ann had the decency to not come bounding into the house where Chishiya had killed himself to show Niragi photos of the fatal wounds.

What she did show was a zoomed in photo of what Niragi believes to be the back of Chishiya’s neck, though Niragi finds himself doing a double take, a curse falling from his lips as he narrowed his eyes on the unfamiliar words branding his skin.

“Burdened by The World?” Arisu read, leaning his face toward the photo to read it better. It… kind of gave Niragi the urge to slap him at his lack of respect, but upon second thought, maybe Niragi was still a little emotional, or whatever the fuck Aguni would label it as. “What… does that mean?”

“It sounds as if someone with a warped view of the world decided to get themselves a tattoo.” She said, her hand lingering on the photo as she tilted her head to the side. “But when is a tattoo ever a tattoo?”

“Chishiya didn’t like ink.” And that was something he was sure of. One hundred-fucking-percent. “Never spoke about a tattoo before the marks, and the only time he did after is when he told me he’d never get one.” Niragi shrugged roughly, his head bobbing along with his words. 

“Do you think it’s something like the marks again?”

“I’m not sure.” Ann shrugged slightly at Arisu’s question. “I know Kuina is suspicious too, but until we discover something certain, I don’t think it’s best to let her know. Or the others.” He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Ann say something so correct and controversial. 

“Hey,” Niragi perked upward, his face twisting in thought as he leant his side against the counter. “on the odd chance it was ink, and maybe a message for us,” He clicked his fingers. “remember that freak tattoo artist?”

“Samura?” Arisu inquired.

Hate his guts Niragi did. Though, that never deterred Chishiya. “Worth a visit.” Niragi grumbled, despite the fact that it was both his idea and his plan.

“There’s also somewhere else.” Arisu piqued up, playing with the edge of the paper he’d brought with him. “I was, you know— I had my suspicions, I don’t know if I was just looking for something to be true, but…” He hesitated, his mouth falling open but his words short for a moment. “I think it was the mark.”

“The fuck? I haven’t felt that—“

“In years, I know.” Arisu continued, nodding enthusiastically.

“Don’t interrupt me.” Niragi shot back, fixing Arisu with a warning glare.

“Sorry.” Arisu said sheepishly, and with that, he reached toward the waterlogged piece of paper beneath him, dragging it toward the centre of the island as Ann took the picture she’d shown them to place it back into its rightful folder. “What I was trying to say is that, everywhere I looked, every single one of my ideas ended up linking to this.”

And, it was… nothing. There was absolutely nothing on the piece of paper Arisu, Niragi daresay excitedly, thrust into the centre of the table. “There’s nothing on here, you dunce.” Niragi hissed, shooting Arisu a glare— was he seriously just trying to dick around here?

“What— what do you mean?” Arisu blinked a few times, confusion riddling his features as he leant forward, muttering to himself as his eyes skimmed over whatever the hell he thought he saw on the paper, all before he turned to the woman on his left.“Can you not read that? Ann?”

“There’s nothing there.” Ann confirmed with a swift glance downward.

“It is the marks.” Arisu gasped, a light smile spreading on his face, and a hopefulness in his eyes, as he pointed toward the paper. “Look, right here, I can read it; Overgrown Akiya Fields of Komagome.”

“That’s in the middle of nowhere.” Ann noted with a raised brow.

“And you’re saying this links to Chishiya?” Why the hell did Chishiya have business in that place? Well, upon second thought, Chishiya’s name was ‘I-push-my-nose-into-business-that-doesn’t-concern-me’, so fuck, maybe it is linked.

“I don’t know, but Niragi,” Arisu leant forward slightly, pausing momentarily as his eyes flickered down to his marked arm, all before his gaze fell back onto Niragi. “I feel the mark. It’s not the same as before, this is something different. I think it’s worth checking out, I don’t know.”

The last time they waited too long to intervene, it ended up in more people than necessary getting involved, and a whole lot of death. They’ve already lost one of them, and Niragi certainly does not want to lose anyone else to something so simple to conquer, and so he found himself blurting the words: “Then let’s go.” with a docile (as docile as he could get) shrug, pushing himself off from the counter.

Arisu blinked in shock, his eyes flickering over to the clock. “Now?”

“Yes, now, you idiot.” Niragi rolled his eyes at the other’s behaviour, and instead, he turned to face Ann. It didn’t matter if these assholes weren’t going to come with him; Niragi can and will go himself. “Ann?”

Thankfully, Ann’s intelligence was in one piece. “Sounds good.” She nodded curtly.

A smirk pulled at Niragi’s lips as he took a few steps to the side, swiping the car keys from the counter as the reassurance I knew I wasn’t fucking crazy circled his mind. “My car. I’m driving.”

Because, Niragi was not crazy.

And Chishiya did not kill himself.

⋆｡’    ⸸𖠚⛤⚚    ‘｡⋆

‘I don’t know when,

I don’t know how.

But I know something’s starting right now.’

The Little Mermaid