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She doesn’t know how they got here.
She doesn’t know what choices have led her here.
What she does know, however, is that there’s totally blood in her hair, dripping onto her shirt— the third one this week, she’ll have to go shopping soon— and there’s a knife in her hand, and she doesn’t regret a single thing.
“Were they alone?” Tadashi asks, fidgeting anxiously and glancing around. “They might have tripped an alarm…”
“You’re right,” Hitoka agrees, sliding the knife back into her boot. “We should get out of here.”
Tobio lets out a vague noise of complaint, staring at his nails. “Asshole chipped it. You’ll have to redo these later, Hitoka.”
“Later,” Hitoka promises, “Right now, we need to run.”
“Right,” Tobio agrees, stalking swiftly to his motorcycle and throwing a leg over it. Hitoka hops on next, wrapping her arms around his strong chest, and she feels Tadashi slide on behind her, his own arms looping around her waist.
“Ready?” Tobio asks, starting the engine.
“Always,” Hitoka murmurs, leaning into him.
And they run.
-
They don’t stop for hours, both Tadashi and Hitoka urging Tobio on with every passing patrol car, every wail of a siren, urging him to keep riding until they’re safe.
They don’t stop until they’re far outside of the city.
They don’t stop until everything still around them. The streetlight on the highway fizzle and spark, the stars are clear in the sky, and they haven’t seen anyone else for miles.
They stop at the side of the road, pulled off at random, and climb off the motorcycle. Hitoka immediately flops down on the ground, Tadashi right behind her and Tobio trailing a bit behind, his hand not leaving his gun.
“It’s okay, Tobio,” Tadashi reassures, “They’re not going to find us out here. Come on, lie with us.”
Tobio scowls slightly, but no one can say no to Tadashi, and Tobio lies down awkwardly, sandwiching Hitoka between the two. Tadashi nuzzles into her shoulder, and she looks up, gazing at stars and constellations and the peace of night.
“Where will we go?” Hitoka voices anxiously.
“We’ll go where we always go,” Tobio tells, his voice firm and blunt as always. “Wherever we need to.”
“Are we bad people?” Tadashi asks.
Hitoka smiles despite everything. “Absolutely. But so are they.”
“Life’s not fun if you can’t be bad sometimes,” Tobio adds.
“I guess…” Tadashi trails off. “I just miss the way things used to be. When we didn’t have to run.”
“I miss it, too,” Hitoka says, still staring at the sky. She reaches for both of their hands, lacing their fingers together loosely. “But this isn’t so bad either. We’re doing what we want to, and we’re together.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” Tadashi admits softly. “Thanks, Hitoka.”
“Haven’t you learned by now?” Tobio asks, a rare hint of mischief in his voice. “Hitoka’s always right.”
They’re pulled from their musings by the distant sound of an engine, and Tadashi groans.
“Already?” he whines, “I wanted to wait and kill them tomorrow.”
“Unfortunate,” Tobio deadpans, climbing to his feet and helping both Hitoka and Tadashi up. “Looks like we’re gonna rack up a decent body count today.”
Tobio draws his gun, cold metal and reliable steel, and Hitoka trades her anxiety for the wicked confidence of her knife. Tadashi adopts a combat stance, and Hitoka’s glad that he didn’t unwrap his hands after the last fight.
Side by side, three murderers wait, preparing for their next fight.
They’re ready to play.