Chapter Text
week one： day one。
He counts off what he knows for certain as he drifts through the concrete jungle.
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This is Shibuya, Scramble Crossing. He’s been here before. How the hell he knows this is a mystery.
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Hyakuya. That’s his family name. Gotta be. It surfaces to mind as soon as he comes to, like this is a the one truth he cannot afford to lose.
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He’s about to commit a crime for capital murder, because of some guy that cannot take a hint and quit following him around already, damn it.
He figures this out in six minutes and forty-two seconds. (The exact time down to the secondーthe timer ingrained into his palm is informative and hurts like a bitch.)
What’s it for, anyway? Other than creeping him out. The Guy he’d ditched near Hachikō said something about a game, a pact between them, and some other bullshit.
Definitely high, that Guy.
Game? Pact?
The hell was he on?
He shoves his hands into his pockets, tossing his head here and there to pick out his surroundings. The heart of the city beats on, throbs to life with throngs upon throngs of moving flesh that weave through Shibuya. Noisy. Suffocating. And yet? Hyakuya feels like the only man on this blue rock. Invisible. Alone.
He remains unnoticed, walks the streets like a ghost. Haunting like the dead.
Am I dead? It's supposed to be a joke.
But his heart swells to a panic. He sweats suddenly.
Panic. Why is he panicking? It's supposed to be a ridiculous thought, a flight of fancy, a stupid joke. Isn't it?
Panic. It holds him hostage, feet rooted in place. Chest quivering, he punches his hand to it, fingers clawing at his chest to vainly tear away the Panic.
Panic interrupted when a shout cries out through the noise, stretches to pull him from his sinking despair like a savior:
“Hyakuya! There you are. I’ve been looking for you...”
Saved from the throes of his despair by the very person he’s been trying to avoid. The Guy... What was his name? Yoichi Saotome.
He celebrates his luck and misfortune with a relieved gasp and hiss.
“...Fuck.”
week one： day two。
Today’s mission: Same old. Defeat those creatures in the allotted time. What did Yoichi call them? Noise?
Yeah, screw that.
Hyakuya’s mission: Find a way out. Just like the day before. Simple as that.
Partners, pacts, whatever the hell it’s called? No. He's not falling for that.
Creatures creep close, harass them from every which way: And every time, Hyakuya runs. Runs from them, runs from Yoichi Saotome.
But Yoichi is never too far away, always catches up. Follows him like a lost puppy. Whimpers like one, too.
“Um...”
No, a kitten. He’s definitely a lot like a kitten. Mewling like that.
Hyakuya shudders at where his thoughts have derailed. Stops it there as he throws a glare over his shoulder at the other.
“Spit it out.”
Snapped with venom through gnashed teeth. A meek little jump is his only response.
Hyakuya gives up and merely keeps walking. Walking where? In circles, of course. Circles and circles until he’s positive he’s getting nowhere. (Because, yeah, like that's going to solve anything, whispers the saner part of him.)
That doesn’t stop him from doing these meaningless wander-abouts through Shibuya, from the Underpass to the Crossing and to the Park. He just walks, aimlessly. Lost.
And loyally Yoichi follows, like he's doing now.
“Is there a reason why you’re always leaving me? You did this on the first day, and... You’ll get killed without me, you know. Yesterday was only luck that we didn’t complete the mission on time. Some others must have. But what ifー”
“Shut up.” Snapped with even more venom; it kills. “I'll do whatever I want.”
The guy squeaks a reply to that, but from five strides away Hyakuya can’t hear the details. He'd rather not waste away with some punk who ninety-five percent of the time has his nose buried in his phone, the other five percent spent twiddling his thumbs. Clumsy little shit has better luck running into walls than actually being any value on the field.
No. Not today. Not ever.
week one：day three。
"Yoichi!"
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Huffing, panting, fighting the Noise that stretches and rips at his body. He doesn't care, because he's just fighting. Fighting for the motionless body crumpled on the ground. So, so farーhe keeps fighting, fighting, fighting.
Why did it have to come to this? Why did he do... that? Hyakuya could have taken the hit himself! Yoichi could have saved himself, damn idiot, and nowー!
Noise close in around Yoichi's fallen body. The blood in his veins boil.
"Damn it, get away from him!"
A roar, fingers stretching, clawing, bursting through the circle of Noise. To Yoichi: his partner, his savior. He owes him. Owes him at least this much.
He’ll save Yoichi; as Yoichi saved him.
week one：day four。
Turns out, he’s a pro at this kicking-Noise-ass thing. A natural. Yoichi’s words. Not exactly. Less crudely said, but same idea.
“You think so?” Hyakuya huffs at the end of one of Yoichi's explosive compliments. Turns his face, cleverly hides the blush rising to his cheeks and scratching at the back of his skull. “I dunno... It’s nothing, really.”
This worrying: why he’s suddenly acting like a shy schoolgirl is sort of freaking him out. This is Yoichi after all. He should be acting naturally: And yet, the natural part of him says that he’s not used to being complimented like this at all.
“I’m serious, Hyakuya!” Yoichi gushes, his green eyes so wide and full of energy, life. “I mean. At least you’re a lot better at this than I am.” And, woah, does the atmosphere do a complete one-eighty after that, so quickly that Hyakuya has to do a double-take as Yoichi withdraws within himself. Meek again, smiling shyly and pointedly avoiding Hyakuya’s eye. Hyakuya privately decides he much prefers the Yoichi from just a moment ago. Bursting and full of life. Insistent, though gentle with his enthusiasm. “I’m just support. Back up. I can only do long-range attacks.”
“Bull. C’mon, give yourself some cred. You’re a whiz at this, Yoichi. I’m just following your lead.”
Yoichi nods at that, still unconvinced, still avoiding eye contact. Lips part, and a murmurーhesitant, unsureーslips delicately into the air, hovers between them amidst the human noise of Shibuya: “...You truly trust me?”
“Yeah,” Hyakuya sighs. “I really do.”
Honestly, he’s no good with this whole comforting thing, but he knows he’s right. Yoichi is far more knowledgeable about this Game than himself. Hell, where would he be without Yoichi? The important material and mechanics of this twisted Game would have remained a mystery without his help.
(“Phones can't get calls coming in, and you can’t make any going out. We only get messages with the mission of the day.”
“Did you know you can read people’s thoughts? Ah, no, I’m serious! I heard it’s called... oh, 'scanning.'”
“Fight the Noise with pinsーanything else is useless.”
“We should stick together. Stay alive for seven days: We’re fighting for something important, something we’ve lost.”
“Be careful where you scan and who you scan. There’s perverts out there, Hyakuya…”)
And, sure, his partner is too preciously pure at times. But he undoubtedly trusts the guy with his life.
And so, Hyakuya declares sincerely with passion in his heart:
“I trust you, Yoichi.”
He repeats, affirms, and is relieved to see a small smile sent in his direction.
week one：day five。
Their bond grows thereafter.
Fighting Noise confidently and with undeterred trust. Completing missions with only seconds to spare and trading relieved and frightened laughs at their near deaths once the timers vanished from their palms. Laughing in the midst of this Hell they’d found themselves in. Grinning together despite looking Death straight in the eye. They did it together.
Unspoken it may have been, Hyakuya had grown to trust Yoichi, love him like something precious. This is frightening. What if Yoichi were to vanish? What if challenging Death in the face was not enough? These thoughts encouraged something vicious in Hyakuya, a desire to protect and defend even at the cost of his own well-being. Yoichi is someone who must be defended, shielded from the horrors of the Game.
So, the switch of roles: Now, he follows Yoichi, and follows him loyally, willingly. Yoichi’s goals and desires become Hyakuya’s.
(Is this what it means to have someone to live for? A frightening feeling. Hyakuya doesn’t know whether to hate it or embrace it.)
week one：day six。
Had he something to live for, prior to this Game, prior to Yoichi? His partner mentioned that the point of this chaos is to reunite with something important by the end of the week. Something lost. What was Hyakuya's Loss, anyway? It couldn’t have been that important, right if he forgot it.
Is it name? A mental shrug. Maybe.
He wonders what Yoichi's lost, too. Wonders if it has something to do with the way he hides behind that phone…
Curiosity gets the better of him.
“Yo.” Hyakuya gestures to the phone Yoichi has his nose buried in once again. “What’s up?”
“Eh? What’s up with... what exactly?” Savior stutters dumbly in question, wide eyes trailing up from the screen.
This guy. Hyakuya rolls his eyes with a small grin and gestures to the phone again, which Yoichi quickly digs into his pocket with a furious wave of his hands and goes with the bullshit excuse that it’s nothing, please forget it.
“Hey, come on, I'm not an idiot. You’re always on your phone. Can’t be Twitter or anything like that. It’s something, tell me.” He means to say this is encouragingly, giving Yoichi a nudge with his elbow.
“We.... aren’t any closer to the mission just standing here, right, Hyakuya? We should get going.”
Smooth, man.
Okay, so Yoichi obviously no expert in the delicate art of Changing the Subject. Why torment the guy any more, though? Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk about it. Hyakuya leaves the subject to rest, to die. It’s not his business to dig into Yoichi’s past. He trusts the present Yoichi right in front of him, the guy risking his ass with him as his partner. All he needs to know.
They press on together. The last day. They’re at the home stretch. Almost there. Almost home.
week one：day seven。
Yoichi’s final words are about his sister.
She was his Loss. He's fighting for her. He's been looking at a picture of her on his phone this entire time. Hyakuya glimpses it at Yoichi's side, who's blindly reaching for it. Hyakuya tearfully berates and fights to keep the bloodied boy still, safe on his lap and in his arms as he grabs the phone for him.
One last look: Hyakuya knows that traditionally meek grin belongs only to Yoichi. And his sisters is just the opposite: proud, daring the world.
It's cute, Hyakuya says. Says something like that. He's not sure he can make it out himself, his words are so watery.
Yoichi seems to understand it clearly. Yoichi summons a faint laugh that's more like a strangled cough.
Red lips part, but nothing else comes. Green eyes glaze over.
And that’s all Hyakuya figures out about Yoichi's sister; the rest is left unspoken on Yoichi's bloodied lips. They perish with the body in Hyakuya’s arms.
He promised he’d protect Yoichi Saotome.
And now Yoichi Saotome is dead.
A scream. Loud, searing scream that tears at his skin, crushes his heart. A scream of failure, sorrow, pain.
.
(A dream. It has to be. He doesn’t feel Here or There or Anywhere, but scenes flash to mind so vivid, so real. Foreign faces so familiar. Child corpses beaming with wide, toothy grins. Speaking in unison to him, the sole survivor, bringing to life guilt that remains unspoken in his heart.
He screams at their bloodied, toothy grins. A scream of failure, sorrow, pain.
Not a dream.
A nightmare.)
.