Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Okuyasu slumped against the school roof fence, forehead pressed into the wire and eyes fixated on the footpath down below. It was a long drop-- that's why they had the fence. Three metres tall, topped with spikes and planted in a waist-high brick wall. Okuyasu thought someone could vault it, if they were desperate.

"I'm fuckin' sick of this place." He mumbled. Josuke, crouched beside his leg, gave a scoff.

"You fail a test again?"

Okuyasu clenched the wire, feeling it cut into his fingers. He scowled.

"Wasn't even a test. They asked me to do the stupid reading thing in English." Growling, he lifted his head and hit it heavily against the fence, making it rattle. "They know I can't fuckin' do it! Why would they ask me to do it when they know I'm gonna fuck it up?"

Eyes squeezed shut, he only heard Josuke sigh.

"Because they're assholes." Click of a lighter-- that was a bad habit he'd picked up from Okuyasu, though he claimed he only smoked socially. Okuyasu inclined his head, glancing down at him, and Josuke returned the look, inhaling nicotine deeply before passing the cigarette up. Okuyasu took a drag. "You know how many times I've gotten shit for not being some prodigy at English? They know my dad's not fuckin' here. They don't give a shit." He held his hand out, flicking his fingers until Okuyasu passed the cigarette back. "They just hate us, man. They wanna make us feel like crap."

Okuyasu wasn't too sure about that. As angry as he was, the thought that all of them were out to get him just didn't ring true-- but then, what did he know? He'd trusted Keichou. Look where that had got him.

"You're right." He said. The cigarette brushed his hand again, and he took it. Smoke soothed his lungs right down to the pits; he shut his eyes.

"So what happened with English?" Josuke asked, bringing him out of it. "They just humiliate you, or..?"

Okuyasu grimaced. The cigarette was burning low; he took another drag before passing the stub back to Josuke, who finished it.

"S'embarrassing."

"I won't laugh." Josuke reassured.

Okuyasu side-eyed him, before dropping his head again. On the concrete down below, some kids were running around; he wondered what they'd do if something fell on them.

"I told the teacher I wasn't gonna do it. She got all pissed off and started saying some... like I'm a dumbass or some shit. I dunno. Fuckin' got so mad, I wasn't even listening." He cringed, curling into the fence, feeling it warp under his weight. "I threw a chair at her."

Josuke sucked in a breath. "Jesus, dude. That's... I mean, is she okay?"

"It missed." Okuyasu said defensively. Then he slackened. "I mean, I know it was fucked up. I know. I'm a fuckin' asshole." He lifted his head, slammed it down. Chain rustled. "I just... I can't take this place, y'know? I'm too dumb to be here. And then I've gotta go act like a piece of shit about it instead of just droppin' out. No wonder everyone gets pissed off at me."

Josuke contemplated him, idly picking at a scab on his forearm. Before he could say anything, Okuyasu continued.

"Anyway, they're making me go see the... fuckin', guidance counsellor. Or whatever." He mumbled. "So I gotta go get yelled at after school too. Woo-hoo."

"The guidance counsellor?" Josuke said in surprise. "I've gotta go there too. I was gonna ask if you'd met them already, like if you could tell me how chill they are and stuff."

"I dunno, I've never been before." Okuyasu said. Then he stiffened, pushing upright to gawk at Josuke. "What the fuck did they get you for?"

Youko dropped her files heavily on the desk as she entered the small conference room set aside for her that day. Dumping her bag beside them, she slowly trailed her way to the window, wiping a thin layer of dust off the sill with her hand. The bell was going to go soon. The silent grounds outside would be filled with students cleaning, and then, if they weren't club members, rushing home-- and that's when her job would start.

Sighing, she turned to the desk, leaning against the back of her chair as she glanced over the notes they'd faxed to her. A few naughty kids today. First one up had thrown a chair at his teacher. Jesus. She kneaded her forehead, wondering how they expected her to fix this kind of dysfunction in twenty minutes.

Youko had become a therapist because she wanted to help people. She wanted to fix the problems she'd seen in the world, be a lifeline for the kids who everyone else left to drown. But the reality of the field was hitting her harder with every year-- everything was built for failure. It was something she repeated to herself, bitterly, every time she walked down to view the latest batch of students beyond her reach. Every single one of them was stacked up to fail. And her useless little meetings were just another brick in it all.

The bell rang. She jerked her head up, then busied herself getting her things in order. Files stacked on a nearby shelf. Bag hidden behind her. Notes tucked inside her workpad, ready to refer to when it was time to play psychologist. She loaded a new stick of lead into her mechanical pencil, clicking it to just the right length, then sat, stared at the door, and waited.

The first kid-- Nijimura --surprised her by being punctual. Well, she supposed he'd just want to get it over with and go home. It should've been more shocking that he even came. He shouldered his way into the office, a tall boy in a modified uniform. Delinquent, then. She took note of the jagged scars on his face as he sat down-- were they from a fight? They were so symmetrical, so intentionally-placed-- maybe he'd done them himself to look tough. Her grip tightened on her pencil as she finally met his eyes.

"Nijimura-san. I'm Ono Youko, it's nice to meet you. How are you doing today?"

Nijimura grunted in response. His eyes slid over her, across her desk, to the window behind her. A glower was forming on his face, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap.

"I'm sure you know why you're here already, so let's cut to the chase." She glanced down at her notepad, an excuse to steady herself. Nijimura could act as tough as he liked, but guys like him usually settled down if you simply held your ground. She looked back up, trying to keep her face stiff. "Why did you do it?"

Nijimura blinked at her, jaw tightening. A solid second passed. His hands kept working-- clench, unclench --but now his crooked yellow teeth were grinding against each other too, snagging his voice when he finally spoke.

"I don't know."

It came out smaller than she expected. A dangerous quiet, she thought. A still between gunshots. She took a short, sharp breath, checking her notepad again.

"Well, I was told you had an argument with your teacher. Did that have something to do with it?"

He glared, something unexpected glinting deep within in it. Something foggy.

"I..." his brow only tightened, "I guess. But..."

He dropped his head. He was rubbing his knuckles now, palms mortaring over surprisingly unscathed skin.

"S'not an excuse, right?"

Youko blinked. "Pardon?"

"I mean, it was fucked up. I could've hurt her real bad, an' even if I didn't, I still scared the hell outta her." And there was some conviction in it, some strength behind his words for the first time. He looked at her firmly-- it was only then that she realised he'd been avoiding her gaze.

"I don't wanna be that kinda person."

The air went still. Youko's eyes darted over him, his thin face, his withdrawn posture. His hands that worried at each other, a grounding pressure. Then she looked down at the notes she'd jotted-- hostile. Uncooperative. Cold. Furiously, she flipped her pencil around in her fingers, erasing it all. She really was just part of the problem.

"Let's start over." She said, a small sigh. A single word opened her now-blankened page: ashamed. She met Nijimura's face, tried to smile at him. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

Okuyasu couldn't stand being cooped up. Sat at the same stupid desk with the same fucking view, doing nothing for hours on end-- it drove him insane. He sighed, dropping his head into his palm, narrowly resisting the urge to just lay down and sleep. It's not like he had any clue what they were studying, anyway.

"Nijimura, what about you?"

He jerked upright. A cold dart of ice pierced his skin, making his heart hammer.

"Huh?"

"The article." Takada-sensei frowned. "Is your book open? Do you know what page we're on?"

They weren't questions-- they were accusations. Okuyasu's arms were far too stiff as he cracked open his desk, slid out the textbook for English. He stared at it. It weighed heavy in both hands, cover cold against the sweat on his palms; on it, a group of students were arm-in-arm, smiling and laughing, under words he could barely read. His chest ached-- he realised he was holding his breath.

Takada-sensei marched up in front of him, flipping the book open with a snap. Her sharp, manicured nail tapped the top of a paragraph, and her gaze burnt into him over her glasses.

"Start here."

The letters swam across the page, spinning around each other like fervent drunken dancers. Okuyasu couldn't read, blood pulsing at each click of Takada-sensei's heels, as she went back to the front of the class. He forced another deep breath-- what was the first word? What was the first letter? It was all nonsense. He wanted to slam his head against the desk-- stupid, stupid, stupid.

He looked up at her in wordless panic, mind completely blank.

"I'm not fuckin' reading this shit."

Her face contorted. "What?"

"I'm not gonna do it." And something rose in his throat when he said it, like he could vomit out a scream, like his ribs would burst. "Why can't Ueno do it? Or Kawayama? Why the fuck would you ask me?"

The class was starting to ripple around him, whispering and giggling. Takada-sensei glared.

"I asked you," her voice came out overly cold, overly clipped, in a way that made his hands shake, "because you need a wake-up call. You can't keep sitting there doing nothing and expect to fly by in this class. What was your last quiz score again, Nijimura? 10%?"

Someone let slip a laugh. Takada-sensei sneered.

"Oh no, sorry-- it was 5%. One question. How long did you study for that?"

Okuyasu clenched his fists so hard his nails broke skin. He had tried. It was so fucking pathetic, but tears were choking him now, prickling his eyes, because goddammit he had tried and he just couldn't fucking do it. He'd spent every fucking afternoon sitting with his stupid books, with Koichi or Josuke or even alone late at night, and he'd read the notes and he'd practiced and Koichi had made those stupid fucking flashcards with little stickers and colour-coded borders, and he STILL couldn't fucking do it. He shouldn't have even tried. If he hadn't fucking tried, none of this would matter to him now.

Snickers rang in his ears-- tears were dribbling down his face, fucking baby --and to Okuyasu everything shrunk to the shaky pressure of his feet on the floor, to the beat of his heart, and to Takada-sensei's black, unflinching hatred.

He didn't know what he did next. He just wanted to leave, but she was there, and his whole body was tensing-- they were screaming, or just she was, but he felt something ragged in his throat and he couldn't stop any of it, he couldn't move himself, he couldn't breathe. Everyone was trying to kill him and he just wanted them to GO AWAY.

And then-

"And then..?"

Nijimura was crumpled into as small a ball as he could manage in his undersized chair. He'd drawn a knee up, and had his face buried in it-- Youko couldn't see it, but she could hear him sobbing.

"Is that when you did it?" She gently asked. She snagged the tissue-box from the nearby shelf, pushing it towards him.

Nijimura jumped at the sound of it hitting the desk, eyes wide and pinpoint-focused for a second. He untensed, grabbing a fistful of tissues and scrubbing them messily against his face. A pause, and then he gave a reluctant nod.

Youko inclined her head at him, a little pride brimming up inside her. She'd identified the problem-- his school struggles --and unlike half the kids she saw, Nijimura actually wanted her help. This was something. She'd just ease him into a discussion about his grades, and they could figure out a solution together.

"It makes sense to be upset, when someone insults you the way she did." She started, spinning her pen between her fingers.

She'd expected him to jump on the little trace of validation, to take it as a chance to complain. But instead he just shrugged, shaking his head the slightest.

"It's not..." He shrugged again, a heaving roll of his broad shoulder like the swell of a crestless wave. "I mean, I get why she got mad at me. Don't really have a right to be upset about it."

Youko's brows drew together. "Why's that?"

"Well..."

Nijimura's hands twisted the tissues until they tore, then moved to scratch at his jawline. She saw a flash of silvery scarring on his arm, just below his sleeve, before his hands dropped back to his lap. He shrugged a third, helpless time.

"She's right. About all of it."

Youko stared at him. Before she could gather her thoughts enough to speak, there was a knock at the door. Dammit. They were out of time.

"Do you hafta get that?" Nijimura asked, and she blinked at him, shaken from her thoughts.

"Oh... well, that'll be the next person after you, so yes." She flipped her notepad to a new page, looking ruefully at the clock. They hadn't even begun to address his problem. Hell, she barely even got into what his problem was. If she were a therapist, she'd get a whole hour just to learn about her patient’s life, to gain a deep understanding of them so she was equipped to assess how to help. But here, Nijimura was thrown into her lap, and before she'd even got ahold of him, he was already drifting away. Built for failure. She sighed, waving a hand to let him go.

As the next student made their way in, she couldn't help but cynically wonder what the point was. No matter how much she felt she could help these kids, she didn't have the time, or the resources-- she couldn't even request a follow-up session without the school grumbling about their budget. She could only hope, as contradictory as it was, that kids like Nijimura would get in trouble again, and maybe in their second session they could get somewhere.

Josuke straightened as Okuyasu finally exited the office, the next kid after him already ducking inside. Pushing up from off the floor, he greeted him, scrutinising. Without a word, he brushed the last tears off Okuyasu's cheek with his thumb.

"And?" He asked. His palm pressed hotly into his skin, before withdrawing. "How was it?"

Okuyasu shrugged at him. "I dunno. She didn't yell at me."

"Oh. Great." Josuke's shoulders dropped; idly, he messed with his scab again, eyes drifting to the door. "Some counsellors are massive assholes. When they're nice, you just gotta act sorry and they'll let you go." He looked back at Okuyasu, and grinned. "Let's go do something before I have to go in. Grab a smoke, or vending machine snacks, or something."

Okuyasu snorted, bumping his head against Josuke's. "Yeah. Like you need to give yourself lung cancer any faster."

"Sez you, asshole." He snaked an arm around Okuyasu's back, deftly snatching a smoke from his pants pocket, before skipping ahead down the hall. "C'mon. We got twenty minutes or something, right?"

Josuke had started smoking because it was cool. Because Jotaro did it, and because Okuyasu always lit his cigarette using the tip of his own, leaning his face right in as if there was no better way to do it. There really wasn't. The orange glow lit a highlight on the tip on Okuyasu's nose that night, a firefly on the rest of his orange-bathed skin. He leant back slightly, ancient deck creaking below him.

"Breathe in slow the first time." He'd said it quiet. "Or you'll start hackin' your lungs out."

Josuke tried it. It tasted like shit. He watched Okuyasu puff a cloud out through his lips, and did it again.

"Is this supposed to do something?" He croaked. The taste of nicotine went all the way down, scorching and ashy-- he couldn't taste his own tongue.

Okuyasu snickered at him, bumping their heads together. "It's supposed'ta make you relax. I dunno how much it works, though." He contemplated the cigarette between his fingers, wiggling it up and down. "I just do it."

Josuke nodded. There were a lot of things like that, for him. He took another draw on the cigarette, getting the hang of it all.

Okuyasu huffed out a breath, white smoke curling up into nothing. Pulling his legs up, he shifted, leaning against Josuke's side. His undone hair feathered against Josuke's cheek, making his heart stutter.

"Y'know, you remind me of Keichou sometimes." He tensed, stuttered "In a good way! Like, you make me feel safe. I dunno."

Josuke warmed. The stars started melting down, vivid streaks of white chasing the dying light of the sun, and he sat there, in the ring of cicadas and the beat of his blood. He took a breath. Cradled the back of Okuyasu's head and leant down closer.

"My cigarette's going out." He mumbled. He touched the tip of the half-burnt stub against his, nose-to-nose. It didn't even help. Josuke pulled away from him, away entirely, curling alone to burn his smoke down to the last.

"I'll light you another one." Okuyasu offered, when at last he squashed it out.

Josuke considered him, considered the risen dark, considered the ache in his chest. He nodded, tongue burnt dry.

"Yeah. I'll take another one."

Higashikata Josuke was definitely a name Youko had heard before, but she couldn't quite place it. It wasn't a past patient, so far as she remembered at least. Still, this one was curious-- he was being sent in for a single bad test score, of all things, and for "keeping bad company". To be written up for something so miniscule, she imagined he had a bit of a reputation.

And when he walked through the door she could see why-- he was a menacing height for a first-year, dressed in the kind of thing the bad boys wore when she was in school, and as he sat down she could detect the distinct stench of nicotine about him. Looking closer, she realised something more noteworthy: from his sharp features and heavy eyelids, he was almost definitely a hafu. That alone could've gotten him such disproportionate treatment.

Still, he greeted her with an amiable smile, and after Nijimura she wanted to avoid being so quick to judge.

"Hi, Higashikata-san? I'm Ono Youko-"

"Like the singer?" Higashikata asked, not missing a beat. Just as fast, he backtracked, raising his hands. "Oh, sorry, I interrupted..."

"it's alright." She shot him a smile. "It's different kanji to the singer... though I've heard she uses katakana now."

There really was no point discussing what he'd been sent here for, so she figured they could waste some time.

"Are you a big music fan?" She asked.

Higashikata nodded, eyes bright. He relaxed slightly in his seat. "Oh, yeah. I'm really into a lot of those Western artists, like Prince, David Bowie, Queen... I'm not that big on The Beatles, but my grandpa really loved them, so-"

(the slightest flicker across his face, an almost imperceptible drop that Youko was well trained to pick up on)

"-so I've heard pretty much everything there is to know about them." He laughed. "He was a big defender of Ono Yoko, even if he didn't like her solo work. Always used to get mad when people said she broke up the band. He blamed McCartney."

Youko nodded along, wondering if it was alright to pry. Well, she supposed it was her job to see what was troubling these kids. She'd ask.

"When you speak about him like that, is he... do you still have a relationship with him?" She said delicately.

Higashikata's reaction was a little more schooled now; he must've realised he'd let something slip. Tricky kid.

"Ah... well, he passed away a couple months ago."

"I'm sorry. That's so recent."

"It's fine!" He waved his hands, then dropped them to his lap, ducking his head slightly. His smile still hadn't wavered. "I'm doing okay. It was more my mum that was torn up about it-- um, I mean, I miss him a lot, of course, but..."

"Do you feel that you have to be strong for your mother's sake?" Youko pressed, and Higashikata laughed.

"You're making it sound like some sorta burden." He started scratching at his arm, where a scab already was. It quickly began to bleed. "Anyway, I was sent in to be told off about something, right? What was it again? The teacher wasn't super clear with me."

Youko twisted her lips, deciding to drop it. Everyone coped with grief differently, she supposed; a mature kid like him was probably fine.

"Right, yes. Well, I wasn't very clear on it either." She looked down pointlessly at her notes, just out of habit. "Chiba-sensei wrote that you got a 65 on your maths test. Apparently he doesn't like the friends you keep, either." She gave him a wry smile. "What do you think of that?"

Higashikata's face pulled into a comical grimace. "Aw, jeez. That's the best maths score I've had in years, too. I thought he'd be glad I was studying." He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth, crossing his arms. "And I feel like I know who he's talking about with the other thing. It's not really fair. Even if they're kinda rough-looking, my friends are nice, y'know?"

Youko nodded. "I'm sure. And how are you going with your other subjects? Do you struggle with school much?"

"A little, but who doesn't?" He chuckled. "I'm kinda just scraping by in most of my classes, but I'm working on it. Hopefully they stop complaining about me soon."

Youko huffed out a laugh, looking down at her notepad then realising she hadn't yet written a thing. She closed it, sliding it away.

"Well, it sounds to me like I have nothing to discuss with you. I hope your teachers let up on you soon-- I'll make sure to complain to Chiba-sensei." She rolled her eyes, waving him off. "You can go. Have a good afternoon."

Higashikata nodded, jumping out of his seat with a smile. As he headed off, she contemplated, and then called out after him.

"Higashikata-san?"

He turned, and she shot him an amused look.

"You should stop smoking. It isn't good for you."

Higashikata did nothing for a second. Then he laughed, said goodbye, and shut the door.

Chapter Text

Youko was in the staffroom writing lesson plans when the alarm began to blare. A loud, repetitive siren that set the few other teachers in the room to muttering-- before she could recall what it meant, a voice came over the speakers.

"All staff and students, please make your way to the sports field per evacuation procedures. This is not a drill. All staff and students..."

It continued on, but noone was paying it any mind now-- they were already rushing out of their seats and into the hall, talking frantically. Youko headed out behind them, and together they started to herd the kids towards the exits. It was lunchtime, so everyone was scattered about-- they'd never done a fire drill during lunch. Noone was prepared. Even as the announcement continued to assert that, no, this was not a drill, half the students she passed were just standing around in confusion.

"Head down to the sports field!" A teacher on her right called out, when the announcement stopped. "Yes, now, I don't care if you're eating lunch. Leave it here."

Youko mimicked her, waving her arms to urge lagging kids ahead. "Go down to the sports field! Don't run!"

At last they were all assembled down on the grass. The students were ordered into class groups, and their homeroom teachers started taking attendance. Youko stood aside with the rest of the staff, themselves being headcounted by the principal.

"Do you know what happened? Was it a fire?" Amano-sensei, the sports teacher, asked someone beside him. Youko's ears perked up.

"I've heard it was a bomb threat." It was Kimura-sensei who replied. "Some kids heard an explosion near one of the first-year classrooms. They're gonna get the police in to search the whole building."

"Jesus." Amano cocked his head. "You really think it was a bomb? Could've just been a gas explosion."

"Well, they're not sure. Better safe than sorry, right now."

Kimura noticed her listening in and turned to her, grinning.

"Hey, Ono-san, you're the guidance counsellor, right? You get any fucked up kids who could've done this?"

"Oh yeah, you could get asked to testify, Ono-san. That's kinda scary." Amano laughed.

Youko gave them a perfunctory smile, internally rolling her eyes. "I like to believe in our students."

"Yeah, but seriously. If you had to put money on it." Kimura rubbed his chin, eyeing the students lined up nearby. "I'd probably say Hazamada. That kid gives me the creeps. If he doesn't end up being a serial killer one day, I'd be surprised."

"Oh yeah, he's no good." Amano shook his head. "Have you had Yamagishi? She's a pretty sullen kid too. Her attendance is awful, and I don't think she has any friends."

"Yeah, but she's a girl. Maybe if the boy she liked rejected her..." Kimura snickered.

Youko gritted her teeth, willing this evacuation to be over with. She could see a flock of policemen just entering the school-- god, they could be here a while.

"Oh!" Amano snapped his fingers. "You know who it definitely could be? I'm not sure if you've had them, but-"

"Nijimura?" A voice called out in the distance. "Has anyone seen Nijimura Okuyasu?"

"Higashikata Josuke's missing too. From class 1-B."

Youko whipped her head around, eyes wide. Those names... she searched the crowd, hoping to spot the boys' distinctive faces tucked in the wrong homegroup, or tardily making their way down the hill. Hoping they were safe.

But the minutes passed with no sign of them, and before long they were all being ushered back to class. Fifth period had well begun, and in the end they never found any bombs. The hall outside 1-B wasn't even damaged-- police chalked up the loud noise to some kind of prank.

And that might've been the end of it, if Higashikata and Nijimura weren't found.

Okuyasu leant against the frame of the phone-booth's doorway, boredly kicking at the other edge as Josuke continued to talk. He'd tried to keep up with the conversation from what snippets he could get, but he'd given up quickly-- after that, he'd told himself he was 'keeping watch', but there wasn't much to see, either.

Josuke hung up, and he jolted to attention, leaning in. "What'd he say?"

"Uh," Josuke chewed his cheek for a second, "keep looking for Shigechi if we can. And tell all the stand users here to keep an eye out too."

"That's it? He doesn't sound super worried."

"Yeah, well, that's Jotaro-san." Josuke shrugged. "Anyway, let's just get back to school. Probably missing class by now."

"Yeah, I heard the bells ringing. Pretty sure fifth period's already started." Okuyasu said, following Josuke back along the road to school. He kicked a rock, scowling in mock anger. "If we get in trouble for cuttin' class, I'm gonna beat Shigechi's ass."

Josuke cackled. "Yeah, if it turns out he just pranked us or some shit, I'm gonna be really fuckin' pissed."

"Heh. He's probably going through our bags lookin' for change while we're out here, lil bastard." Okuyasu cracked his knuckles, looking contemplatively at the road. "Oh, actually, I noticed something weird before. There was this... I dunno if you heard it, but there was, like, an alarm? Think it came from the school."

"Huh?" Josuke cocked his head at him. "What'd it sound like?"

"Like, BWAHHH BWAHHH BWAHHH." He demonstrated with his hands as well, trying to gauge if Josuke got him. "Like that."

"Ah. 'Bwah bwah bwah', huh?" Josuke quirked a smile. They reached an intersection, and he signalled Okuyasu to turn. "Yeah, I dunno. Maybe it was the fire alarm? They usually tell us at the start of the day if there's gonna be a drill, though."

"Huh."

They turned another corner, school coming into sight, before Okuyasu thought to ask:

"Y'think it has something to do with Shigechi?"

"What, like, he set a fire or something?" Josuke frowned.

"Maybe. I dunno. Just... usually when two weird things happen at once, they end up bein' related."

Okuyasu hadn't expected to actually be right. As they neared the wide double-doors to the entrance hall, they could see it was absolutely packed-- it was like the whole damn school had just arrived with them, only now heading off for classes that should've already begun. Before they could make it far inside, a teacher spotted them and stormed over, face flaming red. Okuyasu preemptively tensed.

"Where have you two been!?" His voice cut through the hubbub of the room, hushing other students nearby. Okuyasu clenched his fists. When he snuck a glance at Josuke, he found him bowing his head.

"Sorry, Sensei. We-" He bit his lip, eyes darting across the floor. "We were just..."

"Whatever excuse you're about to make up, you can save it." People were beginning to gawk now. The teacher bade them no mind, but Okuyasu was scorched by it. "Disappearing for that long, I know you were up to something. You always are."

"We didn't do shit!" The words burst from Okuyasu's mouth before he could think, teeth clicking together hard at the end of them. He glared. "Waddaya have on us, huh? Ya gonna say we lit the fire? We weren't even here for that!"

Josuke smacked a fist against his back, hissing at him to shut up. Okuyasu didn't get why until he saw the teacher's face shift.

"What fire?"

"We just thought there was a fire because of the alarm!" Josuke sputtered, pushing between them and waving his hands. "We left the campus during lunch to use the-"

"I said I don't want your excuses, Higashikata!" He snapped. "Where the hell did you light a fire? Did you detonate something? I could report you to the police, you know!"

Josuke winced, gnawing his lip with panic. It made Okuyasu want to die. How did he always manage to fuck everything up? How was he this stupid? If Keichou was here-

"Is everything alright?"

Okuyasu blinked, turning to see... what was her name? The guidance counsellor. She peered up at the three of them, brow creasing. The other teacher huffed.

"You don't need to get involved, Ono-san."

"Please excuse me, then." Ono turned her attention to the two of them, ignoring the teacher's glare. "What happened? You were missing during the evacuation, are you alright?"

"We're fine. Sorry to trouble you." Josuke answered, giving another little bow. Okuyasu let him take the lead, only mumbling an assent. He didn't need to screw things up any more. "We just... a friend of ours from the middle school came over to see us, and we lost track of him when the evacuation started. We were worried he'd gotten hurt somewhere, so we were looking for him."

Smooth liar. Okuyasu narrowly resisted the urge to grin at him.

"Oh, that's a difficult situation, huh?" Youko said sympathetically, fingers pressed to her chin. "It was dangerous for you to stay in the building, though. Next time, leave with everyone else and let the police handle things."

"Right. Sorry, Sensei." Another bow, deep and childishly earnest. Josuke looked up again, and actually rubbed the back of his head like a goddamn cartoon character. "Um, if it's okay, we probably need to get to class now. We're already late..."

"Oh, of course. I'll write a note for your teachers."

It was then that the other teacher finally seemed to find his tongue.

"Are you seriously just excusing them?" He spat. "Do you know what kind of kids you're dealing with?"

"I do." Ono gave him a flat smile, digging in her bag to grab a notepad and pen. "It's alright for you to go now, Satou-san. You don't need to get involved any longer."

It was a couple days after that that the school finally announced Shigechi's 'disappearance', his teacher solemnly sharing the news in an assembly everyone chattered and laughed through. They offered counselling to whoever needed it. Josuke wondered if anyone did.

"And then he fuckin' said 'everyone knows you lit that bomb', or some shit." Okuyasu groused, fanning himself with his maths book. He was lying on Josuke's bed, school things still spread around him from their abandoned attempt to study. "Can you believe that? We didn't even fuckin' do anything, and they're still spreading that shit around."

Josuke nodded idly. "It's ridiculous."

He hadn't been listening very much, honestly (his head was so foggy lately), but he got the gist: Okuyasu's teachers were being shitty again. They had this conversation almost every day now.

"Just don't listen to 'em, alright?" He crossed his legs, leaning back against the edge of the bed and craning his head to look at him. "Like I keep telling you, they're just assholes. They're not right about you."

"They're dissin' you too." Okuyasu tossed his book aside, sighing, and dropped his arm over his eyes. Josuke turned to face him fully.

"I just..." He trailed off. Without a word, he reached his free hand out to Josuke, who took it in his own. A silence stretched. Okuyasu's skin was always so hot against his, rough with calluses and ancient scars; Josuke ran his thumb over his knuckles, where yesterday there'd been a scab. Before he fixed it.

"If there's something on your mind, you can talk to me, man." He said.

Okuyasu rolled his head away, dragging his hand down his face. Josuke waited. When he still failed to speak, Josuke pressed his cheek against the back of his hand, eliciting a soft inhale; Okuyasu's grip tightened for just a second.

"Um..." He glanced back at Josuke, then away slightly, distracted. "S'just... I was just thinking about Shigechi."

Now it was Josuke's turn to lose his breath.

"What about him?"

"I dunno." It was a mumble. He frowned up at the ceiling, eyes shimmery. "I don't... I don't think I'm really sad about him. Kinda just realised that all I've been bitchin' about is myself. I feel like a dick."

Josuke's chest ached-- he'd started holding his breath without noticing. Shakily, he exhaled, feeling a barbed shiver through his flesh that made him want to smash shit to pieces. Was that grief, or just pain? Was there a difference? He remembered how all-consuming it'd been after his grandpa had died-- he couldn't stay inside his head, didn't feel human anymore. He just had to break, had to feel things snap below his fists, or he'd start falling apart himself. But this wasn't that. This didn't hurt so bad. And Josuke realised he hadn't been thinking about Shigechi either, since he'd died-- he'd just been thinking about himself. Thinking about hearing his name being screamed metres away and just sitting there, like there was time to waste. Like he shouldn't have known better after Angelo.

"Josuke, you listening, man?"

Josuke blinked, slackening his now-crushing grip on Okuyasu's hand and shooting him a smile. "Yeah, sorry, just got distracted. But I get what you're saying. Shit's hard. We only met Shigechi recently too, so maybe it's normal not to be mourning him."

"Hmm." Okuyasu gave a noncommittal shrug. He rolled over to face Josuke, studying him, then slipped his hand from his so he could sit up and stretch.

"You gonna go to the guidance counsellor?" He asked.

Josuke scrunched his brow. "What for?"

"I dunno. They said we could, if we knew Shigechi." He scratched at his collarbone, looking out the window. "But I guess we didn't really know him."

"No."

Josuke wanted to say more, but the words stuck in his throat. He just shook his head. Stared down at the floor, and let the conversation lapse into silence.

It had taken a little longer than Youko expected for Nijimura to be sent to her again. About a week and a half, but she knew in that time he'd been given detention almost every day-- maybe they just hoped he'd get sick of it and leave for good. Well, whatever the case, she was glad to get another chance with him.

She greeted him with a smile when he walked in that afternoon, and hesitantly, he returned it. It didn't last too long.

"It's good to see you again, Nijimura-san."

A small nod.

"And how have you been?" Youko asked, flicking over her notes to refresh herself on what he was here for. Yelled at a teacher. Walked out of class. Similar issue to last time.

"I'm okay." Nijimura kept his eyes on the rim of her desk-- not looking at the floor, at least, but not meeting her face either. His hands squeezed and starbursted in his lap, white-knuckled.

"That's good." Youko paused, giving him a moment before they launched into the harder stuff. "So you've had some issues in class again, huh? I think last time we talked, the problem seemed to be that the work was too hard for you. Is that still the problem you're having?"

He shrugged slightly, then nodded. Youko jotted down a note.

"Well, I think if we work together, we can make things a little easier for you, and then you might not get so angry." She set down her pencil, lacing her fingers together. "I asked your teachers to let me look over some of your old assignments,"

Nijimura cringed,

"...and I think it's obvious you've been needing assistance for a long time." She gave him an empathetic look. "How long have you been having trouble with school, Nijimura-san?"

Nijimura's dark eyes darted up to her, shoulders hitching but expression open. "Since I started."

"Since elementary school?" Youko remarked.

Nijimura frowned, blinked, then shook his head. "Oh, no, I only started like a month ago."

Youko spun her pencil around her fingers, perplexed. "So it was just the transition to highschool? But if you were fine in middle school-"

"Nah, I didn't go to middle school, Sensei. I said I only started this year."

Youko stared at him, pencil coming to a stop. He'd never been to school before? How was that possible? Nijimura had to realise that was completely absurd-- but he was staring at her so frankly, with such honest confusion, as if she was the one not making sense. He was fifteen years old! How on earth-

She cut off her train of thought, needing to assess things. Clarity. She'd just clarify, and things would probably start to make more sense.

"So what did you do before this year?"

"Um..." At the very least, this topic had gotten Nijimura to loosen up. He folded his arms, looking up as he recalled. "I walked around outside a lot. Went to the library to read comics." He grinned. "I stole snacks from the supermarket, like, every day. Had that for breakfast n' lunch, then my brother made me dinner. Then after dinner he'd try to teach me stuff he learnt at school. I wasn't that good at it, though."

"Where were your parents?" Youko asked, brow creasing.

Nijimura stilled. It lasted for just a second-- the dimming of his smile, tensing of his fists --but then he shrugged her off, nonchalant.

"Our mum died when I was three. An' our dad... um..." He scratched his jaw, grimacing.

Youko wasn't sure she could guess what he was trying not to say.

"He wasn't... well, he couldn't... do... stuff." He finished lamely, shrugging again. "S'not like he was gone, but... I dunno how to explain it..."

"Was he sick?" She tried.

Nijimura tilted his head. "Yeah, I guess."

"So..." She glanced down at her notes, double-checking them. Dead mum. Raised by brother. ??? sick dad? It was no wonder the boy had issues. Growing up without a proper parental figure, he'd probably never learnt to respect authority. If he was this combative with his teachers, then his brother must have a hell of a time.

"So until this year, you were homeschooled by your brother. And because of that, you're missing a lot of core knowledge, and you aren't able to understand the work." Youko clapped her hands into a clasp. "Well, I have some good news for you: that's a very simple problem to solve."

Okuyasu blinked at her. "Yeah?"

"Yes. If you don't know something, you just have to study it." She rolled her chair towards the shelf, shuffling through her files. "To be honest, I thought you might've had some sort of learning disability. If that was the case, there's nothing I could've done to help you. But with a problem like this..." She slapped a fat wad of paper down onto the table, smiling at him. "Here. These are last year's entrance exams for all your highschool subjects, and a quiz on all the kanji you should know. Do these in your own time, and I'll see how much knowledge we need to catch you up on."

Nijimura looked warily at the pile of papers, taking them and shoving them into his bag. "I'm probably gonna do bad at these."

"That's fine. Just do as much as you can. Whenever you finish them, you can leave them on my desk in the staff room-- or hand-deliver them, if you get sent here again." She said, lips quirking.

Nijimura gave an awkward chuckle, scratching his arm. A quick glance at the clock above the shelf-- she knew what he was thinking, and she was about to shoo him off when she remembered what else she'd meant to ask.

"Oh, right. That friend you and Higashikata-san were looking for... was that Yanguu Shigekiyo? The missing boy?"

Nijimura's gaze whipped back towards her, as if put under a spotlight. At once his face broke into something grim, hands worrying harder than ever; he seemed to be trying to mouth something, but his voice wouldn't quite make it out his throat. Youko spared him the struggle.

"How are you two coping? It must be hard." She waited for a response, but he only shrugged, muttering something she couldn't catch. She inclined her head. "If you're having any trouble, please do come and see me. That goes for Higashikata-san, too. I know he only recently lost someone else; he seems like a strong boy, but too much bad news in a row will wear anyone down eventually."

"I talked with him." Nijimura rubbed his neck. "He's doing okay. We weren't... we weren't super close with Shigechi, so..."

"Oh." Youko bit the end of her pencil, then caught herself and put it down. She hadn't had a single kid from either school come down to see her about Yanguu-- it was so incredibly sad, that noone missed him even now. She'd never met the boy, but she wondered what kind of life he'd had, what kind of issues he might've gone through unnoticed. Maybe he'd run away from it all. Or worse-

"I think that's all we need to discuss." She said, rising hurriedly. She checked the clock-- they still had time, but she was sure Nijimura would be happy to get out early. She started to collect her things; in the corner of her eye, Nijimura slowly rose from his chair.

"Bye, Sensei."

"Have a good afternoon." She stopped, turned to him. "And please do book time with me if you ever need to talk. Right now, you can say it's about Yanguu and they won't question either of us." She tried for a smile, but she wasn't in the mood for it. "Maybe we can start planning your studies out, next time."

Nijimura looked at her apprehensively, shifting his heavy bag to his other hand. A glance at the floor, hand flexing by his side.

"I... Okay. When I get the tests done, I will."

Chapter Text

Higashikata slid into her office with a bright grin, hands shoved into his pockets and bag tucked neatly under one arm. It was the third time this week. By this point, Youko wasn't even pretending to try and counsel him.

"Back again, Higashikata-san?"

"Sorry. I hope you're not sick of my face." He joked, falling into his seat. "I'm always making you stay back late, huh?"

"Oh, don't worry. I get higher rates for my counselling work anyway." She smiled wryly. "Thanks to you, I'll finally get to go on that luxury ski trip to Hokkaido."

Higashikata laughed.

Youko flicked open her notepad, double-checking the slip Higashikata's teacher had sent.

"So what nonsense have they written down about you this time?"

Josuke hadn't slept well last night, and that always left him out of sorts. Usually he could pick himself up with coffee and breakfast, but lately even that didn't help-- the food only congealed in his stomach, adding an undercurrent of nausea to it all.

He'd woken up suddenly at around 3AM that day, mouth dry and heart crashing against the inside of his ribs; whatever he'd dreamt about washed away with the bleary light from his alarm clock, but the feeling remained. He couldn't stop shaking. And even hours later, it was still there, an ache in his chest that wouldn't cease no matter how much he smiled and laughed. While he was sitting down for first period, it still burnt inside him.

And maybe it was exacerbated by knowing that, right that second, Jotaro was probably heading off on his search, Harvest's button securely in hand. Maybe it was that he didn't invite Josuke. That he could've, like he did with the rats, but didn't need him. Maybe it was the thought of that killer lurking, of Jotaro alone, of Josuke just sitting at his stupid fucking desk, out of reach, when anything could be happening, when Jotaro-

White noise rang in his ears, and all of a sudden he was drifting out of his seat, out of his skin. That feeling was back. The pressure in his head, the immense nothing, that tore down his spine and through his veins, seared him raw, until every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring, ready to snap. Josuke didn't know what he was looking at anymore. Blood pounded in his ears, through his flesh, replacing every one of his senses--he was a livewire and a throat full of spit and an aching, falling-

He gripped the edge of his desk to ground himself, stop the vertigo. Hands dug into the cheap smooth-grained wood-- he wanted to break it. It would help. It always helped. And when it was broken he could fix it:- but he faltered, Crazy Diamond on the edge of his consciousness, pricking around his skin. Not here. He couldn't.

Biting his lip until it split, Josuke tugged his hands away from the desk, wrapped his arms around himself. Through the thin fabric of his jacket, he dug his nails into his skin. Sharp. Hard. Harder. It cut through the static, almost enough-- he almost felt himself again. And as his vision melted in he realised someone was in front of him, just a charcoal sketch, lips moving without sound. Something inside Josuke's body replied.

"I dunno."

The face morphed, smudged black furrows forming above thumbprint eyes. Their mouth moved rapidly again.

"I dunno."

And when they spoke next, it was almost discernible below the river in his ears. A muffled, repetitive sound, like a softened kick drum. Josuke waited for his body to respond again, but it didn't. It just stared, silent and sullen, brows drawn heavily above its eyes and nails still clawing for blood. All too late, he realised he'd been given back control.

"Don't act like you're above anyone else here." The teacher scowled, deep and weathered. It was Chiba. Second period already. "I'm sick of your attitude, Higashikata. Get to work."

"Slacking off in class." Youko read. She huffed a laugh. "So what really happened?"

Higashikata leant back in his chair, eyes lit with weary amusement.

"I just zoned out for a second. The teacher asked me a question and I didn't hear it."

"Oh, as if that hasn't happened to everyone." Youko pressed her lips together, flipping her notepad shut. "Listen, Higashikata-san, you don't have to bother coming in for things as pointless as this. You can just go home. If anyone asks, I'll cover for you."

"Aw, it's fine, Sensei. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." He cocked his head, flashing her a twinkling grin. "Besides, it's for Hokkaido, right?"

She gave an appropriate reaction to the quip, but didn't linger on it.

"Seriously, though. I'm concerned that these constant reports are some kind of targeted harrassment." She selected her next words carefully. "Because of your appearance."

Higashikata raised a hand to his hair, but stopped halfway up. "Oh. You mean my race." A little shrug, mouth pulled taut. "Um, yeah, probably."

Youko wasn't exactly sure where to go from there. Somehow, she'd expected that to be a surprise to him, something she'd have to talk him through-- but then, he'd probably been dealing with this his whole life, hadn't he? She tapped her pencil against the table, planning her approach.

"Are your parents aware of the treatment you face?" She tried. "Do they support you?"

Higashikata blinked at her, eyebrows raising a little. "Uhm- well, my mum's always been there for me. No matter what anyone else said, she always made sure I knew I was loved. My dad... he's not- he's not part of our family."

"I see. Is your mother a foreigner?"

"No, she's Japanese." He was starting to look uncomfortable. "My dad is from America."

Suddenly, things clicked together for Youko-- oh, he was THAT Higashikata. The policeman's delinquent grandson. The weird kid. The bastard of that university girl who seduced an old foreign man. Youko pursed her lips, trying not to show her thoughts on her face. She'd heard such awful things about his family... But here was this boy, sitting right in front of her, and he was just as good as anyone else. Just as kind. If she'd recognised him from the start, would she still feel that way?

"I'm sorry if this is painful to bring up..." Her pencil see-sawed in her hand, clicking against the table with each downward swing. Tap, tap, tap. "How were things with your grandfather? When you mentioned him in the past, you seemed very close. Did you ever have any issues..?"

A shadow darted across Higashikata's face. It was minute, so small she almost missed it. He took a sharp breath in. His body was completely still.

"I loved him a lot. And he loved my mum, and he loved me. We were all happy."

Was there something there? The way he spoke, the look on his face-- was that grief, or something deeper? Youko almost wanted to probe, to pull at the little thread dangling from his pristine facade. But she didn't. She chose to believe him. After all, Higashikata had never lied to her.

Josuke swung his way out of the counsellor's office and made a beeline for Okuyasu, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a wide grin.
"In an' out, just like I said, bro."

"Man, you've got it so easy." Okuyasu slumped into his touch, head bumping against Josuke's jaw. "Welp, let's go. I've got a buncha shit to do tonight now."

"Awh, I thought we were gonna hang out!" Josuke complained, shaking him with mock-irritation. They turned down into the entrance hall, and he let him go so they could change shoes. "Waddaya gotta do? Make-up assignments?"

"Nah." Okuyasu shoved his outdoor shoes on, scooped his bag up, and accepted Josuke's embrace again as they walked out the door. "Ono-sensei wanted me to do a buncha tests. To, like, check how smart I am."

"Lame." Josuke stuck out his tongue. "Lemme come over and help you, bro. We'll get it done twice as fast."

"S'not exactly gonna show how smart I am if you help, is it?" Okuyasu said with a snort.

Josuke gave him an unreadable look. His grip shifted, and he turned away for a second-- they were crossing a road. Had to check there weren't cars. Okuyasu wanted to keep looking at him, so he just trusted him to time things right.

"I mean, it sounds shitty, being stuck doing stuff like that." Josuke frowned at him. "What've you been saying to her? I've been in there like six hundred times, and she never gives me any tests or whatever."

"Yeah," Okuyasu jabbed, wrapping an arm around his waist, "but there's nothin' wrong with you."

They eventually reached the patch of road between their two houses, and reluctantly Okuyasu said goodbye. Josuke gave an absent wave before ducking inside-- he'd tried to play it cool, but Okuyasu knew he was bummed out. Must've been really looking forward to pachinko.

He headed into his own house, switching shoes at the door before wandering towards the kitchen.

"I'm home!"

His voice echoed hollowly, met with nothing but the groan of rotting walls. He still wasn't used to not hearing Keichou respond.

Okuyasu tossed his bag onto the kitchen table, grabbing a drinking glass and heading to the sink.

"Welcome home, Okuyasu." He said to himself. He twisted the tap. Nothing happened.

"Shit..." Okuyasu spun it more, then slammed the bench in frustration, whipping his head around as if looking for someone to blame. He tried the lights, then the gas stove-- out. Whatever makeshift rig Keichou had built to leech off the neighbours, it must've finally failed.

"That's awesome. That's really fuckin' awesome." He tested everything again, yelled in frustration when it didn't work. "What the hell am I supposed'ta do, Keichou? You never told me anything! How the fuck do I look after this stupid house?"

Heart bursting in his ears, he swung a kick at the cabinet-- a hinge snapped from the force, leaving the door hanging askew. Okuyasu flinched. Stilled. For several seconds, no sound passed but the thud of his heartbeat, the ragged breath in his chest. He tried to calm himself down.

"Everything's gonna break one day." Slow breath. He scrubbed his face. "No use getting mad. Shit stops workin' sometimes, just gotta roll with the punches."

Okay. Everything was fine. Okuyasu placed his glass down, screwed the tap shut and turned the stove knobs back to zero. This wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before. And if Keichou could figure out how to fix things on his own, then so could he.

Right now, he had to do his schoolwork. There'd still be daylight for a few more hours (thank god for summer), but it was always better safe than sorry. Slumping heavily into a chair, Okuyasu pulled the stack of tests out onto the table, shoved his nerves down, and got to work.

It was maybe halfway through page two that he started to feel the inertia. There was a word he couldn't read-- vaguely, he could guess it was some kind of plant, or maybe animal, from the grass radicals at the top of its kanji. But the context of the sentence wasn't helping. He couldn't make it make sense. And a pressure was crushing in his chest now, mouth dry, palms clammy, and all he could think about was how much he wished he had that water.

Skip the question. Next one. Quickly, Okuyasu found himself in the same hole. He couldn't read. He wasn't smart enough to parse this out. Tossing the whole page aside, he moved on hoping for better luck, but it never came. Nothing made sense! What was he supposed to do? That whole exam flapped by mostly-unanswered, the next one maths. Familiar symbols, layout inscrutable. How was he supposed to solve for letters when it was ALL letters? What were the dumbbell-shaped graphs supposed to be? Was this really where everyone else was at? Okuyasu couldn't even remember the last maths he'd studied-- multiplication tables, then something about triangles that he'd never got down. That might've been three years ago. Or five? The numbers were drifting in front of his face. He half-heartedly attempted a few of the questions, guessed at the multiple-choice, then moved on. Another test, not any better.

It was sometime after the third or fourth that Okuyasu began to cry. He didn't mean to. He didn't want to. He didn't even really know why he was. Dropping his pencil for a second, he curled up, head in his hands, and let out a deep-throated sob. The ache in his chest had turned to a stabbing, breath short and sharp around it. He tried to get back to work, but he couldn't read through his tears-- when he wiped them away, they'd just come back, only slowing him down each time. He growled in frustration, swiped his sleeve across his face and bared his teeth. Why did he always have to get like this when nothing was wrong? He was such a fucking baby.

He managed to power on until sunset, when the text grew too hard to discern and he finally had to give up. He hadn't written a thing for pages now, anyway. Shuffling the papers back into some semblance of order, Okuyasu shoved them into his bag, then slowly rose from his seat. He had to eat. Nothing appealed less to him than the thought of scraping up food right then, but there was noone else to do it for him. He had to grow up. Slack and drained from all his crying fits, he started shuffling through the cupboards, looking for anything he didn't have to prepare.

A half-loaf of bread was jammed behind some ramen packets, but when he pulled it out he found it'd already grown mould. He binned it, settling on cereal instead. Not the most filling thing, but the box said it had vitamins and that was good, right? Good life choices. He poured out two bowls, then remembered he'd have to go all the way to the convenience store if he wanted milk. Dry cereal, then. That was fine. Dry cereal still tasted good.

Creeping up the stairs, he stopped outside his father's room, nudged the door open with a foot. A scuttling rang out from inside. Tensing, Okuyasu set his jaw and slowly walked in.

"Hey, Dad."

The room was dark, the only one whose windows he still hadn't gotten to unboarding. Motes of dust flickered in the few thin streams of light, dim and grey at this time of evening. Okuyasu didn't stray far past the door. His feet felt glued in place, skin prickling with goosebumps as he searched the room, looking out for signs of movement.

"I brought you dinner." Kneeling, he placed the bowl down, far out at arm's reach. A burbling groan nearby-- whipping around, he saw sunken eyes on him, just metres away. Okuyasu held his breath, stumbling backwards out the door.

"Have a good night!"

He slammed the door shut, shivering, knuckles tense and white around the handle. Okay. Dad was fine. That was good. In the morning, he'd have to explain the water outage to him, so he knew he wasn't being deprived on purpose. Okuyasu heaved a great big breath, feeling it stretch his lungs until they hurt. Adrenaline settling, he padded off to the end of the hall, climbed out the window to the roof.

There was something Okuyasu loved about being high up. Nothing but air below his feet, town stretching off forever. People looked so small. The air was clear, and on a cloudless night like this he had a great view of the evening sun. He carefully clambered up the crumbling slope of the roof, avoiding tiles he knew were loose. Found a good spot beside the chimney, and sat down to eat his dinner. The cereal was stale, but that didn't make it taste much different. He still felt good. It was a good night.

Youko held her head in her hands as she pored over Nijimura's tests. A half-drunk coffee sat beside her on her staffroom desk, going cold, and the answer sheets she was copying off were spread out in front of her. She didn't need them very much, though-- Nijimura hadn't even answered half the questions, and what he had attempted was often obviously wrong.

Right now, she was parsing through a maths problem, a frustrated scribble of algebra where he kept getting the answer 1= -1 and starting over. She was trying to discern what his final answer had been. It didn't seem like he had one.

"Working hard, Ono-san?"

Youko darted her head up at the sharp sound of footsteps entering the room-- Nakano-sensei. He smiled at her, dropping an armful of books down on his desk.

"Please don't let me interrupt you. You looked like you were focusing intensely." He peered down at her desk, frowning. "Do you usually teach maths? I thought they only had you on the psychology class."

"Psychology and classical Japanese." She corrected, returning his smile tiredly. "But this is for one of my counselling kids."

"Ah. I guess being the counsellor isn't as easy as it seems."

"No." She sighed. She turned the page of the test, only to find the entire next one blank. "This one's having a lot of trouble with school. I was hoping I could just give him the resources to catch up, but he's so far behind where he needs to be... I'll have to talk with his teachers about giving him extra assistance in class, maybe some easier assignments-"

"Don't you think that's a lot to ask?" Nakano said. The mood seemed to shift all of a sudden, air colder. Youko looked up at him with a frown.

"Well, it's really the minimum that he needs-"

"But you want all of them to make a whole new curriculum just for him? And give him special attention in class, write up new assignments..?" He gesticulated in emphasis, voice sharp. "I know you haven't been here that long, Ono-san, but even you have to realise that'd be unreasonable. We're all stretched pretty thin here already-- you can't ask people to work twice as hard just for one bad student."

Youko blinked at him, taken aback. Her shoulders rose defensively.

"I know it'd be inconvenient, but I can't suggest anything else. They don't want him to act out, but he's only doing that because he can't succeed. If he had more of a chance-"

"Even if they make things easier for him, what will he do in his final exams?" Nakano cut in. "Will you beg the state to make those easier for him too? And then what will he do in university? Do you really think he'll amount to anything?"

Youko bit her tongue, face set into a hard look-- but she didn't know what to say. She had nothing.

Nakano sighed, dropping the frown off his face for something softer. He looked at her, at the work she was doing, and shook his head.

"Look, I don't want to be harsh. I know this is something important to you, and it's nice you're taking your job seriously. But you can't be naive. We have two thousand kids at this school who need us-- you can't waste your time on the hopeless ones."

Youko clenched her fists in her lap, fierce burning seizing her chest and putting a lump in her throat. She blinked harshly at him, taking a breath through her nose.

"Then what is he supposed to do?" She tried to keep her voice from straining, from rising. "If I don't help him, and if they don't help him, what is he supposed to do?"

Nakano watched her for a long moment, mouth pressed into a line, then just shrugged.
"That's not for us to worry about."

Okuyasu couldn't stop chewing his knuckles as they made their way down to the guidance counsellor, moving against the flow of the crowd in a way that made others glare. Josuke held his hand so he didn't lose him; when they finally reached an empty hall, though, he didn't let go. Okuyasu took comfort in that little grace.

"S'just around the corner from here." Josuke said. His hand was large and calloused, fraying brown bandaid on the thumb. When he smiled at him, his eyes lit up like fireflies. "It's so annoying how she always moves it around, right? Like, just pick a spot."

"Yeah." Okuyasu chuckled. It wasn't really that funny-- Ono probably had her reasons for switching rooms, and he didn't like to assume the worst --but he liked Josuke, enough to laugh when he knew he was meant to. It didn't hurt that it always made Josuke smile wider.

"Just don't fuck around in there. You don't gotta give her your whole life story, okay?" He nudged him, flashing a teasing grin. "Yukako's gonna ditch us if we take too long, and I don't wanna deal with her bitching later. Y'know what she's like."

"Yeah." Okuyasu swallowed dryly. "Well... I might take a while. Got a lot to discuss. I think. You don't gotta wait up for me."

He'd dropped his gaze, so he didn't see Josuke's expression, but he felt his hand tighten around his. Josuke leant into his peripheral vision, just a smudge.

"Hey," it was gentle, and drew Okuyasu's eyes. His face had that soft look, all fair-eyed and pressed-lip, that Okuyasu had always imagined his mother might've made. Something caught and thudded in his chest.

"You all good?" Josuke's eyes searched him. They'd stopped, and now he faced him properly, free hand on his arm.

Okuyasu clenched his fist at his side. Let it go. He tried to keep his gaze on Josuke's face, but it was getting tricky. "Yeah. 'M all good. Just... didn't do that good on those tests. Not really ready to cop shit about it."

"You'll be okay." Josuke rubbed his shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "You already know you're dumb, right? What's the worst she can say to you?"

"I can think of some pretty bad shit..."

"Well, you've already heard it from yourself then." Josuke cupped his cheek and bumped their heads together, quick and smooth, before letting him go. He gestured to the door behind him. "This is the room. I'll wait right here, 'kay? And," more sincerely, "look, if you feel like crap afterwards an' just wanna go home, that's cool, alright? I'll make up some excuse for Yukako. S'no stress."

Okuyasu scratched his neck, shoulders hunching. "I don't really wanna bail on you again, man. It's probably annoying."

"It's not." Josuke said, looking him clear in the eye. "I don't mind at all. Now, you've gotta get your ass in there, don't ya?" And like that, the smile was back. "In an' out, bro. You've got this."

Okuyasu nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening his spine before finally opening the door.

Ono greeted him as usual with a perfunctory smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she watched him take his seat. Her hand scribbled unconsciously at that little notepad-- Okuyasu didn't want to think about what might be written there. It couldn't be good.

"Good to see you again. I'm surprised you got all that work done so quickly! You really didn't have to." Ono said. Okuyasu gave some sort of half-laugh, and she hummed, reaching for her bag. "I'm glad that you're serious about this, Nijimura-san. Now-"

"Um-" Okuyasu grimaced-- he'd inadvertently interrupted her. "You can... just call me Okuyasu, y'know. Feels weird being all formal."

Ono paused. "Oh. Of course. Okuyasu-san, then." She cocked a smile. "I suppose since you haven't been to school before, you're used to Nijimura-san being your father."

Okuyasu didn't remember ever hearing his dad called by name. He nodded, wry smile to meet her own.

"Well then, Okuyasu-san," Ono pulled out the stack of tests from her bag, splaying them out, "I corrected your tests."

She let the thought hang pensively there, hands hovered above the papers. Okuyasu took one quick glance at them and had to look away-- a lot of crosses. Too many. Even he hadn't thought it was so bad.

"So... let's start with your kanji." Flipping it up to the top of the pile, she spun it to face him. Two neat columns of printed characters, next to little boxes for the Chinese readings, Japanese readings, and meanings. She tapped at it. "Because I feel this could be where a lot of the trouble lies. Do you know what reading level you're at?"

Okuyasu shook his head.

"Well, based on this, you know about two-hundred and sixty kanji right now."

It sounded like a grand number. He was almost impressed with himself. But Ono was looking at him with her brows furrow, mouth pulled thin-- he winced, and bit the bullet.

"How much am I s'posed to know?"

He heard Ono take a breath before responding.

"Around a thousand." Then, quieter, she added "You've learnt them out of order, but you're around the level of a second-grader."

Something seized in his chest. Okuyasu dug his nails into his palms, teeth grinding, and as tears started dripping from his eyes he spat-

"That's bullshit!"

"It's not your fault." Ono said, but he wasn't listening, couldn't listen. He could barely even think through the roar in his head.

"But it's not fuckin' fair! I studied so hard for that! Y'know how hard it is to learn all those stupid characters? How is two-hundred an' sixty not good enough?"

"Okuyasu-san, let's calm down."

"But it's fuckin' stupid!" He hiccupped, scrubbing his face against his sleeve. He wanted to explode. Furiously, he smacked his fists into his head, clenching his eyes shut. Ono sat silently and watched him-- it only made him feel more like a moron.

"Just..." He sniffed, dropping his hands into his lap. Calm down. Shuddery breath. "I'm such a fuckin' idiot. I can't even read. An' I thought I wasn't even meant'ta know all those, y'know? Like a buncha them were just for doctors an' shit. Thought I was maybe like... thirty characters behind everyone else. Or fifty." He stared at the ground, wiping a few stray tears off his cheeks. "I can't catch up on all that, can I? Not when they keep teachin' new ones. Even someone who wasn't dumb would probably struggle."

Ono didn't respond. When he chanced a glance up at her, he found her contemplating the desk, softly chewing on the end of her pencil. She looked up at him, and he dropped his eyes again.

"Well..." She sighed, grabbing another test. "Well, kanji is one thing to think about. Of course, it's caused trouble for you in classical Japanese," she tossed it down-- a zero-percent score --and flicked through another, "and in Japanese, humanities... well, everything but maths, you're getting marked down for using hiragana instead." She paused, English test beside her hand. "Have you learnt any English at all?"

Okuyasu cringed into himself. "Started picking some up..."

"Okay." Ono tapped her pencil against the desk, cheek in her hand. "Okay."

Silence reigned for a moment. Okuyasu stared at the ground, breath shallowing, static in his skin all livewiring down to his hands, expelled in the starburst-flick of his fingers. In and out, in and out. Finally, Ono spoke.

"Okuyasu-san, why did your brother homeschool you?"

He looked up at her in surprise. Ono... wasn't glaring-- rather, she looked weary. Her pencil spun between two fingers.

"Why..? Uh..." He bit his cheek, ran his tongue over his teeth. "Well, he always used'ta say I was too dumb for school." It came on a laugh. "But... I dunno. I guess since we were so young, maybe he didn't know how to enrol me. I mean, I had'ta dig up all kindsa weird documents to sign up here..."

"How old is your brother?" Ono said sharply. The pencil stilled. "I thought he was looking after you."

"He was." Okuyasu shrunk a little at her tone, hands growing flightier. "Since we were... four an' seven. So, I guess he was probably eight when I was supposed'ta start school. I dunno where we were back then..."

Ono was staring at him. He couldn't quite discern the look on her face, but it was making his skin crawl.

"So you were that age when your father got sick..?" She pulled something between a scowl and a grimace, furrows on her forehead. "Who was looking after you?"

"My brother."

Ono stared. "But he was seven."

He nodded.

"Then who was looking after him!?"

Okuyasu blinked at her, confused. "Noone. I already said it was just us two, didn't I?"

"But-" Ono looked like she wanted to argue, but with a glance at the clock, she gave in, jaw clenched. "That's... We'll have to discuss all that another time. Let's go over your study plan before the next person comes in, okay?"

"Huh?" He frowned, cocking his head at her. "Thought you said I was way too dumb to catch up."

"I definitely didn't say that."

Shuffling the tests aside, Ono hoisted a canvas bag up from behind the desk, dropping it with a thump. Okuyasu peered inside as she started shuffling through it, drawing out various items for display.

"These are some lower-level schoolbooks. They'll help to bridge the gaps in your knowledge, and hopefully you'll gain reading recognition in some of the kanji you haven't learnt."

The books were thin and brightly-coloured, titles emblazoned in bubble font with furigana printed above. Okuyasu curled his lip.

"Ain't these for little kids?"

"There's nothing wrong with that." She slid the last item out-- a plain, rectangular box. "And I'm lending you one of my kanji flashcard sets as well. Please take good care of it. They're expensive."

Okuyasu nodded carefully, keeping eye contact to try show he was listening. Ono smiled, packing everything back into the bag.

"So just do your best to study at home, and whenever you come see me, you can tell me how you're doing and ask any questions you might have."

She slid the bag over to him, but he hesitated on accepting it, hand wavering over the straps.

"'Zat all?" He looked up at her. "I gotta just study by myself?" He flinched, rubbing his hands. "I mean, I dunno why but I just thought... I dunno. Something big would happen." His voice petered out as it went, ending quiet. "But I'm not that smart, y'know, so..."

Ono pursed her lips, fingers tapping against the desk. A glance at the bag, then back at him.

"I'm s-"

She stopped herself. Took a breath. Her face seemed to shift to something lighter.

"Um, if you don't mind staying in at lunch, maybe I could try tutor you then." She gave him a smile. "In the meantime, I'll... I'll talk to your teachers, and see if there's any ways they can make class easier for you. Let's do our best, Okuyasu-san."

A knock rang out, drawing both their attention. Ono waved him off, and with a surge of relief, he grabbed the bag and bolted out the door. Things were okay-- he couldn't keep from grinning. Things were okay, and they were only going to get better from here.

Chapter Text

Kira Yoshikage had escaped. Josuke stood out in the crowded street, sun hammering down on his neck, fists clenched, and he just kept thinking it: Kira escaped. He was right there, right in front of him, a hair away-- and now he was gone. And three more people-

He took a breath. Another one. Shallow, but increasingly filling, forcing his lungs to stretch against the constriction of his ribs. Push it away. Turning around, he checked the group over, Crazy Diamond hovering at his shoulders.

"Is everyone okay? Noone got hurt back there?"

Okuyasu was the only one to spare him a glance. Arms folded around himself, hands twisting his jacket sleeves. He shook his head. Maybe it was the sun, but he was blinking rapidly, brows drawn and forehead crinkled. Behind him, Jotaro was staring blankly at the crowd, impassive as always. And Koichi-

Koichi was-

Josuke inhaled. Koichi was fine. Shaking, hoarse, with snot and tears dribbling down his quivering lips, but he was on his feet. Okay. Josuke had healed him. He was fine.

"What do we do now..?" After how much he'd just been screaming ('Get out here, Kira!', ‘You coward!', 'You monster!'), there was an odd emptiness in hearing Koichi speak so quiet. He turned to Josuke, face wrung with despair. "I messed it up so bad, we could've caught him if-"

"There's no use dwelling on it." Jotaro's voice cut in, cool and steely. They all looked up at him-- he didn't look back. "Just learn for next time." As if to close the lid on that topic, he turned away, walking back towards Salon Cinderella. "It's late. I'll drive you all home."

Josuke wanted to protest that there were other, if longer, ways back to wherever Jotaro had parked-- routes that didn't require them to walk back through the scene inside the store. But the words died in his head, lips too numb to form them. He was all too numb, pulling away, vision blackening around the edges-

He dug his nails into his palms. Looked around. They were almost through the salon-- Jotaro's shoes had trailed bloody footprints in front of-

What did he have to do when he got home? English, history, maths... he had an English test in two days on that passage they'd read. Imports and exports, something about the Dutch, or maybe the Portugese, back when the country first opened. What was the vocab? Jotaro reached for the front door handle, and in the corner of his eye he could see the dead stranger in the mirror-

'To import', present tense. 'To be imported', past. Or was it 'to have been imported'? 'To have imported?' 'To... was imported'? He tried to run through his conjugations in his head. They were passing through the door now. 'I am'. 'I was'. 'I have been'. 'I will be'. ...There were twelve verb tenses. Three people had died today. Three, and add Shigechi, and before Kira there was Keichou and-

'I am'.

'I was'.

He took a breath. He couldnt feel his palms.

'I am'.

And Koichi and Jotaro almost-

'I was'. 'I am'. 'I been'. 'I have-'

When he'd run around that corner he'd thought-

'I HAVE BE'. 'I WILL BE'. 'I AM BE'. 'I WAS'.

"You okay, man?"

Josuke took a shuddering breath, hardly shifting his caving chest. Some vague area where his arm was supposed to be was prickling-- he glanced down, found Okuyasu gripping his shoulder. Looked up to meet his frowning face. Josuke focused on the details of it, the little scars and sun-marks. His downturned lashes. He breathed, felt himself come down a little. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around Okuyasu's waist and healed him; there was nothing to fix, but it helped. It helped to think he did something.

"Just pissed off." He mumbled. He'd been scowling so deep his forehead ached-- he tried to drop it. "But y'know, we'll- we'll find him eventually."

Okuyasu nodded. "Yeah. And when we do, we'll beat that fucker into the ground, right?"

Josuke hummed.

"I'll kill him." Okuyasu said sincerely. He didn't follow that up. Josuke wasn't sure if he wanted him to.

But he understood.

Jotaro's car was parked just around the corner from Centipede Shoes, looking almost ludicrous in how untouched and normal it was. Just sitting there, sunshield on the windscreen and tyres slightly crooked, besides the blown-out husk of the store, beside the rubble, beside-

Josuke hadn't gotten a good look at the store owner when they ran in. And he didn't remember him. He didn't remember what he'd looked like. He held Okuyasu close, adrenaline of their sprint coming back, a phantom tingling in his limbs and nausea in his guts. But he didn't remember it. He didn't see anything. He sat down in the car, gripping the doorhandle. The shoestore disappeared behind them, but he still felt like he was barrelling towards it.

Silence reigned as Jotaro merged out of the busy main street, just a turn away from his house now. It was such a stupidly short distance to drive. Josuke figured what Jotaro had been thinking-- that Kira was still close by, painting targets on all their backs, and while they were all so tired it was better to play it safe. But he'd seen crashes before. Cars crumpled like aluminium balls. If Kira planted a bomb on the road-

"Josuke." Jotaro turned back to look at him. "I said we're here."

Josuke blinked, swallowed, looked around.

"Oh."

He got out, held the door for Okuyasu. Koichi stayed curled in place, schoolbag at his feet-- timidly, he waved goodbye. And Josuke stared at him. And Jotaro's fingers tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, and he cleared his throat, and Josuke still stood there frozen, door held ajar. If he shut it, they'd both drive away. Something seized in his chest at the thought, a stabbing and sinking like he was in hypothermic waters, and as he ran around the corner into the alleyway he couldn't see them. There was nothing but red.

"Dude, let'em go."

Okuyasu pried the doorhandle from his grip. When the door slammed shut, he felt it vibrate all the way into his bones. Jotaro rolled down the window to give them his final words.

"I know you're angry, but don't do anything stupid. You need to be responsible."

Josuke felt plenty responsible. He watched them leave, and he tried to breathe but it was getting bad. He was slipping out of his skin, and Okuyasu's cold half-hug barely helped this time.

"Hey, I..." Okuyasu faltered. If he made a face, Josuke didn't perceive it. "I don't- really wanna study tonight anymore. If that's cool." A car drove past them, sound surging like an ocean crash. His mum's car was parked in front of them. He'd just noticed. "We could just hang out if ya want, but s'cool if you need some space right now."

Josuke tensed against him. "What?"

"Just... today was really bad. An' everyone's kinda taking it hard-"

"I'm not taking it hard." It came out sharp, a growl that crawled up his throat like regurgitated molasses. He didn't mean to sound like that. "I'm fine. I'm totally good. S'not like I got hurt back there."

"You're shaking, dude." And Okuyasu's concerned gaze got through to him, and he swallowed a breath, and he was right-- he was shaking all over.

Okuyasu squeezed his shoulder, then let him go. Small smile. Josuke would've done anything for him to stay.

"I'll see ya tomorrow."

And he left. Josuke stared at the empty space he'd made for far too long, until he'd gathered himself enough to head inside. Calm down. Breathe. He slipped one shoe off, and then the other. Lined every shoe in the entrance hall up, perfectly straight, and then with a smack knocked them everywhere. Breathe. He couldn't still himself. He wasn't breathing. He was on the stairs, and his mum yelled out to him-- 'Where have you been?', maybe, or 'I hope you're going to do your homework!'. He didn't know if he replied. He was in his bedroom. He was in the living room reading magazines and the phone started to ring, and he was in the living room kneeling down, and he was in an alleyway he'd never seen before, tripping over rubble, and something in the back of his mind said he'd live this second forever.

And there was nothing but red.

He had to ground himself. Had to do something. Where was his body? Maybe he left it next to the dead man in Aya's salon-- maybe an explosion was ringing in its ears, maybe it was stumbling through a wrecked kitchenette and the phone was hanging off the hook beside the hole in the wall, and he'd dropped the phone in the living room when he ran, and he thought he'd been too late because he couldn't even see them.

And he could see right through Koichi's body. A clear shot, fragments of tissue spattered on the cherry concrete, and that's what he'd been thinking to stay focused-- cherry syrup at the festival last summer, when his mum bought him shaved ice, and his old blue yukata wouldn't make it down to his ankles anymore, but they didn't buy another one-

If he let himself feel fear, he'd end up healing them wrong.

And he could've healed Aya. She was right at his fingers. The gash wasn't even that bad, not as bad as how Jotaro looked, this time, that time, and he always thought it was so unfair that Jotaro wore white, when every stain blazed on it like a wildfire. And Koichi was glistening, uniform soaked, and he couldn't recognise his smashed-in face-

And he'd just been in the living room. What were those shoes he wanted to buy? He'd healed Koichi. Okuyasu was screaming that he wouldn't wake up, but he'd HEALED HIM. And it'd just take a little time, wouldn't it? They always had to line up for the popular rides. He was six years old. His grandpa held his hand so he wouldn't get lost in the crowd. And Josuke looked down at him, at his lifeless corpse, and knew that even in this he had failed him.

His whole body heaved, and he vomited onto the floor.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. This was bad, this was so much worse than it should've been, and Josuke didn't know how he was going to come back down. Breathe. The taste of bile on his teeth wasn't pulling him together, it was just making things worse-- he wanted to throw up again. He did. Crazy Diamond enveloped him, and his body moved on its own, straightened, crossed the room. He'd break his desk, he'd done it a thousand times. Swing his fists down and it'd splinter, toothpicks, and it'd twist itself back into an approximate stance and then he'd break it again. He raised his arm. Kira was crawling at his feet. This time he wouldn't stop short of murder.

Electricity crackled down his arms, pink and gold, a fuse so close to sparked, and he wanted to shut off his mind and just explode. Just let it all out until there was nothing left to break, until the Kira in his mind was no longer recognisable as a person. But whatever small slip of him remained in his head made him freeze, muscles taut like readied snares. Mum was downstairs. Mum was downstairs, and if he broke something she'd yell at him. Even if he could fix it, she never understood, it was never okay to her and he wanted to scream. Swung his arm aimlessly through the air, and the boiling acid in his stomach only burnt him more. He sunk his teeth into his hand. Tore his jacket off. Flesh burst to life again under his nails, rivers carved through arid land, and there was blood in his mouth, blood dripping off his elbows, but it was fixing him. He was calming down. He was okay, just had to breathe, just had to do this. Break something that didn't matter. And the static finally cleared from his mind.

Josuke shivered. Drew air like it was for the first time. Slowly, he dropped his arms to his sides, looked around the room until he really felt that he was standing in it, that he wasn't about to leave. Okay. He was okay. It was all out of his system. Hands still trembling, he grabbed a fistful of tissues and dabbed his arms dry. Threw on a long-sleeve top, cleaned the floor. Breathed. Mum would be calling him down for dinner in a bit, and after the long day she'd had, the last thing she needed was for him to be a problem.

Okuyasu wished he could've stayed. It was a lifetime of a walk, from Josuke's house to his, every step reverbating up through his joints like a concrete heartbeat. He could taste something in the air-- had, ever since Josuke had burst through his door that afternoon. It was something old and familiar he couldn't place. Like dirt and iron.

It reminded him of Keichou.

He slipped through his front door, and the heaviness of the house settled on his shoulders. Josuke had fixed the bullet-holes in the walls a long time ago, but gunsmoke still hung in the air. Always. Clouded up the filtered light and made his lungs feel shallower than they should've been. And after... today... it wasn't welcome. He stayed long enough to change his clothes before exiting out onto the back porch for a smoke.

The backyard was a weedy mess, but he'd been working on it. Every few days, he put in an hour or so wrenching weeds up by their roots-- and the next morning, Josuke healed his blistered, bloodied fingers. Always. Okuyasu carried no fantasies that this would one day be a garden, but he hoped it'd at least be nice.

Sitting on the hot ridged wood, with his legs hanging into the long grass, he lit a cigarette. The warm, clear taste of tobacco reminded him of Keichou too. Lately, it also reminded him of Josuke.

He let his mind go empty, thoughts drifting in and out like passing ships, calm as the sea. Drew on his cigarette, blew smoke. He wished Josuke was there. Wanted to hold him-- the look on his face had been so disturbing, when he'd left. He'd never seen him so shaken. That probably meant Kira was a big deal, but somehow Okuyasu didn't feel afraid. It just didn't feel real, too distant and vague, like graduation or getting a job. Or what happened to Keichou. Huh, he'd been thinking about him a lot lately. It must've been that taste in the air.

He inhaled again, the last of the nub, and squashed it out. Clean outdoor air filled his lungs now, taste of sun and distant sea. But always with that tinge. He stared at the bugs flitting across the overgrown lawn-- could probably cut that with The Hand, when he was free --and rolled the taste over and over behind his teeth. Incense. Smoke. Pain. Death: that was it. It was the taste of death, thick and rotten. He lit another cigarette, drowning out the thought.

It started to grow dim, cicadas screeching, but even when he finished smoking he felt disinclined to move. The porch was still warm-- he lay out on his stomach, eyes half-shut, head nestled into his folded arms. The bugs sounded nice. They filled his head. The sun was pretty, and his chest felt light and full. He'd unboarded all the windows in the house now, but the air still filtered badly. When he'd burnt incense for the altar (two weeks ago, if he remembered right), the stench of patchouli had clung to everything for days, making him sick. It still wasn't quite gone. And he'd washed the walls and floors where blood had been shed, but that still wasn't gone either.

Oppressive weight on his back. Okuyasu squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists and flicked his fingers, over and over. A sudden spell of vertigo hit, and he felt like the house was leaning over him, about to fall. He slid himself upright, limbs like lead, and clambered down into the grass. Mosquitos were gonna bite him, but he didn't care. Laying on his back in the middle of the field, he stared up at the dawning stars. His body was sinking into the ground, stitched down by blades of grass-- but when he stared up, he almost felt he could fall into the sky. Fall forever. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Deep breaths. He fumbled for another cigarette-- his stomach was beginning to ache, but he didn't want to go eat. All they had were cans... oh. No, he'd forgotten to go shopping again. For the fourth day in a row. There were no more cans. There might not be anything. He'd given cold, dry noodles to his dad last night and had nothing for dinner himself.

But the sky was looking nice. The nicotine felt good, and fireflies were circling above him. That was good, right? He felt good. Life wasn't so bad if you looked in the right direction. Finishing his cigarette, he went to stub it out, then remembered he was in the grass. He tossed it up into the air, swiping it into nothing with The Hand. It was dark now. Maybe he'd go to sleep.

Something creaked in the distance, and immediately Okuyasu was alert. He tensed, breath bated, eyes darting wildly above him. Soft thump, rustling-- footsteps. Footsteps in the grass. Footsteps coming towards him-- could he hide? Here? It was his dad-- he knew it was his dad, and he wanted to get up and run but he was frozen. A shadow loomed over him, misshapen, bulging eyes searching around until they found him. It was just his dad. Okuyasu forced himself upright, breath short all of a sudden, hands cold and clammy. Just his dad. Just his dad coming to find them.

"Hey."

His dad stared at him cautiously, arms curled up at his chest. Cracked lips parting, he let out a burbling groan. Okuyasu smiled, cheeks aching.

"Sorry, um. It's late, huh? I'll- uh, I think we're out of food. Maybe I can go to the convenience store or somethin'." He gauged the time off the sky. "Everything else is probably closed now. You- you wanna come along?"

A pause. His dad made some kind of wheezing sound, then nodded. Okuyasu took a sharp breath, pushing to his feet and taking his hand.

"'Kay. We'll- we'll go get our shoes on. You wanna coat? S'kinda cold now. I can get you a coat." He shivered. His father's skin was squishy, coated in sludge. It felt like it'd fall apart beneath his grip. "I'll- I'll grab you one. An' me. Gotta get cash from upstairs anyway. So- yeah. Grab us coats too."

The convenience store wasn't a long walk away. He bought a dozen onigiri, two milk teas, and Shonen Jump-- Keichou would've screamed at him if he was around, flashing their bank balance in his face and scorning him for wasting a cent of it. But Okuyasu had started budgeting, and even with a few frivolous purchases, he could live just fine until he graduated and got a job. They both could've. All their lives. But it was too late to feel upset about it now.

He lit a candle when they got home, and they sat and ate dinner together.

(The kid's face was blown to bits-- the Nijimura boy. Josuke tried not to look at it, tried not to see. Part of his mind was still back there in the house, with the bullets and the blood and Koichi-

Fast as possible. He didn't have time. He needed to be as fast as possible.

So he didn't look at Nijimura Okuyasu. Didn't see. Just felt his bloodied face below his hands, hot dry air in his chest, heart slowing down. Like he'd always done. Fix it. And the electricity crackled through his palms, into the mangled, pallid boy he knelt beside. Shredded flesh stitched back together, blood filled his cheeks-- he had to live. This one had to live.

When Okuyasu opened his eyes, it pierced Josuke with a shard of hope.)

It was god-knows-what-time when Josuke rapped against his window-frame, perched wobbily on the ledge like an overgrown bird. Okuyasu, on the floor on his futon, rolled over, and shot him a questioning squint.

"Dude." Groggily, he rubbed his eyes. Sat upright, as Josuke let himself inside. "Wassup? It's way too fuckin' late, man."

"Oh." Josuke must've gotten straight out of bed to come here-- his hair was down, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. Awkwardly, he hovered by the window, until Okuyasu patted the spot beside him. They wasted no time in curling together.

"I just wanted to hang out." Josuke plucked at the fraying threads of the thin blanket; idly, Crazy Diamond's hand stretched past his own, fixing all the seams. He glanced aside, arm shifting on Okuyasu's waist. "You said you wanted to hang, right?"

Okuyasu scrunched up his face. "Yeah, like... eight hours ago. 'M trying ta sleep now."

"Oh." Josuke didn't offer more than that.

A long silence passed. Okuyasu leant his head into his shoulder, feeling the hot thrum of his skin; he watched him stare around the room, as if waiting for something. Long thick fingers fidgeting with his sleeve.

"We could..." Slow breath-- something was off with him. Okuyasu straightened, scrutinising his face. "We could- I could- We could study. Um. You can go to sleep, an' I'll... recite history stuff. Or something."

"You okay?"

"Huh?" Josuke looked at him vacantly. Okuyasu cupped his face, checking him.

"Yer not, like... on somethin', are you?"

"What!? No!" Josuke pushed him off. "The fuck kinda guy do you think I am? You think I'd do that to- like, like I have my mum to worry about. You think I'd fuck over my mum like that?"

"Sorry." He flinched back, lowering his gaze. Josuke's eyes looked fine-- focused enough, now, pupils normal. He was probably just sleepy or something. "Just... been places where people do that shit. Kinda forget it's not..."

A pause. After a while, Josuke sighed. Shook his head, and pulled him in tight.

"Nah. I'm sorry." He said it quiet, lips right by his ear. Okuyasu swallowed. "I'm just... I'm tired, I guess. Wanted to- to check up on you. After today. But I'm kinda all over the place."

"S'alright." Okuyasu wrapped his arms around him, felt him relax. He might've been starting to understand why Josuke had come.

"Y'wanna stay over?" He murmured. He threaded his fingers through Josuke's hair-- it was kind of greasy.

Josuke hummed. "I dunno. Got all my shit at my place. An' I think my mum would be pissed."

"I can wake ya up real early. So you can sneak back."

Josuke made a noncommittal sound. Okuyasu hesitated before adding,

"And... I really want you here."

Josuke's fingers tensed against his back. Curled, then bunched up into his shirt, tugging him down as the both of them tumbled onto the bed. Okuyasu gripped him, heart beating wildly, and felt his eyelashes against his throat.

"'M too tired to walk back, anyway." Shuddering breath. Josuke's legs tangled into his. "So... if you need me that bad..."

"Yeah." Okuyasu rasped. Oh god. He wanted to kiss him.

Bundled up under the covers together, he threw himself into an aching sleep.

It was warm. Cold outside, but he was warm, wrapped in the blankets and his arms. Safe, for once. The mattress was thin underneath them, barely cushioning their bones, and his stomach growled-- he curled into his chest a little tighter, breathing in his comforting scent. It would be morning soon.

A muffled thump. Okuyasu stiffened, resisting the urge to open his eyes. Go away. A sludgy scrape, flesh sloughing on concrete-- go away. It wasn't there. He held his breath until he couldn't anymore, sucked in air slowly between his gappy teeth. Warm safe hold onto it. Morning soon. Ignore the rotting smell. Above him, the creature was breathing now, a throaty death rattle. Something dripped onto his head. Slowly, he cracked open his eyes, met the decomposing face of the thing that was once their father.

It wasn't real. He shut his eyes it wasn't real. It hadn't found them again. With a silent, open-mouthed sob, he curled into Keichou's skin. Prayed he'd get up to attack it soon.

"Shhh... s'okay."

He woke up. Summer heat, sweat-drenched skin-- face buried in Josuke's shirt, choking out a sob. His chest heaved, stiff and shaking; Josuke squeezed him close. Mouth against the line of his hair, he kept on mumbling.

"S'okay. You're okay. I'm here."

On a thin breath, Josuke kissed him. Okuyasu's throat caught-- he opened his eyes wide, felt Josuke kiss him again. Heart bursting in his chest, he tugged himself up and pressed their mouths together.

It was short, too short. Josuke's scent overwhelmed him, mixed with salt and adrenaline and the clear white air of coming dawn. A second later, Josuke pushed him away. Met his eyes, dark and pained and frightened. Suddenly, Okuyasu felt sick.

"I'm sorry!"

Josuke sat up, and Okuyasu scrambled to his knees, desperately trying to catch his eye.

"I'm sorry, I thought- I just- s'cos we're always..." He watched Josuke climb out of the bed and march robotically to the window, lungs seizing. "I wasn't thinking. Y'know I'm fuckin' dumb, I misunderstood and-" he was crying for a different reason now, "I didn't- don't let me fuck things up. I really like you."

Josuke froze. Hands resting on the windowsill, ready to hoist himself up. He glanced back over his shoulder, face wrung with doubt.

"It's-" he winced, turning his head away, "It's cool. Let's just forget it ever happened, okay? I'm gonna go home now."

And tacked on, as if he almost hadn't said it,

"I'm sorry."

He left, and Okuyasu wished he'd just hit him. At least then, he would've understood what it meant.

(He'd thought he was going to die. Felt explosions in his head, past his shot-out eardrums; felt his back hit the ground. Josuke had got to him. And now-- hands above his face, electric spark --he was going to kill him. He was going to finish him off.

But Okuyasu woke up in the grass outside his house, and he felt fine. Sun in his eyes. Breeze in his ears. Josuke looked down at him with an unreadable expression, hot hands still cupping his cheeks-- he was struck by it. The sun beat down above them, but for one moment Josuke's head shielded his own.

Oh. He was nice.)

Josuke sat slumped at his dresser, starting over on his pompadour for the third time that morning. It wouldn't work. He just couldn't make it work. His hands fumbled with the tangled locks of hair, ineffectual, stumbling and groping like a drunk. All muscle memory gone, stripped back to when he was six years old and tried doing it himself for the first time. He'd looked at the wreck in the mirror, back then, and sat there and cried. And then his mum came in to fix it.

"Josuke, are you still not dressed?"

His mum pushed open the door, frowning down at him, hand on her hip. Josuke met her gaze, past loose strands hanging down from his half-pinned pomp; he gave an apologetic shrug.

"Bad hair day."

She sighed, stepping in. "You can ask me for help, you know."

Without waiting for a response, she came to stand behind him, and set to work undoing his attempt. Josuke watched her careful hands work in the mirror, firm but gentle, practiced. He leant into her touch, letting his eyes fall shut.

His mum swept a hand over his forehead, gathering the hair there to pull it up. A still second passed. She stroked his cheek.

"You doing okay?"

"Huh?" Josuke blinked up at her. "Yeah. 'Course."

She hummed discontentedly, and he scoffed.

"What? I screw my hair up once, and suddenly-"

"I can tell you're upset about something." As she talked, her hands kept working, almost without her notice. A lock of hair she'd just gelled fell from its place. She sighed. "You were so quiet yesterday. I haven't seen you like that since-" a pause, just for a second, "you know. Since your grandpa died."

Josuke took in a slow, steadying breath. His fingers dug into his thighs.

"Was it something that happened at school?" She reached halfway for the hairspray can, then froze. "Are they harassing you again?"

His gaze darted to her. "Um-"

"I swear to god, if they're still going on about that- what was it? You 'lit a bomb'?" She laughed, sharp and humourless. "Are they for real?"

"Yeah. 'S dumb."

"As if you would ever do something like that." She tugged his hair harshly into place, making him wince. On realising, she relaxed her grip. "I'm so sick of them making up stories, acting like you're some kind of monster. I'm your mother. I know what you're like."

She finished up with his hair, examining him in the mirror as she tucked the last few strands into place. All done. She met his eyes and sighed.

"I just wish they could see what I see."

Josuke smoothed a hand over his hair, gaze lowered.

"Thanks for... fixing it up for me." He rose from his seat, tucking his comb and parter in his pocket. His mum smiled.

"Of course! Gotta look after my baby." Clapping a hand on his back, she herded him towards the door-- any sentimentality had faded. "Now get your ass downstairs and eat already! You're going to be late."

"Yeah, yeah." Josuke said, and he knew that he wouldn't.

By the time the knock came on the door he was ready to go, dishes dumped in the sink before he strode his way to the entrance. Time for school. Time to go outside to school. He stopped chewing his lip, wiped his clammy hands on his pants, and answered the door.

"Hey-" he blinked, finding nothing at eye-level, then dropped his gaze, "oh. Koichi."

Koichi raised a hand timidly. "Hi. Um, Yukako-san couldn't walk with me today, so I thought I should probably travel with you guys. Sorry I didn't call ahead..."

Josuke pointedly ignored the should.

"Nah, that's cool. We just gotta-"

Movement in his peripheral vision-- his gaze darted up, locking on Okuyasu, who was hovering stiffly at the edge of his lawn. Josuke straightened.

"Oh, nevermind. We can get going now."

He crossed the lawn in three long steps, Koichi trailing behind him. Okuyasu dropped his head as they approached, mouth set into a white-lipped grimace-- Josuke hesitated for only a second before throwing his arm around him.

"Hey, didja sleep bad or somethin'? What's with the face?" He grinned.

Okuyasu looked up at him, faltered, then gave a short blunt smile back. Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Fuckin' test today. The English one."

"Isn't it tomorrow?"

"Our class is gettin' it earlier than yours." Okuyasu pulled a face. "I'm gonna eat shit at it."

"We could help you review for it on the way to school." Koichi suggested. He looked up at Josuke. "You probably need to brush up on it too anyway, right?"

Josuke tried to remember what the test was about. He drew a blank.

"I guess."

"Okay, um..." They set off walking; Koichi hooked his thumbs behind his bag straps, face screwed up in thought. "How do you say... 'commerce' in English?"

The trip felt quicker than usual, Koichi's quizzing and the exasperation that followed breaking them all out of the heaviness of that morning. They were just getting to grammar points when they turned the corner onto Main Street.

"It doesn't make any fuckin' sense!" Okuyasu groused, batting Koichi when he giggled. "'To have been done'-- why the fuck is the 'have' there? Why's there, like, three verbs? I can't even tell what it's s'posed'ta mean."

"It's just the uh..." Koichi mentally calculated, "past continuous... passive... or something like that."

"Like '-te ita'." Josuke added.

"But that's fuckin' simple, isn't it? '-Te ita' is short. English's always gotta make it so damn complicated."

"You'll get the hang of it eventually." Koichi said, patting his arm. "Once you really start studying it's not-"

He stilled, feet shuffling to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Josuke leant past Okuyasu to look at him. Followed his wide-eyed gaze over to the shop across the street.

Salon Cinderella was dark and silent, doors blocked with strips of police tape like barbed wire at the edge of no man's land. There was no movement inside, no lights-- whatever investigation had occurred must've already wrapped up. With a lurch of his stomach, Josuke remembered that they'd been in there, in the crime scene, touching things and leaving footprints and he'd put his hands on the body-

"Make a sentence." Josuke said, breath shallow. He dragged them with him as he kept on down the street, face turned completed away from the other side of the road. "Make- um, translate this sentence. 'Fune ha porutogaru kara nihon made hashirarete ita'."

Okuyasu didn't respond.

"C'mon, man." Josuke grinned. A shard of glass pierced through his stomach. "D'ya want help? You want me to make it simpler?"

"Um-" Koichi started, but he swallowed what he might've said. His face was pallid, eyes trained weakly on his stumbling feet. "Um..."

"Okuyasu." Josuke said.

Okuyasu met his face.

"I dunno." And he was blinking too quick. "I don't fuckin' know."

Chapter Text

Youko pushed her way out of the staffroom, Amano's words still ringing heavy in her ears. Sliding the door shut, she dropped her shoulders, tried to untense. It was always a fight. It was always such a goddamn fight-

Untense. She was untensing. She set off stiffly down the hall, walking just for the sake of it. The midday sun burnt through the windows, bleaching perfect squares on the panels of the empty halls. Another scorcher-- Youko had always loved summer the most, but muggy days like these were almost enough to change her mind. Through the windows, she could see the last trailing kids making their way back up from the gym. They were sluggish, freshly-showered but already red-faced and sweating-- it was no wonder that some kids skipped class.

She wondered where Higashikata had gone.

When she rounded the next corner, she was met with a loud scuffling, a flash of a person who ducked behind the vending machine before she could get a look at their face. Youko cocked her head, slowly rounding on them.

"Okuyasu-san." Youko exclaimed, giving a small, amused smile. "You don't have to hide like that."

Okuyasu stood pressed up against the wall of the machine, arms scrunched and spine curled like his ribcage was caving in. He didn't look up at her, and her smile waned; she leant down to try meet his eye.

"Did something happen?"

Indiscretely, Okuyasu wiped at his face.

"Nah." He croaked, almost irritated. "S'nothing."

"it's not nothing if you're upset." She glanced down the hall, then back at him. "Do you want to sit down and talk about it? I'm guessing you're not going back to class, right?"

He shrugged, glaring at the floor. Youko's mouth twisted.

"You won't have to worry about being caught in the halls, at least. Come on. I'll find us a spare room."

She unlocked one of the empty classrooms at the end of the wing, an extra that hadn't been needed with the reduced cohorts these past few years. The desks were covered in dust, all pushed against the far wall with their chairs stacked on top; the window creaked when she cracked it open, paint flaking under her grip.

Okuyasu sat down against the wall, knees folded to his chest. Looking down at him now, Youko could see how red his eyes were, made worse by how he'd scrubbed at them-- she leant against the window-ledge, staring at the garden below, and gave him a minute to himself.

Eventually, Youko heard him shuffle, and glanced down to find him squinting at her, brows drawn.

"Aren't ya gonna ask me questions?"

"Do you want to talk?"

Okuyasu sniffed, fiddling with his pants leg. "I guess. Guess I should." It came as a mumble, lowering with every word. "I dunno. You probably want me to."

Youko inclined her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. From this height, Okuyasu really did look like a child.

"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," she said, kneeling down to meet him, "but it might help. And I want to support you, Okuyasu-san."

Okuyasu's eyes were suddenly sheened with tears. He ducked his head, adam's apple bobbing with a hard swallow.

"Okay." And maybe he'd meant it casual, but it came out weak and small. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, brow creasing deep along his scar lines, and took a loud breath through his mouth. Youko waited patiently, settling to a seat.

"Uh..." Okuyasu's efforts didn't stop a few tears from rolling down when he opened his eyes again. He jabbed them off with his knuckles. "S'a lotta different shit. I don't really know where to start."

"That's alright. What about..." (she decided to lowball him,) "your friends? Has anything happened with your friends?"

Josuke's spoon clinked against his plate as he lopped neatly through his slice of black forest cake, raising the little cutoff like a toast before moving it to Okuyasu's lips. The taste was rich, heavy and sweet, syrup-preserved cherries buried in a crumb more mud than sponge. It was a new one on Deux Magot's menu. Okuyasu wasn't sure how much he loved it.

"S'good." He said, and Josuke smiled, eyes crinkling heavily where bags had started to scoop out under them. He gestured to Okuyasu's plate, and, complying, Okuyasu cleaved off a bit of his tart.

He held it out, and daylight fluttered. Josuke rested a hand gently against his wrist, guiding him in, and his eyelashes wavered, like the jeweled beating wings of a dragonfly. His nails were painted, subtle, shimmering in the late-afternoon sun where they burnt their marks into Okuyasu's flesh. Josuke took the tart from him, pressed in peachwater lips, and when he spoke a flippant 'nice', it was as if through half-set resin. Okuyasu knew what it was like to kiss those lips. Pained, he tore his gaze away.

And the day kept on moving. Koichi talked about class, and Josuke brought up this-and-that, and Okuyasu ranted about his homework, and it was all so inconsequential. They'd just watched people die. Why didn't they ever talk about the people who died? But Okuyasu looked at Josuke's wearied, scarred-up face; at Koichi's flinching movements; and he felt the hollow exhaustion in himself; and he knew why. It was all too much to speak.

Behind them, a driver slammed down on their horn. Okuyasu jumped to his feet. He'd moved without even thinking, heart smashing its way out of his concaving chest, and his chair clattered behind him and it echoed in threes. Josuke glimmered pink on his left, eyes unfocused, and Koichi started to shake. Nothing. It was nothing. At the stares of everyone around them, they all sat back down. Okuyasu slid his food away an inch-- in the second they'd been on their feet, it'd congealed like rotten flesh.

Breath still hard and unsteady, Josuke slipped a trembling hand below the table. It bumped Okuyasu's knee, fumbling half-mindedly. Found his hand. Without a word, Josuke laced their fingers together, and when Okuyasu looked over at him he didn't even try to meet his gaze. Eyes glued to the tabletop, he just clung to him, and with every beat of blood in his aching heart, Okuyasu clung back.

Okuyasu hesitated for a bit too long.

"Nah. They're the same as always."

Youko frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Why're ya asking?" Okuyasu bit back. He'd curled in just slightly, teeth bared, like a cornered animal. Youko tried to soften herself.

"I've heard that Higashikata-san skipped class today. I was worried that something might be going on." She trailed off, looking away for a second. The lines on her face deepened. "Okuyasu-san, you need to look out for your friends, alright? So much can happen before you know it, and I don't want-" she faltered, "...well, I just want to make sure you stay safe. Both of you. Highschool is a stressful time for anyone, but you two have had it worse than most."

Okuyasu shrugged, eyes averted. She sighed-- she wasn't getting through to him. Oh well, she'd be seeing Higashikata later anyway.

"And how have you been?" She tried, changing tack. "Has school been going alright?"

She already knew. Things had only been getting worse, if anything-- Okuyasu was out of class as much as he was in, and he'd started picking fights with other students. Youko had overheard his teachers complaining all too many times; they were just about at their wit's end with him, and any suggestions she'd made were only met with indignation. They didn't want to make a special effort for him-- they didn't want to make an effort at all.

And for Okuyasu, that just meant that none of them were on his side.

Okuyasu responded with a laugh, short and harsh like he'd hacked it out. "Yeah. Great. S'not getting any fuckin' better."

"Have you been studying at home?" She asked, and he snapped his head up to stare at her, wide-eyed and furious.

"Yeah! Ya think I'm not fuckin' trying? I've been studying my ass off, but I still don't understand shit!"

Youko tensed. "Let's not yell."

"I'm not-" Okuyasu caught himself, face twisting before he pushed the glare right off it. He hung his head, taking a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm not tryna freak ya out or whatever..."

The words still came terse and grated, dragged through his teeth. He picked at his sleeve, unravelling a loose bit of thread.

"S'just not working. It's never gonna work. No matter how hard I try, nothing sticks in my stupid fuckin' brain. An' yer wasting all this effort on me, and my friends are too, and I'm just failing at the same shit over and over and over-" The thread snapped from its seam; He tossed it, fingers curling against his arm.

"I should just drop out, right? Go get a job doin'... whatever. I don't even know what I can do. I'm fuckin' useless."

Youko pursed her lips. Catching Okuyasu up had always been a long shot, especially on her own-- and part of her had wondered if she wasn't setting him up to fail. But what choice did they have? What else could she really do?

"You're not useless." She said, unwaveringly soft. "We haven't been doing this for very long. You're still learning. And even getting to where you're at now is incredible, okay? With the kind of upbringing you've had, even being close to a highschool level is impressive."

He turned his face away from her, but she pressed on, emphatic.

"There's so many people who wouldn't even try if they were you. There's people who are better off than you but still don't try. Regardless of how far you get, Okuyasu-san, you should be proud." Then, sincerely, "At the very least, I'll be proud of you."

Okuyasu cringed like he'd been struck. It surprised her, enough that it took her a moment to recognise his trembling as the wracking of silent sobs. Digging through her pockets, she found some crumpled tissues to hand him. Okuyasu pressed them to his face like holy cloth.

"Don't- Don't say stuff like that." His lips quavered around the words, tongue slow and hesitant to form them. His eyes stayed doggedly on the ground, below heavy brows. "I hate it."

Youko studied him carefully, fingers tapping against her bare, bent knees. In the week or so that she'd been tutoring Okuyasu, she'd noticed his tepidity to praise-- how he'd just look at her, eyes flat, and shrug off her attempts to encourage him. She'd figured it was just insecurity, but with the agitation he was showing now, she was starting to question that appraisal.

"Why do you hate it?" She asked, slow and careful.

Okuyasu sniffed. Clenched the used-up tissues in one hand, other flexing in that familiar pattern. His tendons danced and jumped underneath his smooth brown skin.

"I dunno." Shuddery breath. He turned his head away from her, bringing his fist up to his teeth. "It... it feels bad. I dunno."

He started to chew on his knuckle. She reached out to stop him, but he flinched, glaring, and just as quickly she drew away. It'd have to be something to address later. Another something. Too many. None of which she ever seemed to get to.

"What kind of bad?" She asked. "Are you annoyed, or hurt, or..?"

"I dunno." Okuyasu's voice rose the slightest, growing sharper. "It's just bad."

"Why do you think-"

"I dunno!" He snapped. His voice pitched, teetered and cracked. Okuyasu stared at her wide-eyed, teeth bared like a cornered animal. "I don't- - I'm not- - I can't-"

"That's alright."

He swallowed, threading a hand through his hair, and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore. S'making my head hurt."

"That's alright." Youko said again. It wasn't.

She knew she needed to give him space. Knew that pushing too hard would only make him clam up more. But in times like this she almost felt like she could explode-- felt like she could shake him, cry out 'Talk to me!', pry him open with tense whitening fingers until she found an answer, a problem she could solve. She wanted to do something. Anything. Because she knew all too well what happened when nobody did.

But Okuyasu didn't want to speak about it, and Youko couldn't make him. They'd save it for another day.

(Youko wondered how long they could keep kicking all these cans down the road.)

They lapsed into silence after that. Youko tried not to look at Okuyasu's knuckles, raw now, trembling with blood. If she tried to talk to him about it, she doubted he'd be receptive, right now. She needed something simple.

"Does your brother help you at home?" She said suddenly, breaking the still. "With your studying?"

Okuyasu looked at her, wide-eyed.

"He..." His mouth hung open for a moment; gaze darting, he licked his lips. "Um, didn't I... d'ya think he's..?"

He'd muttered it, as if to himself. Youko was struck by an odd flicker of dread.

"He's what?"

Okuyasu dropped his gaze to the floor, face scrunched and eyes dark. He flicked his hands out of time; a trickle of blood spilt down the back, wiggling over each jumping tendon until it dripped onto the leg of his pants. He didn't even notice.

"He- um..." He swallowed, jagged adam's apple bobbing, "Y-You won't tell anyone, right? Just... don't want people talkin' shit about him. He was a great guy."

"Of course-"

Was. The word struck her a second late, and she tensed. Was, was. Had it always been 'was'?

"I-" Youko caught herself, recovering from her falter. No use jumping to conclusions. "Well, as long as it's not something I'd be required to report, your secret's safe with me. I'm here to listen, Okuyasu-san."

Okuyasu chewed over her words, crease forming between his brows.

"Waddaya mean 'report'? Like- like if I committed a crime or some shit?"

"No, no." Youko smiled, reassuring. "It's just if you're in some kind of danger. If you were living in an unsafe environment, for example, or you were at risk of taking your life. It's really just extreme circumstances, but I need to let you know anyway."

Okuyasu stared at her like she was holding a knife to his throat. Her skin prickled at it.

"It's nothing like that, is it?"

"Who do you gotta report shit to?" He said, voice tight and small. His eyes raked over her.

"It depends on what it is..." The little dread in her chest swelled out, enveloping, crushing her from within. When she managed to lock eyes with Okuyasu, he looked away, all nervous hands and twitching knees and crooked teeth chewing on his cheek. She leant forward, hair standing on end.

"You won't be in trouble. Whatever it is, I'd only report it so I could help keep you safe. I wouldn't tell anyone that I didn't need to." He didn't reply, so she added, more urgently, "If something happened at home, I need you to tell me. I just want to help you, Okuyasu-san."

Silence. He gave a shaky breath, the slightest nod, gaze still averted. Face blank, so unlike the cacophony of emotion he usually held. He was trying not to give her anything to react to-- the realisation only made her worry more.

Youko frantically traced back over their past conversations, wishing that she had her notepad on hand to double-check. Something with his brother-- what did she know about him? He'd been raising Okuyasu since they were young-- since they were both young. Dead mother, sick father. And Okuyasu had never gone to school before this year, homeschooled by his brother instead. Since they were both young.

How had anyone let that happened?

The more Youko thought about it, the less it all made sense. She'd assumed that there were details, people, Okuyasu hadn't deigned to mention-- other relatives checking in, carers, housekeepers --but if that'd been the case, wouldn't someone have done something? Wouldn't someone have noticed, in the government at least, that in fifteen years Okuyasu had never gone to school? Was it really just him and his brother, alone?

Youko's stomach ached, cold and sinking. She should've followed up on this so much sooner, shouldn't have brushed off what he'd said. Because now something had happened to his brother, and she'd done nothing-- knew nothing --and Okuyasu...

"Okuyasu-san," Youko said, voice slow with dread, "is noone looking after you?"

Okuyasu flinched, freezing for a stiff second before opening his mouth to speak. Before he could say a word, the bell rang-- all too quick, Okuyasu shoved to his feet and fled. As he reached the door, though, Youko gathered herself and called out-

"Wait!"

Okuyasu paused, peeking back nervously. Youko tried to give him a smile.

"You're friends with Higashikata-san, aren't you?" She didn't need to ask-- they seemed to go everywhere together. "Could you tell him he needs to meet with me after school? I'm not sure if I'd be able to find him."

Okuyasu wavered, but nodded, mumbling some assent. As quickly, he shut the door, disappearing for another day and leaving her only with scattered pieces. Youko decided then, firmly, that she'd figure things out herself. Even if Okuyasu didn't trust her, even if he wouldn't talk to her, she'd find a way to help him. She wasn't going to let one of her students down.

Amano tapped gently on the partition beside her desk, as if in lieu of a door to knock on. Lifting her head from her work, Youko flashed him a wry smile; it dropped, once she noticed the pink slip in his hand. Amano ducked his head apologetically as he slid it across the desk towards her.

"Sorry to interrupt your work, Ono-san."

"It's fine." She said, as a matter of course. She scanned the referral-- Higashikata again? The explanation blinked up at her in clear black ink-- 'didn't show up to class'. She shot Amano a questioning look.

Amano crossed his arms, looking around the room uncertainly before meeting her again. Noone else was around. Youko got the odd sense that this was something clandestine, even before he began to talk.

"I wanted to speak to you about Higashikata." A darting glance at her work, a pinch in his brow. "If it's a good time."

"Sure, I'm almost done here."

Youko gestured for him to take a seat, and he pulled up the neighbouring chair. Something in her gut was twisting, hackling with spikes-- though she warned herself to be reasonable, she already found herself picking Amano apart, pre-tensed to search for hidden meanings in whatever it was he'd say. Noone ever seemed to have a balanced view of Higashikata, and she'd long since started to tune them all out.

"Ono-san..." Amano kneaded his hands, forearms rested on his legs and one knee bouncing-- the stance she'd often seen him in when he lectured his basketball team. He scrutinised her, mouth twisted. "I like to think that we're a little close, being the two newest teachers around here. So I hope you can understand that this is coming out of a place of concern. I know you're a good teacher, and I don't want you to face any trouble."

A deep, preparative breath.

"I've been... hearing things around the office. People aren't happy with you. And a lot of it has to do with how you're treating Higashikata."

Youko's shoulders tensed, gaze turning hard.

"Really?" It came in a downward pitch, more a statement than a question. Amano's grimace only deepened.

"People have been saying you're acting out of line. That whenever anyone reports Higashikata, you go chastise them and won't listen to anything they say. Chiba-senpai even said you tried to boss him around." He leant forward a little, eyes widening. "That doesn't sound like the Ono-san I know at all. You've always had a good head on your shoulders, you'd never disrespect a senior-"

"I wasn't being disrespectful!" Youko blurted out. Her teeth clicked together hard at the end-- she'd raised her voice. "I wasn't being rude to him, Amano-san, but when everyone's sending Higashikata-san to me for stupid reasons, of course I'm going to get upset. If I think they're doing something wrong, can't I say it?"

Amano stared at her. Slowly, the crease in his brow grew heavier.

"Do you really think everyone's wrong about him? Even our seniors?" His knee started to bounce faster, hands clasping tightly now, and he pressed his lips thin. "I thought you'd be better than the middle school counsellor..."

Youko twitched, anger bubbling despite herself. "What?"

Amano raised his hands in defence. "I'm not trying to be confrontational. This isn't a problem with you, okay? I think I've figured out what's happened here." He sighed, fingers curling into his palms. "Someone should've warned you about Higashikata. Most people have at least heard about him from the middle school staff... And I'm the one who knows him best here, I should've talked to you."

Youko just stared at him, brows knotted tightly-- even as a flicker of curiosity lit inside her.

"Ono-san..." Amano fixed his gaze on hers, unwavered by her cold expression, "Higashikata is a liar."

And the barbs that'd coiled so neatly inside her stomach spurged out, writhing and engorging, and Youko clenched her teeth to hear him out.

Eased by her silence, Amano leant back, folding his arms as if settling in to tell a story.

"When I taught him back at the middle school, he was a nightmare. It wasn't his attendance or his grades-- not that they were good either --but he was just..." he shook his head, eyes fixed on the distance, "I don't know what was wrong with him. He tried to act all nice, but the second anyone put one foot wrong, he'd snap and beat them to a pulp. I don't know how many times I had to drag him away from one of the other kids... And he's big, you know, even for a hafu. He was the same size as me back then. It was scary just having him in my class, knowing I might have to wrestle him like some security guard or something. A lot of teachers refused to have him at all."

He rubbed at his cheekbone, just below his left eye, as if nursing a bruise.

"We all tried to report him plenty of times. All of us who taught him. We'd go to the principal and practically beg her to at least suspend him, even if she didn't want to kick him out. But then she'd talk to Higashikata, and I don't know how he did it, but she always ended up convinced he'd done nothing wrong. She'd act like we just made it all up, and we didn't even have evidence against that, because every kid Higashikata ever attacked never even ended up bruised. I swear I'd see him practically cave their faces in, there'd be blood everywhere, but by the time I pulled him off them..." he shrugged, helpless, "it was like he'd never even touched them at all. I know it probably sounds crazy, but it was like he could make anything against him just disappear. I never believed in all those ghost stories from around town, but-"

Amano winced, and shook his head hard.

"Agh, just forget about that. I want you to actually believe what I'm saying." A short laugh. "But anyway. We couldn't get through to the principal, and calling his mother was just asking for trouble, so we ended up sending him to the guidance counsellor. I guess we stupidly hoped she'd put him in his place. But he just ended up wrapping her around his finger too."

Like you, was the silent addition Youko knew he meant to say. She curled her lip, irritated.

"Amano-san, with all due respect, I'm not an idiot. I know what kind of person Higashikata-san is, and regardless of whatever stories you have about his past, I know it's a waste of time to send him to me now. He's a good kid. He's trying his best. If you're all still taking issue with him, maybe you're just looking for things to hate."

Amano stared at her, exasperated. "Did you even listen to me?"

"I listened to you talk about a boy you haven't taught since he was fourteen." Youko cut back. "Obviously, he grew up."

Amano's gaze turned cool, back stiff and limbs tensing. His brows drew heavily above his eyes.
"I was trying to help you here, Ono-san. I thought you'd be reasonable enough to understand. Higashikata might be staying under the radar now, but as soon as he starts causing trouble again, the blame's going to fall on you."

He jutted his chin towards the referral slip, sitting like a hazard light between them.

"People like him can never stay between the lines for long."

"No," Youko spat acidly, "not when you keep pushing them out."

She rose from her chair, shoving her papers haphazardly into order and dumping them into their files. Amano got up, but she ignored him, turning towards the exit.

"You can't keep making enemies here." Amano called after her, as she jerked open the door. Then, "Ask him about Ozaki."

Youko paused, rueing herself for it.

"The delinquent kid from 3-C? I know you must've had him." There was an infuriating tinge to Amano's tone, like he'd won something. "He wouldn't tell you who broke his nose, right?"

Youko had definitely had Ozaki, far more than once. He was one of those types that was impossible to get through to, sooner harassing her than listening to a word she said. When she'd queried about his nose, he'd just sneered, threatening to make hers match.

"I guess it's a bit of an embarrassing story for a guy like him." Amano said knowingly, grating every one of her nerves. "Being beaten by a first-year, one-to-four, right in the middle of town square. Guess those hafu kids really are tough."

It was bait. Emotional bait, made to reel her back in until he could pull an acquiescence out her throat. But she knew better than to bite.

Youko pushed her way out of the staffroom, Amano's words still ringing heavy in her ears.

Josuke was curled up in a corner of the school roof, hidden behind the storage unit with his back to the wall and his face to the sun. The heat was soaking into his dark clothes, bogging him in place; he needed it, right then. Things had been going bad again, and without something to fill his mind up, he knew he’d-

The fence stretched out to either edge of his peripheral vision, waiting against the welcoming sky like a catcher’s mitt. Not a single cloud. Josuke felt like a fish in a net.

He'd woken up feeling numb and exhausted, even as the remains of some past-future vision still wracked at the inside of his lungs, made him heave up air like he was choking, drowning, in static. It was always a little distant nowadays. The feeling in his fingertips, in his chest and mouth and tongue, like the creeping red tendrils of dawn licking mountaintops before they dared to duck above the horizon. Josuke knew it wasn't good. But he didn't want to think about it.

And naturally as breathing, he'd disappeared. Found his feet pounding the stairwell when the break-bell rang, found the lock on the rooftop door and broke it-- fixed it --and shoved himself in a corner before anything could overtake him. Before the buzz of chatter could break out in the classroom, before Koichi could walk up to his desk... before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn't want to have, couldn't have, couldn't stomach. Nothing seemed more hideous than trying to find words, right then. When the morning was still throttling his throat.

He took a deep clear breath and sighed. Let it wash him out inside, like a wave smoothing sand along the shore. All those stones and pebbles, bits of glass, dredged up with the inward tide, now dragged back out and vanished. Smooth and clean. Nothing there. And if something still sank deep in his gut, then let it. Josuke took another shivering breath and let it all sink out of sight.

Break should almost be over. Josuke didn't feel anything in particular at the thought; his stomach ached. Warm static still buzzed in his head, all too light and all too heavy, and each deep slow breath came pulled, hand over labouring hand. No, he wasn't feeling anything at all.

(Maybe a cold. Maybe he could say he was coming down with something trivial.)

He closed his eyes, just for a moment. But the passage of his thoughts was soon interrupted by a whipping, darting sound-- Josuke peeked around the wall and spotted Echoes Act 1, searching frantically. And Echoes spotted him.

"Josuke-kun!"

Before he could finish getting to his feet, Echoes had dashed to him, zipping around his body with its glassy eyes searching. It flitted back, hovering in front of him, and gave an unsatisfied lash of its tail.

"What've you been doing up here!? You were gone for so long, we thought something happened to you." Koichi's voice rung out, filled with disdain. It made Josuke's stomach lurch.

"Sorry." And he grinned, as if on someone else's face, and fell into the Voice For Koichi. "I'm fine, don't worry, okay? Just needed to get some air. I've still got time before break ends, anyway, so just give me a minute and I'll come right down."

Echoes stilled, tip of its tail still flicking in a way Josuke couldn't quite catch the meaning of. Finally, Koichi said slowly, "Do you know what time it is?"

Josuke blinked.

"It's lunchtime. It's lunchtime now." And his voice came increasingly concerned, Echoes twisting its tail about as if wringing it. "You missed third and fourth. We've been looking for you for ages. Seriously, did-"

"Nothing happened." It was tight, clipped at the ends. Josuke glanced around for an excuse. "Maybe the speakers just don't work up here. Sorry. I didn't realise that much time had gone by."

And his mouth kept on moving, teleprompted, lines that someone else had written. Sometimes as Josuke talked, he wondered who the hell he was.

"I've been feeling kinda out of it all morning. Think I caught a cold or something. My head's all stuffy, an' I slept like shit, so I guess I'm kinda zoning out today." He smiled again, matte-painted. "Sorry for freaking ya out. I'm glad you're on top of it for if I'm actually getting murdered, though."

Small laugh. Koichi didn't echo it.

"...Well, I'm glad you're alright. Besides the cold and stuff. Come downstairs before someone spots you, okay? You're already gonna be in trouble."

"Yeah, I got it. Don't worry about me too much."

"Uh-huh."

With that-- tinny, unconvinced --Echoes vanished, and Josuke was left to gather himself before walking down into the crowd.

Youko steeled herself for Higashikata, hands folded, three identical pink slips laid out inside her book. He'd missed two classes, in the end, and apparently slacked off in the third. And Youko knew it had to be for a good reason. It always was. Higashikata wasn't an irresponsible person.

As he slid open the door and took a seat, she smiled, flipping her notepad closed. Higashikata returned the look, a little weaker than usual.

"We have a bit of a problem today, Higashikata-san." She said lightly.

He laughed. It echoed like off plaster, hushing at once. Youko couldn't help but notice how the corners of his lips twitched.

"You missed two classes today."

"I know." It was quiet, head dipping. His eyes flicked back up to her, plain and open. "I'm sorry, Sensei. I don't really have a good excuse."

There, an apology! Youko restrained herself from smiling, vindicated. Amano knew nothing.

"That's fine. Whatever happened, I'll hear you out, alright? I know you wouldn't have skipped out with bad intent."

Josuke raised his head a little, giving a small smile. His eyes didn't crinkle with it. Youko frowned, uneased.

"Are you okay? You seem a little flat today."

"Am I?" Josuke blinked, eyes widening and staying wide. His smile pushed up brighter, wobbling at the corners. "Sorry, I guess- um, guess I was nervous about this meeting. I just really hate causing trouble for everyone, y'know? I know my teachers work really hard organising their lessons, and it must've been frustrating when I wasn't there, and now you have to take the time to talk to me about it..."

His words came quick, but not imprecise, like the fingers of a well-trained pianist. And Youko didn't know why, but some small part of her felt disconcerted-- as if his mouth movements were just out of sync with his voice. She wanted to push it away but it persisted, maybe fuelled by the seed Amano had somehow niggled inside her.

Higashikata is a liar.

No, she didn't believe that. But she'd trusted her sense of people too long to ignore when something was off.

"Why did you miss class?" She asked, point-blank.

Higashikata froze for a second at her tone.

"I... I felt sick." His smile faded, posture dropped, but his eyes stayed just as wide. He was blinking too quick, two at a time. "I thought I was gonna throw up, so I was in the bathroom. I know it's no excuse, and I should've gone to the sick-bay, but..."

His gaze darted to the wall for a second, as if spotting something. The awkward marionette-tension that'd hung in his shoulders dropped, loose and even.

"I... um, it's kinda personal..."

The hesitance in his voice felt so real-- why was it 'felt'? Why was she doubting him? It was like she was thinking like Amano, casting everything Higashikata did into question. It was wrong. Didn't she trust him? She was supposed to support these students, take their side when noone else would. But his tone, as much as she tried to ignore it, prickled in the same spots Amano's had, when he'd rattled off his Ozaki story as if he didn't know its weight.

Youko nodded for him to go on, but that grating feeling wouldn't stop.

"When I was a kid, I got really sick. I was in the hospital for more than a month with a fever, and I nearly died." Higashikata's gaze dropped to the ground, hands twisting animatedly in his lap. There was a perfect rhythm to it, stopping exactly when he met her eyes again. "Since then, I've just... really hated hospitals and stuff. I've never been able to make myself go to the sick-bay. Soon as I get in there, I start freaking out."

Youko hated that her first thought was 'Is that really true?'

"Right. That's definitely complicated." And what if he was lying? What could he be covering up? Higashikata had never skipped class before; if he had a reason he wasn't telling her, it had to be fair. He'd have a good reason for being dishonest-- if he was. "Have you told your teachers about this?"

"I have in the past. They never believe me." It didn't come angry, or even resigned. Higashikata spoke with an all-bearing patience, carried on a what-can-you-do smile and a cock of the head that was too sharp, too fallen in place. "It's like you said, right? They don't like me 'cos of my race. Even when I was a kid, screaming and crying outta fear, they just thought I was acting out. I can't really count on any of them to care." And there was a tightness in his cheeks, something withheld, something that lit up in his eyes. "Except you, right?"

Youko hated that she saw it. Saw the hook to his words, the trailing line. A push, a twisting and reframing. Us against the world. Her hands tensed, between them, on the table.

"Higashikata-san, can I ask you about something unrelated?"

Higashikata blinked, some of the assurance dropping from his face. His hands started twisting in his lap again, subtle, restrained. Like pinned-down worms.

"'Course."

"Ozaki-san from class 3-C," she watched his face, but saw no recognition, "is it true that you broke his nose?"

Higashikata's eyes narrowed, brows drawing before he could realise himself. He straightened, gave her a face she couldn't recognise. He laughed.

"Where'd you hear something like that? I've never even heard of an Ozaki."

"He told me himself." The lie came too well off her clay tongue. She didn't reproach herself for it.

Higashikata stared at her, unflinching. His hands stilled, and like melting wax his features softened, slipping back into the familiar easy smile.

"You're telling a joke or something, right, Sensei? Man, you really got me. Totally freaked out for a second." His words vibrated with laughter, perfect up-and-down; his smile widened. "No way a third-year would ever go around saying an underclassman beat them up. I mighta believed it if it was some first-year trying to mess with me, but Ozaki-senpai? He's really going around telling teachers he lost a fight? Not very delinquent of him, is it?"

Youko clenched her jaw, reluctant admission of the dead-end she'd backed herself to. She wasn't going to believe Higashikata had done it without proof, but...

But. Oh.

"How do you know he's a delinquent?"

Higashikata tensed.

"Huh?"

"You said you'd never even heard of him," her voice grew, sharp, analysing, "so how would you know that? Are you really being honest with me, Higashikata?"

She realised too late that she'd forgotten the honorific-- but Higashikata had noticed right away. At once his features shifted, tiny, subtle: a slight pinch in his brows, a tightening jaw, a nanometre lowering of his lids. His stare ripped right through her, face blank and shrieking with rage.

"What do you mean, Sensei? You said he was."

Youko frowned. "No I didn't."

"You did! You said 'Ozaki-san, the delinquent from class 3-C'." Each word was forceful, embossing itself into the air. "Don't you remember?"

"I know what I said." Youko pushed back, defensive, though now she started to doubt herself. "I didn't say he was a delinquent."

"Well, if you didn't, then how could I have known he was?" An amused smile, hovering below his flat eyes. "It's like you said, Sensei, I've never even heard of the guy."

There was a knock at the door. In the time it took Youko to glance at the clock, Higashikata was already out of his seat, bag swung over his shoulder.

"It was great seeing you. Hopefully it doesn't happen again soon, huh?" He laughed, water on metal. "It's always the most ridiculous stuff, right? Like, give us a break."

He slid the door open, stepping aside to let the next person in before throwing her a wave. Youko just stared back. She had no idea what to think of how he'd been that day. She had no idea what to think at all.

Josuke slunk out of the meeting room, last remnants of a smile dropping off his face like a stone as he turned. Okuyasu straightened when he saw him, hovering warily. He could tell that something was wrong.

"Did it go okay?" He asked.

Josuke's mouth twisted. Lips parting, hovering, closing again, before he gritted his teeth and turned his head away.

"Nah. Went shit."

He stalked off, and Okuyasu hurried to meet his pace. Through the empty halls, Josuke's feet slamming down like he was trying to beat the lino tiles into submission. He was scowling, dark and heavy, and Okuyasu's heart thrummed when he saw how tight his jaw was clenched. Without prompting, Josuke began to talk.

"S'like I keep fucking telling you, man." His gaze swivelled to Okuyasu, eyes wide with fury. "I keep fucking saying this shit, right? Noone in this goddamn school gives a fuck."

His voice rose with every word, hands clenched into whitening fists. Okuyasu tensed, faltering in his steps.

"She chew you out?" His voice rasped more than usual, catching in his throat.

Josuke snorted, derisive. "Course she fucking did. What the hell else would she have done?"

They'd reached the entrance hall. Josuke stopped, breath quick and heavy through his nose, eyes wild, body shaking with tension. He looked like a bomb about to explode.

"Why the hell wouldn't she get pissed at me!?" It burst out of him, and he whirled round, stare shredding through Okuyasu's skull. "This is what they all fuckin' do. This always happens, Okuyasu, they act nice, they act like they give a fuck, and they just..!"

He whirled and smashed his fist into the wall, breaking plaster. Okuyasu flinched.

"They just get fucking sick of you!"

Crazy Diamond flared out of his body, around his arms. Josuke's gaze rounded on the shoe-shelves. Chest heaving, teeth clenched, he spun on his heel towards them.

Okuyasu held his bag against his chest, both arms squeezing tight. His mouth was dry when he opened it, tongue laggard and dense.

"I'm not gonna get sick of you."

A pause. Like the air had been sucked out of the room. Josuke looked up at Okuyasu, face inscrutable. For some reason, Okuyasu felt like he was about to punch him.

"I..."

The tension dropped from Josuke's body, face falling slack. He bit his lip. Crazy Diamond disappeared.

Without warning, he tumbled into Okuyasu, wrenching him tightly into a hug. As they both stumbled back, he grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, gripped him tight, buried his face in his neck like he was trying to drown himself. Breath trembling, Okuyasu held him back.

"Okuyasu..." Josuke sighed shakily, nosing at the crook of his jaw. Lifting his head, he pressed a hand to Okuyasu's cheek, cupped him gently, stared him straight in the eye with his lips parted and his cheeks pink and his eyelashes teardropped like stars. Okuyasu held his breath. The tips of their noses brushed. Squeezing his eyes shut, Josuke murmured his name again, aching, hating. He pushed them apart. When he opened his eyes again, they were opaque.

"I'm not gonna get sick of you either." It was hushed, gravelly. Josuke stared down at his feet, then out the door. "You're..." he wavered for a moment, "You're the only one who fuckin' gets it."

Okuyasu nodded. He didn't understand at all.

They changed their shoes, got their things from their lockers. Josuke sniffed, glancing around, before holding out his hand. He didn't meet Okuyasu's gaze in it, lips drawn stubbornly, brows pressed into a frown.

"Noone's gonna be around right now. So..."

He didn't continue. Maybe he thought it all made sense. Okuyasu took his hand without a word, and together they headed out the door.

It was past five by the time Youko finished with her counselling duties. Through it all, she'd felt so half-attentive, mind still snagged on Higashikata and Okuyasu. Now that she had a free moment, though, she could finally do something about one of them.

Heading up to the front office, Youko stood patiently at the counter, waiting for the office lady, Matsuda, to notice she was there. It was about the time that Matsuda would pack up to head home, so as she approached the glass irritatedly, Youko gave an apologetic bow of her head.

"Sorry, I just needed something quickly..."

"Very quickly." Matsuda replied with a weathered grimace, glancing pointedly at the clock.

"Of course. I just need the phone number for one of my students' households. Nijimura Okuyasu, class 1-D..?"

With a huff, Matsuda turned to one of the filing cabinets, fetching out the contact book and slapping it open to a bookmarked page.

"People are always asking for this one. Parents never pick up, though." She scribbled the number down onto a sticky-note, shoving it through the gap. "I'm going to miss the bus if I wait for you to make the call here. Just use your own phone."

Youko nodded, giving thanks just as Matsuda slid down the shutters behind the glass. She headed off to an empty room, punching the number into her mobile then waiting, pacing around the narrow space as the phone rung and rung.

"Hello? This is Kimura."

A man had picked up, voice gravelly with age. Youko frowned-- Kimura? Maybe she'd just heard him wrong.

"Hello, this is Ono from Budgaoka Highschool. I wanted to speak to the guardian of Nijimura Okuyasu." Hesitant, she added, "Do I have the right place?"

A pause. "What? No. No, there's no Nijimura Okuyasu living here. This is Ki-mu-ra. There's no highschool kids living in this house."

"Oh." Youko flushed. "I'm sorry. Wrong number."

"You think?" He muttered, just before she hung up.

Youko checked over the number again, face hot with embarrassment. To think she'd actually misdialed...

But she paused, realising. She hadn't gotten it wrong at all.

Was it Matsuda who'd messed it up? Or maybe someone further along. Maybe it was even spelt wrong on the enrolment form. Well, whatever it was, she'd just have to find it another way. Resolved, Youko threw away the sticky-note, and headed to the staffroom to grab the phonebook.

There were two Nijimuras listed in Morioh-cho. For each, Youko rang, waited, introduced herself, only to be told that they didn't know an Okuyasu. She tried giving them the kanji of his name-- maybe 'Okuyasu' was just an alternate reading he'd been nicknamed with at school --but her insistence only made them grow curt. Neither of them had sons. Neither of them were Okuyasu's family.

And maybe there was still someone, Youko tried to reassure herself, as she headed out to her car that night. Maybe Okuyasu's household was under a different surname, or they'd moved to town so recently that they hadn't been added to the phonebook yet. No reason to make presumptions. No reason to be afraid.

She sighed, stopping just short of her driver's door, and pressed a hand tiredly to her head. Or maybe none of that was true. Maybe Okuyasu was going through something awful, something he couldn't trust her with, and she'd never be able to find out enough to help. Maybe Higashikata was a wreck under the surface, but he'd always twist so cleanly out of her hands that she'd never even see it. Maybe she'd hit a wall with both of them. Maybe this was all that she could do.

If she could just know what was going on in their heads...

Fumbling for her keys, Youko reached out to unlock her car. She never made it. Something sharp pierced at her neck, and before she could even process what'd happened, she was collapsing to the floor.

Chapter Text

Youko woke up with a start. The hum of machines surrounded her, lights bright and searing, all too loud and too much with how sharply her head was aching. She squinted her eyes, slowly pushing to her elbows with a groan. A hospital. She was in a hospital. Lump on her head, throbbing ache in her bandaged neck-- at least she didn't seem too badly hurt. Glancing to the side, she spotted her husband, Shohei, sleeping in a chair beside her. His chin was slumped onto his chest, arms loosely wrapped around his briefcase; he was still dressed in his wrinkled brown suit. Poor dear. Whatever had happened to her, it must've worried him sick.

(And that was odd-- she didn't feel the best right now, but was it enough to be hospitalised? Absolutely not. A couple aspirin, and she'd be just fine to head in to work.)

She found her glasses on the bedside table, in front of what looked like an overnight bag; grabbing it, she pressed a kiss on Shohei's cheek before slipping out to get dressed.

Just past the curtain around her bed was the bathroom, thankfully unoccupied. It must've still been early in the morning, because the ward was quiet, no sound but the distant squeak of nurses' shoes and the occasional faint mutter. The rest of the ward was still sleeping. But despite that, Youko couldn't shake an unnerving prickling-- like someone was watching her. Skin crawling, she glanced over her shoulder but met nothing. It was nothing. She tried to shake it off-- just a remnant of whatever attack she'd suffered last night --but it wouldn't fully go away.

Slipping into the bathroom, she turned on the light and placed the bag on top of the toilet, rummaging through it. A few changes of clothes, toiletries, the book she'd been reading... Shohei must've thought she'd be staying for a bit. Picking out the most work-appropriate clothing, she quickly changed then turned to the mirror to-

A person behind her.

Youko screamed, whipping around and stumbling, shrinking against the rim of the sink. A person. No-- not... not a person. A thing. It hovered above the floor like a limp piece of cloth, beady-eyed white face fixed on her from behind a ruff of spikes. It had no nose or mouth. It had no limbs. Youko's mind raced, but she couldn't make sense of it. Was it a ghost? A youkai? Were those kinds of stories real?

Frantic footsteps, and the door flung open. Shohei stood gripping the handle, chest heaving raggedly, eyes wide. Paralysed, Youko could only flick her eyes towards him-- and then she stared. Something was spilt over his chest, vibrant, richly purple. She might've thought it was a stain if it wasn't writhing, shrinking and leaping like lashing waves against a ship's front. Fear-- the label came to her mind unbidden. She couldn't take her eyes off it, even as Shohei's form untensed and he approached.

"Youko..."

The hue faded, stilled a little, though it still ebbed and flowed precariously. Tugging her gaze away, she met Shohei's face. His eyes were wide and dark with concern.

"You okay? I heard you scream, did you hurt yourself?" He held her shoulders gently, checking her over. Youko's eyes darted warily to the ghost-- thankfully, it didn't move.

"I... Something strange is happening..." She mumbled.

Shohei pressed his hand to her forehead, cool and soothing.

"It feels like your fever's gone down." He kissed her temple, smoothing her hair down. "Come back to bed, okay? You need to rest."

Youko faltered, then shook her head, pushing out of his arms.

"I'm fine. I've just got a little headache, it's not important enough to skip work." She said firmly. "I've got my Classical Japanese students today-- you know how much they're struggling, I can't just leave them with a substitute. And I've got Kawada-san in that class too, I'm the only one who can-"

"Youko." Shohei cut in, eyes wide with exasperation. The stain on his chest was curdling. "Do you know what happened to you last night? You had a forty-degree fever! If someone hadn't found you where you'd collapsed, you could've died."

Youko frowned. Where she'd collapsed? That didn't fit what she remembered. She traced the bandage on her neck, brows drawing tighter.

"The doctors said that your body needs time to recover. You're going to be fatigued, and if you push yourself too hard you'll just make yourself sicker." Shohei took her hands and squeezed them, mouth drawn thin. "I've told both our companies that we need a few days off. Please, just stay home with me. Let me look after you for a bit."

Youko stared down at their hands. In Shohei's chest, the sea had parted into a web of colours, flickering specks swimming around each other like amoebas on a microscope slide. She averted her gaze.

"I feel fine. If anything gets worse, I'll go home-- but you know this is important to me."

Shohei turned away his head, brows furrowed. "I know."

"And I have Okuyasu-kun tomorrow-"

"I know." It was terser. He sighed, and let go of her hands. "Youko, sometimes I think you're putting too much into this. Your job matters, but it's not the only thing that does."

He stepped aside. The movement in his chest had settled, stone-grey and gently flowing-- resignation. It ached her to see it.

"I'll drive you to work." Shohei picked up her bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder and leading the way out.

Youko had hoped that the ghost was just some hospital-bathroom haunt, but as they headed out to the car, it stuck beside her. She didn't really feel afraid of it anymore, more just... pityingly amused. It looked like a sad little dog, sitting in the back seat staring at her with its round wet eyes. If Shohei hadn't been there, she might've tried to cheer it up.

That strange vision she'd developed didn't go away either. Every person she came across was covered in the stains-- some flat and simple, some projecting like a 3D shape, and some extending further still, enveloping their limbs, their heads, their entire body. She got more adept at 'reading' them throughout the morning, meanings registering as automatically as when she saw text on a passing road-sign. Youko didn't understand this new vision, or the ghost, or the sickness she'd been struck with last night that even the doctors had just shrugged about. She didn't want to say it was supernatural, or draw connections she had no evidence for. But what else was she meant to think?

As she rounded the corner from the parking lot to the school's front doors, Youko was slammed in the head by a burst of colour, as if someone had set off a firework in her face. A splitting pain exploded behind her eyes, and she doubled over, clutching her head. She felt like she might've groaned, but she couldn't hear it-- her head was crammed full of bored tired happy nervous bored resentful stressed scared angry scared scared tense determined scared-

She squeezed her eyes shut, and it stopped. In her mind, though, a fuzzy image appeared, like she was squinting through her eyelids-- the school courtyard, the crowds... people approaching her, cautious and tensed. Okuyasu, Higashikata, another smaller boy, and-

"Oi, Sensei." That was Higashikata's voice, tense and cautious. As he stepped forward, she felt something enshroud her, cold and gentle weight on her shoulders. Higashikata froze.

And the ghost behind him drifted closer, fists raised, eyes cold.

They were all haunted by ghosts.

"I'm gonna just punch it." Okuyasu muttered, and Josuke hissed something, waving him off. The third boy inched forward, and Youko felt her self prickle out. He jumped back just as quickly. Spines shifted at the edges of her vision.

As the boys muttered between themselves, Youko chanced cracking her eyes open, just enough to check if their ghosts were really there. Her vision was obscured by shimmery netting-- her ghost, she realised, wrapping around her.

"Can you see it?"

The boys' heads snapped up. Higashikata's eyes were wide, jaw clenched but shoulders dropping. Okuyasu straightened out in visible relief. When the third boy nodded and approached her, she could just read his warmth through the mesh.

"Yeah! You can see ours too, right?" He gestured to the green-and-white spirit next to him, before it vanished. "They're called stands. Did yours just appear this morning?"

The boy-- Hirose Koichi, as he'd introduce himself --explained it all to her. Okuyasu jumped in every so often with additions, but Josuke just stood stoically to the side, arms crossed and eyes locked on the stand around her. He didn't make his own vanish like the others had, and it hung tense behind his shoulders, eyes black and sharp.

"Can ya put it away?" He cut in suddenly, just as Hirose was about to explain something about an arrow. The others turned to him, and he jutted out his chin contemptuously. A deep black pit was burrowing into his chest. "If you're walking around with it out all the time, you're just asking for a fight."

Youko blinked, but before she could even ask how to do that, her stand vanished. It took her until a second later to realise what the pit in Higashikata's chest had been: anxiety. She couldn't see it anymore, but she imagined it settling, ebbing with the loose drop in his stance. As she straightened out, rubbing her head, he slowly trailed towards her.

"This where you got shot?" He asked, pointing to her neck.

A warmth spread through her skin, and she flinched as she realised his stand was touching her. He drew it away, and she rubbed her neck instinctively, surprised to find it no longer hurt. Higashikata's stand whipped back into his body, and he looked away disinterestedly.

"Shot?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "With that arrow? Is that what causes this?"

"Yeah, usually." For how bizarre this whole situation was, Higashikata looked incredibly bored. Youko couldn't tell if he was feigning it or not. Maybe he was, because his friends were giving him odd looks. "You probably got attacked by one of the guys we're looking for. Just don't worry about it an' keep your head down."

Youko blinked at him, brow creased with a frown. This was all so hard for her to get her head around-- and who were they looking for? What was that supposed to mean? Were they fighting people or something?

"Anyway." Higashikata glanced over his shoulder, obviously meaning to leave. Beside him, Okuyasu scrunched up his face.

"Shouldn't we let her in on shit a little more?" He'd lowered his voice slightly, as if to keep Youko from hearing, but he was so naturally loud it didn't do much. "What if Kira comes after her or somethin'?"

"Yeah, stand users attract each other, right?" Hirose added, doing better at keeping his voice down. Youko only barely managed to catch what he said. "And he usually... y'know... goes after women..."

She wasn't sure she'd heard that last bit right. She hoped she hadn't.

Higashikata let out a huff, scuffing his shoes against the dirt and giving a loose shrug. With one last studying glance at him, Hirose turned to her.

"We can explain everything after school, okay? Just meet us outside Owson's in Kotodai. We'll introduce you to everyone, too."

Youko stared at him, apprehensive frown on her face. There were so many reasons she could think of to refuse their offer, to forget all this supernatural stuff and just stick to her normal life. But then... wasn't this what she'd wanted? Answers, a way to understand? She glanced between Okuyasu and Higashikata, and with no further reluctance, she nodded.

Youko felt odd catching the bus down to Kotodai, awkwardly seated with her bag in her lap and her heart hammering in her throat. It was incredibly early, compared to when she usually got off work-- as she glanced around at the few other passengers onboard, she wondered: did they know why she was there? Could they tell? She knew it was impossible, but she had the odd creeping sense that they could all detect she was a stand user.

The boys were seated further back in the bus, quietly chatting with each other. Youko had asked them not to sit near her-- it might seem inappropriate, if anyone saw her hanging out with students after school. She could tell they were keeping an eye on her, though; every so often, she'd glance over to find one of them staring at her, only to quickly drop their gaze.

Besides the three from that morning, there were a few more students in the group now. Yamagishi, Hazamada (remembering the story of what'd happened to his friend, she was scared of what his stand might be), and a polite-looking blonde boy she'd never met before. As they all got off the bus, Youko watched how this gaggle divided itself into strata: Higashikata and Okuyasu at the front, Hirose only behind because of the footpath's width; then the blonde boy, trailing with his head cocked, obviously trying to squeeze in with the rest; then Yamagishi; and finally, Hazamada, who kept his head down aside from when he snuck glances at Hirose. They weren't all friends-- it was obvious. As they came to a stop outside Owson's, the group dispersed into awkward little clusters. Youko stood a bit apart from them all, waiting to be introduced.

Two men were already waiting there, and Youko noted how Higashikata straightened when he saw them. One was elderly, European-looking, and holding a baby-- but it was the other one who interested her more. He was incredibly tall, Japanese but with sharp features like a Hollywood star: a hafu like Higashikata. There was no doubt on first glance that they were family-- brothers, she'd guess, or uncle and nephew. Higashikata's eyes stayed locked on him as he trailed up to the front of the group.

"We're still waiting on a few people, right?" His voice wobbled a little, eyes darting to his shoes before he trained them back up again. "Um, should I- should I just do introductions and stuff? Or should I at least wait for Reimi..?"

The other man gave him an impassive look. He muttered something back that Youko didn't catch, and Higashikata stiffened, nodding with an awkward laugh. He backed away, fiddling idly with his hair, and for the next several minutes they all stood around and waited as more people slowly arrived. First, a girl and her dog-- ghosts, as she reassured Youko, when she panicked over the dog's slit throat. Yet another thing to swallow. Then a handful of other adults came: she recognised Kobayashi from last year's graduating class, and Kishibe Rohan from the news. When she tried to greet Kobayashi, he skittered awkwardly away; he'd been a bad student when he was in school, always finding new ways to cheat, and he clearly remembered the many sessions they'd had together. Youko hoped he was making an honest living now.

Once everyone had apparently gathered, Higashikata took his place back at the head of the group.

"Okay..!" He clapped his hands together, sound muffled by the comb in his hands. Tucking it into his pocket, he continued. "Well, we got you guys here because we've got some big updates on the case, and we found a few more stand users. So I'm gonna do all the introductions, and then we can talk about what's been going on, Kira-wise."

He grinned broadly, shifting constantly from foot to foot. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, because he kept aborting halfway between gesturing and shoving them in his pockets.

"So, this is Ono-sensei from our school. We think she got hit by Kira's dad last night." He gestured to her, and Youko blinked in startlement as everyone turned to face her. She raised a hand in greeting. "And the guy with the long hair next to her is Mikitaka. I dunno what happened with him. Anyway, so I'll just go through the group..."

Higashikata ran through everyone in a whirlwind, throwing names and faces at her faster than she could memorise them all. Hopefully she'd become more familiar with everyone if they met again, or it'd be embarrassing for her.

"...you probably know Kishibe Rohan."

Higashikata paused, eyes sliding to the elderly man. It belatedly occurred to Youko that they might be related.

"And this is Joestar-san, he's from America." Tacked on quickly, a scramble of words before he moved on, "He's my dad. And this-"

Youko studied Mr. Joestar for a moment, intense pity blooming in her chest. He looked incredibly old, maybe as old as her own grandfather. He was no parent for a teenage boy. Her eyes flicked to the baby in his arms-- was that his too? Did he sleep with some other poor woman over here? She tried to keep her lip from curling in disgust as she tuned back into Higashikata's talk.

"...and this is Jotaro-san." A small smile played at Higashikata's lips as he looked up at him, eyes only turning belatedly back to Youko. His voice grew brighter, almost boastful. "He's one of my relatives. He usually lives in America, but he's staying here for the investigation and stuff. He's kinda in charge of everything, y'know? He's working with this, like, secret agency, and he's studying to-"

"That's fine, Josuke." Jotaro cut in, tone low and plain.

Higashikata's mouth clicked shut, shoulders dropping just a little. He slid his gaze to Okuyasu, and listlessly he gestured.

"And that's Okuyasu's dad. Sooo... that's everyone."

He folded his arms, shuffling off to the side. Youko glanced over to Okuyasu, frowning. His father was here? She didn't see-

Her gaze dropped, and she blinked in shock. There was some creature standing at about Okuyasu's waist height, hiding behind his leg and clinging tightly to his hand. It was green, oozing with sludge, flesh sliding like it was sloughing off its own skeleton. When she locked eyes with it, it clung to Okuyasu tighter, and he tensed, gaze on the floor. Youko opened her mouth to speak, but she had no clue what to say. What... what was she supposed to think?

"Can we move this on?" Kishibe huffed, crossing his arms. "I have a meeting with my editors after this. Let's just update on the investigation and go."

Jotaro grunted his assent, and Youko turned, giving the both of them a frown.

"What exactly are you investigating?"

Kishibe scoffed, eyes sliding to Higashikata. "Seriously? Did you explain anything before you dragged her here, Josuke?"

Higashikata glared, about to retort, when Jotaro cut in.

"We're looking for a serial killer." He said, voice level and eyes firm. "Kira Yoshikage. He's a stand user too."

Youko stared at him, then at Higashikata, then at the flock of kids she was surrounded by. Her eyes darted back to Jotaro, accusing, but before she could say a word, the meeting had already moved on. She stayed back silently, listened, tried to understand-- but all she could think about was how much danger these kids were being put into. More than ever, she was sure she needed to help.

Okuyasu leant back in the squeaky old library chair, English textbook laid out before him. It was a reading passage-- his lips silently traced the letters for a moment, fingers twitching with the urge to trace along the page. He'd been psyching himself up for a few minutes now; silent, Youko waited for him to start reading aloud.

"Muhny-"

"Many." Youko quietly corrected.

Okuyasu scrunched his face up, then continued.

"Pe- peyo- people," his eyes darted up to her, and on her nod, he let out a small breath, looking back down at the page. But then he stiffened, teeth grinding, the muscles of his brow twisting into hard knots. Valiantly, he tried to sound it out.

"Tuh-huh. Th. Th-r..."

Youko watched him patiently, giving encouraging nods every time his eyes flicked up to her again. Okuyasu kept on stumbling over the letters, sounds spat through increasingly clenched teeth. His lips curled around the vowels like he was tearing flesh off them.

"Thr-oww-" Black eyes, shredding like brambles, met hers and narrowed when he realised he was wrong. "Thr-oh..."

"It's a bit difficult." Youko said sympathetically. "There's a lot of different ways it could be pronounced. Do you know any other '-ough' words it might rhyme with?"

"Don't gotta talk to me like a baby." Okuyasu grumbled, curling his lip. Huffing, he chewed on his thumbnail for a second as he stared daggers through the page. "Thr... Thr- throg."

Youko winced politely. On meeting her gaze, Okuyasu's eyes widened then narrowed again with a violent glare.

"This is fuckin' stupid!" He snapped, slamming his fist on the table. "It doesn't make any sense, it's just fuckin' bullshit!"

"I know it's confusing-"

"I don't wanna fucking do this!" His voice was rising, wild and whipping, teeth bared. "I don't wanna fucking speak English, I don't care, I don't give a shit!"

"I know-"

"Then don't make me do it!"

He hurled to his feet, chair clattering to the ground, and lobbed the textbook across the room. Then another one-- thwacking into a shelf, turning everyone's eyes to them, and Okuyasu tore the cover off the next book in reach, nails digging in, and when he threw it at Youko he let out a violent scream.

Her heart froze. She cringed back, threw her arms up-- but the impact never came. With a dull thud the book fell at her feet, and she heard Okuyasu still, and only then did she release her breath and dare look up at him again. The shimmering veil of her stand was around her, bristling protectively like the shedding scales of a snake.

Okuyasu was frozen. Eyes wide, disbelief and guilt just starting to permeate through the thin mesh between his mind and his rage. It was all purple and green, fresh bruises fading before pulsing into richness again, like a thousand heartbeats thickest in the pit of his stomach. Youko willed her stand to unfurl itself from her, and she noticed how he flinched.

No, rage wasn't quite right.

She could see it now, now that her vision wasn't filtered through her stand's fabric. Something queasy and heavy, deep-rooted. He'd been scared. All along, he'd been so scared, and the anger had burst from it like heavy plums until it filled every inch of him, until he hardly had room to breathe.

She lowered her shoulders, willed her stand away. Okuyasu dropped his gaze from her and hugged himself.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. "I just... I just can't do this shit. I shouldn'ta lost my cool, but..."

"It's alright."

"I didn't wanna do that." He sniffled, clenching his jaw, and turned his head away. "I... I like you. I don't wanna..."

"I forgive you." Youko said firmly. "That wasn't okay, but I know you're trying to be better."

She faltered, licked her lips.

"I... I think I might've been focusing on the wrong way to help."

One of the library assistants was eyeing them warily from a distance, seeming unsure about whether to intervene. Youko shot them a stiff smile, then glanced back at Okuyasu. That was probably the end of their study session.

"Let's step outside and talk, okay?"

They found a bench outside, under the shade of the awning projecting over the side door. Youko dropped her bag of books, taking a seat, and after a moment's hesitation, Okuyasu sat down beside her. His eyes were still wet, hands flicking and fidgeting in his lap. Youko gave him a moment to calm down before she spoke.

"I want to ask you a little more about yourself, Okuyasu-san." She began, looking up at him. "About your life. I think there's a lot I don't understand, and if I knew more about you, maybe I could help you better."

Okuyasu stiffened, hands clenching. He looked away from her and gave a noncommittal grunt.

Youko decided to ease into it gently.

"I know you had a pretty difficult childhood," when he tensed, she raised a hand placatingly, adding, "I'm not going to ask anything in-depth. It's just that, well..."

She took a breath.

"Sometimes, for some people, their intense anger can come from places of trauma. Maybe they were beaten by their parents, or yelled at often, or they were bullied in school. So when they get into a situation that reminds them of their past..." she gestured, "instinctively, they defend themselves."

Okuyasu was already curling up, eyes skittering across his shoes, shoulders hunched. Youko grimaced at the sight.

"I was wondering if that was something you're going through."

He didn't reply for a while. She gave him the time-- it could be hard to confess these kinds of things to a teacher. Especially when-

"Can ya not report me?" He said quietly.

She blinked. "Report you..?"

"To the... fuckin', government or whatever." He scuffed his shoes against the ground, staring tensely down at the dirt. "I mean, some of it's stand stuff, so noone will believe ya anyway, but... I can't get put in foster care. I've got my dad to look after."

His dad. Youko remembered the rotten thing she'd seen standing beside him, utterly inhuman apart from its dripping eyes. She shuddered, then hesitantly nodded.

"I... I know your situation must be complicated. Maybe too complicated for a social worker." Each word came slow and hesitant, her face souring just from uttering them. But if Okuyasu's situation was as tangled in the supernatural as it seemed, the state government would probably be the last people who could help.

"It's our secret." She nodded, holding out a hand. "As long as there's no mundane threats to you, I won't tell anyone."

Okuyasu slackened, a small smile forming on his face. He shook her hand, grip hard and bony, then sat back more casually on the bench.

"Well... I guess if it's being beaten an' shit, then yeah, but I don't really know if it matters." He said, scratching his cheek. "I mean, apparently my dad used to bash me all the time, but I don't even remember it."

Youko winced, nodding. "So that was until you were... four, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged, expression as careless as if he was talking about the weather. "An' after he was gone, my big bro did all the usual brother shit. Y'know, yell at me an' knock me around and stuff."

"That isn't normal." Youko cut in, trying not to betray her alarm. She'd guessed right. "How often did he do that? Did he hurt you badly?"

The sun was still up. He couldn't keep going.

Okuyasu frowned, gaze going distant for a second. He darted his eyes around, swallowed, kneaded his fist into his palm.

"Don't think so." He huffed, biting his knuckle. "He'd just punch me if I annoyed him an' stuff. I don't think it's... don't think it's, like, important or whatever."

Youko wasn't too sure how to convince him it was. That'd be something they could work on. She tapped her nails against her thigh, thinking-- and then her eyes were drawn to the scars running down Okuyasu's face. Oh. Her stomach sank into the ground.

"What about the injuries on your face? Where did they come from?" She asked, wishing she didn't have to, wishing they didn't exist.

Okuyasu raised a hand to his cheek, then frowned, saying nothing for a long while. Finally he shrugged, mouth twisting.

"I... I dunno." His frown deepened, gaze flicking off to the side. "Huh. That's fuckin' weird. Why..."

His hands twisted nervously, eyes darting, lips mouthing silent words.

"I... I guess they musta come from my dad. Don't think Keichou ever told me anything about it, though."

"You can't remember anything that happened?" Youko said worriedly.

"Uh..." Okuyasu screwed up his face, deep in thought. All of a sudden, he shot up straight, grinning widely. "Yeah, I got it! I had a birthday cake one year, right, it was like... It was one of those supermarket icecream cakes, it looked like Anpanman's face." He rapped his fists against his thighs, buzzing with excitement. "Yeah, and I remember I just wanted'ta cram it in my mouth, but I couldn't open that wide, 'cos I had all these stitches an' shit. I was... fuck, how old was I... eight?"

Youko was about to make a comment, but he cut in, clapping his hands together.

"No, I was eleven! 'Cos I was thinkin', like, the only reason I got a cake was because it was a lucky number, one an' one." He held up two fingers, one either side of his crooked smile. "I dunno where the hell I even got that. Eleven's not actually lucky, right? I was a dumbass kid."

Youko smiled sorely. She didn't want to ruin his moment, but something was bothering her... and if they were going to figure out the root of his anger issues, she'd probably have to say it.

"Okuyasu-san... you were only living with your brother at that point, right?"

"Huh?" He blinked. "Uh, yeah. Dad was still following us around an' stuff, but that was before Keichou started draggin' him with us. So we were still tryna escape him, most of the time."

"Keichou's your brother?"

He nodded.

"So..." Youko grimaced, inclining her head, "do you think it might've been Keichou-san who hurt you?"

She could see the joy melting off his face, like it'd gone from summer to midwinter in seconds. Okuyasu swallowed heavily, brows drawing together.

"Wh... why would he do that..?" A nervous smile formed on his face, and he laughed. "I probably just cut myself up on accident or some shit, I was always gettin' hurt like that. He wouldn't... I mean, I told ya he'd just hit me, not like..."

He trailed off, face wan and tense. The smile didn't stay long.

"Maybe it's something we can talk about in future." Youko suggested softly. "I think... if Keichou-san was your guardian, and he was the one teaching you, then the way he treated you would be at the heart of your problems now. Maybe talking through it would help."

Okuyasu was silent. The school bell rang, and he just got up to leave, face devoid of anything but a withdrawn, sullen stare.

Before he could run off, Youko called out, "Oh, and could you tell Higashi-"

"To meet with ya?" Okuyasu replied flatly. "Yeah, he knows."

"Oh." Youko said. "How did... How did he react?"

Okuyasu paused, looking back at her, hands shoved into his pockets.

"He was mad."

Higashikata stared cooly at his fingernails, picking at a chip of polish coming off his thumb. He hadn't responded to Youko's greeting, and it seemed like he was determined to ice her out. Youko stared at him, frowning, for a while, before deciding to break the silence.

"So," she said, tapping her pen against the table, "You skipped class again. And Maeda-sensei found you breaking furniture."

Higashikata didn't miss a beat. "Nothing's broken."

"I figured."

He tensed, and she smiled, glad to be on top of him for once.

"You fixed it all, didn't you? That's your stand power. I noticed, after you used it on me yesterday."

He stared at her curtly, lips pursed together. Youko waited a moment for a reply, but apparently he was intent on staying mum.

"It must be useful," she commented, "never having to worry about breaking things or getting hurt."

"I can't use it on myself." He said coldly.

"Oh."

Silence. She tapped her pen against the desk in frustration. How was she supposed to work with him now?

"I don't want there to be tension between us, Higashikata-san. I think you're a good kid." She said, finally, sincerely. "If you're having some issues with school, or with this... investigation thing, and it's causing you stress, I want to be able to help."

"I'm good." He curled his lip at her, then turned his body to face the door.

They weren't getting anywhere. Youko sighed, tossing down her pen and clasping her hands together. Well, she had one option left. Not one that Higashikata would be happy with, but...

Her stand unfurled behind her, and the surface of Higashikata's skin broke out into shifting, fleshy hues. A deep red, pulsing in his temples like a tumour; something slithery and pale, cold nerves in his guts; and throughout him, like ligaments between supernatural joints, taut pustule-coloured wires, quivering with his every breath. Strain. There was one snapped thread dangling loosely below his throat.

Higashikata glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then whirled to his feet, backed towards the wall with his stand hulking menacingly out front. Youko flinched back, stand fluttering around her shoulders, and locked eyes with Higashikata.

"What're you doing!?" He snapped out, face white and wrung. "What the fuck're you using that thing for, huh? What's it do?"

"I'm just trying to get a better read on you." She defended. "If you don't want to talk to me, then I need to try understand you in my own way."

"Yeah? What, are you reading my mind or something?" Red, throbbing globs were webbing rapidly throughout his body, eating at the flesh of anything else within him. His eyes were wide, piercing and hateful. "What's your problem? What've ya got such an issue with me for?"

Youko frowned, withdrawing her stand almost reluctantly. After a moment, Higashikata put his away too. His hair was bristling like a frightened cat.

"I don't have an issue with you." She stood up, and Josuke slid one step back. "Can we please talk, Higashikata-san? It's not productive to act like this."

He looked at her for a long while, then turned towards the door. Youko let out an exasperated sigh.

"If you're angry at me, then I'm giving you the space to let it out. Tell me how you feel. You won't be punished for it here." She pleaded, hand on her chest. "I know I upset you last time, so show me how wrong I was, or curse me out if that’s all you want to do. Just say something. Your rage is filling you so thick you could choke!”

Higashikata paused, shoulders hitching. Warily, he looked back at her.

"So that's what your stand does, huh? You're reading my feelings?" He spat. "Ya just thought you could look right through me whenever you wanted, 'cos you're the teacher."

Youko just watched him, not letting herself respond. She didn't want to scare him off again. All she gave him was a nod, a gesture to continue.

Higashikata shoved his hands in his pockets, slowly circling back. He raised his chin at her with a sneer, jaw working.

"Yeah. I'm pissed at you. Good job figuring it out. You think you're so fuckin' good at knowing people, but it took you this long, huh? Guess you're not so goddamn smart." His voice rose sharply, whole form wound so tense he looked ready to rip her apart. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head away, glowering into the wall. "You just say the same shit as everyone else."

A long pause. Youko was just starting to wonder if she was meant to reply, when Higashikata spoke again, shoulders hitching. She didn't need her stand to know that his mood had changed. His face was wrung with something bitter, something hurt.

"I'm not a bad person. Okay?" He spun to face her, glaring, scrutinising. "I was- I was fuckin' nice, right? I was tryna be nice. I try to be good, an' I try to get along with all these fucking assholes who think I'm a piece'a shit no matter what, and they just- - it's never enough to fucking prove anything. No matter what I say or do, you’re gonna hate me, so what am I fuckin' bothering with, huh? What am I bothering with you for?"

The tension had slowly drained from his body, anger leaching from his voice until it finally went soft and slack. Looking away, Higashikata folded his arms, scowling sullenly off at the bookshelf.

"So- so that's what I've got to say. Now just write me up or whatever, and I'll fuck off."

Youko tensed her jaw, looking down at the table and breathing a gentle sigh. It was... a lot. But she finally understood some part of him.

"I'm sorry for making you feel that way. For what it's worth, I don't hate you, and I've always tried to understand your side of things."

There was the but, and she knew he wouldn't like it. She tried to lead into it soft.

"I've always given you the opportunity to explain yourself, Higashikata-san, and I've listened and tried to help. I just couldn't understand why you'd keep the truth from me."

He huffed, rolling his eyes, and she stepped around the desk to properly face him.

"I don't think it's unfair to say that's what you did. You didn't tell me the truth." She tilted her head, observing how his brow twitched. "Were you worried it wouldn't sound good enough?"

Higashikata's mouth squirmed, lip pulling up into a sneer before he dropped it, side-eyeing her reluctantly. His grip around himself tightened.

"I knew ya wouldn't've understood."

"But you didn't give me the chance to." She pressed. "Let me at least try, Higashikata-san. We'll be in each other's lives regardless."

Finally, his form went slack. He turned to face her, resigned, and offered her a half-hearted shrug. Youko smiled, gesturing over to their seats.

"Why don't we talk about what happened today? What was upsetting you so much?"

Kira's house loomed above them as they crept silently up the driveway, each of them tense, ready for a fight. Or maybe it was just Josuke-- each shift of the gravel under his feet made his stomach lurch, all too similar to rubble, too similar in a way that was making him smell smoke. He wanted to vomit. The alleyway was approaching up ahead, and he wasn't ready, wasn't ready for the blood he could already taste, burning in the air like fireworks.

"Josuke." His heart was hammering out of time with his feet, like a badly mixed song, "Josuke." And he didn't think he was still walking, even with the vertigo spinning him forward-

"Josuke." Jotaro clapped a hand on his shoulder, peering into his eyes. "You okay?"

Josuke swallowed, putting on a grin. "Yeah. Totally."

He hated how Jotaro continued to stare, glare curling on his brow. Hated it, hated it.

"Try to stay alert. If there's enemies in there, we'll need you."

"I know." The words were heavy, bitter as cyanide. "I've got it, Jotaro-san."

The dismissive look Jotaro shot him pierced him to his very core. And it was fuel, later, when they fought against Atom Heart Father, and Josuke had never been so focused-- but he still ended up doing nothing as Jotaro took the fucker down on his own. Useless. The word pounded in his skull every step back to the car, every breath, and the knife flew at him over and over as he cowered and cried out like a child. For Jotaro-san. He wished he'd just been stabbed in the throat.

Higashikata sat down heavily, leaning his arms against the table. He frowned for a while, scratching at the wood grain, before he finally spoke.

"Sometimes I just get mad." It was quiet, almost irritated. "And I don't... really think about what I'm doing. That's it. That's all the explanation I've got."

Youko tilted her head and frowned. "But what made you so angry?"

"I dunno." He leant back, idly checking over his hair. A glower was twisting his face. "It just happens. Don't gotta have a reason for being mad, do I?"

"Well, people usually do."

He huffed. Grabbing a comb from his pocket, he started brushing down his hair. Youko pressed her lips together.

"I'm just... not really understanding, Higashikata-san. If it's something you're embarrassed about-"

"I dunno what to tell ya." He said sharply. "S'not like I know what's going on when it happens. I fixed everything anyway, so why does it matter?"

That caught her off-guard. She furrowed her brow, leaning in inquiringly.

"What do you mean, you don't know what's going on?" She said. "How do you feel when it happens?"

He tensed slightly, eyeing her up and down.

"Y'know. I just black out or whatever. I dunno where I am, and I'm all numb an' stuff. It's just... 'seeing red', like, ya never been mad before?"

Youko blinked at him in shock.

"That isn't..." She shook her head slightly, voice raising with alarm. "Higashikata-san, if you're detaching from reality, that sounds like a serious mental health issue. Are you under a lot of stress? Has something happened to you?" Her frown deepened, and she leant in urgingly. "Is this because of that serial killer thing?"

Higashikata stared at her in confusion, slowly folding up his comb. He shook his head, brows drawing together.

"No. It's nothing to do with that, I've been this way forever." He seemed almost skittish, carefully herding his words away from her. "It's not... There's nothing wrong with me. It's just how I am."

His gaze darted away from her, studying the bookshelves. His fingers twisted in his lap. Youko held back from saying anything, hoping the silence would prompt him to continue.

"...I mean, yeah, the Kira shit can be hard." He shrugged, begrudging. "But it's important. Not like I can back out and let everyone die."

Oh. Right. She hadn't even considered it, but he was a healer, wasn't he? The things he must've been involved in, if they were fighting...

For the first time, Youko could really take in just how tired he looked. The creases by his mouth, the deep circles under his eyes. The scars, peppered on his face, tiny cuts and pinpricks she'd never even thought to scrutinise. How badly could a stand really hurt someone? How badly had he seen someone get hurt? She thought back to Jotaro, to the stern and uncaring way he'd told these children to watch their backs, and fury burnt so acrid in her chest that she couldn't keep from shaking.

The bell rang. She only belatedly realised Higashikata was staring at her, meeting his gaze just as he seemed to decide to leave without being dismissed. She let out an 'um', and he glanced back, eyebrow raised.

"...Look after yourself." She said, grimacing resignedly. "I think we should talk more about this next time."

Higashikata shrugged, lowering his head, and slipped off out the door.

Youko double-checked the room number she'd been given. 324, scrawled hastily on a business card for the Morioh Grand-- Jotaro had held it out to her, eyes steady, and told her to contact him if there was ever trouble. Oh, there was trouble alright. She was already scowling as she knocked on the door, and when he answered, it only deepened.

"Hi." She spat, gritting her teeth. "I'd like to talk to you about what exactly you're getting my students involved in, with this 'serial killer' crap. Let me in."

Jotaro stared at her inscrutably, then stepped aside, allowing her to enter. As Youko stalked into the room, she spotted Mr. Joestar, on the couch with the baby in his arms. She shot him a dirty look, then spun back to Jotaro as he shut the door.

"So what’s the thought process here?" She snapped. "Is it easier to convince highschool kids to join your little army? Are they better at fighting murderers? Do you know how much these kids have on their shoulders already? Do you even care!?"

She'd raised her voice-- she couldn't help it. God damn it, god damn him, she'd spent her entire career trying to protect children from hardship, and this piece of shit was walking in here and making everything in their lives worse. She could've punched him, if he wasn't a solid foot taller than her.

Jotaro sighed, and it got her riled up all over again.

"These are children!" She was yelling now, fists clenched and trembling. "They're children, Jotaro, and they're- what? Killing people? Fighting to the death?"

"I'm not making them fight." It was firm, each word clenched like hammered steel. He didn't meet her gaze, jaw working and brows drawn low. "Sometimes they need to defend themselves, and they're strong enough-"

"It's not about being strong enough!"

A wail rung out. Youko whipped around-- Mr. Joestar was rocking the squirming baby, who was quickly vanishing away. He shot them an apologetic look, rising shakily from the couch. Youko glowered at him, upper lip curling.

"Are you fine with all this, Joestar-san? With your abandoned son putting his life at risk?" She spat.

Mr. Joestar looked up at her, bewildered, then dropped his eyes in guilt. Good. He opened his mouth to speak, before Jotaro cut in.

"Ono-"

"Youko's fine." She said coldly.

He sighed, staring at her flatly. "Youko. Are you going to listen if I talk?"

She glared, but nodded silently, crossing her arms. Jotaro frowned and nodded back.

"When I first came here, it was because Josuke's life was in danger." He stared down at her, blue eyes cool and even. "That wasn't something anybody chose. It wasn't something that we wanted. But danger still came to him, because he's a stand user."

Something cold dropped in the pit of her stomach. Her brow loosened slightly, and she swallowed.

"Stand users attract other stand users. As long as he's alive, or any of the other kids, they'll always have to fight." His eyes dropped to the floor, and he took a slow breath. "It's not something anyone can protect them from."

The air went still inside the room, no sound breaking it but the baby's whimpering cries. Youko stared at him, then at Mr. Joestar, jaw stiff with tension.

"But this serial killer... he's not coming to them. He's hiding." She said tersely, brows pinched. "So it's your responsibility to keep them out of the hunt."

"We try to." Mr. Joestar spoke up, making her glance over in surprise. He bounced the invisible parcel in his arms, giving her a sad smile. "We've been doing most of the work on our own, with that Rohan boy. But the kids won't let us shoo them off for long. Not when they’ve lost their friend."

Youko's heart froze in her chest. She looked up at Jotaro with dread, searching; he pulled his cap down to shadow his eyes.

"Shigechi." He said, voice gravelly and thick. "We’re still not sure why, but Kira killed him. He’s why we started this case."

Shigechi. Youko shook her head slowly, eyes wide with horror. The evacuation that day, when the two of them went missing... When they'd searched for him. How much had she not known? All that time Higashikata was smiling at her, all that time she worried about improving Okuyasu's grades...

How much did she not know?

"I need you to tell me about all this." She said slowly, voice a little shaky. "About everything that's happened."

The same dream again.

Josuke broke from half-sleep. Chest heaving, saliva on his tongue, throat constricted only letting in small shallow breaths no matter how hard he gasped, mouth fully open, hands clawing clawing-

He twisted in his sheets. Legs tangled. Trapped kicking thrashing. He was going to die. Going to die. Head light fuzzy eyes open seeing nothing-- it was pitch black, pitch black, his arms were aching, he couldn't breathe --he tore himself out of his covers with a kick of his legs and sat upright, collapsed against the wall. Hair sweaty stuck clinging to his buzzing face, mouth dry, eyes wide, still gasping gasping. His nails were dug into his flesh. Blood clung sticky and dry to his fingers, under his nails, skin throbbing and hot where he'd torn at it in his sleep. Scratched again. Deep bloody gouges, already clotting, criss-crossed with the other ones. Arms and chest. He took a deep breath. Deep breath. It wouldn't go down. Deep breath deep breath. Just a dream. Just a dream he needed his mum.

He crawled to the edge of the bed, thoughts distant, limbs shaking. Needed his mum. Crawl beside her, in the bed, crawl in safe and be held and be okay. But he didn't. He was far too old.

He stumbled to the window, not thinking. Okuyasu's house stood black and lifeless down the street. He covered up, top clinging, too stifling in the hot and choking night-- his bare feet hit the asphalt, still warm from the long-dead sun. Walked. Each shivery half-sucked breath pushed through him by the slap of his feet on bumpy road, cicadas humming, all a scream in his ears. Under the streetlight. White and cold. Josuke felt blinded in the glare of it, and hurried to Okuyasu's lightless yard.

Through the gate, creaking silent. Dry grass crunched under his feet. He scaled the building to Okuyasu's paneless window, sat on the ledge, shadow blotting out the moon-bleached square on the mouldy, swollen floor. Okuyasu was sprawled out on his bed. Limbs spread wide, skin sweaty, unfitted sheet kicked to the side in the awful steambath of the night. Josuke crept down and knelt beside him. He looked okay. Face smooth and peaceful, breath shallow with the gentle lull of deep sleep. Around the silvered scars of his body, he'd been bitten all over by mosquitos. But Josuke couldn't do anything about that.

He waited for a while. Hands hovering sometimes, above his lap, above the bed, but never touching down. He realised he was crying. Breath short as ever, mind still clouded, he hadn't even noticed until the hot tears had fallen and spattered his bare thighs. Josuke wiped them, curling in, one arm clutched to his aching stomach. He was too old to cry about bad dreams. He'd been too old for a while. Ever since the summer he'd shot past his mother, all at once, staring down at the top of her head as she hastily re-measured him for a uniform he'd outgrown before it came. He was twelve, back then. When he'd woke her up crying the next night, scared of his first day of school, she'd just squinted at him in the dark and grumbled 'Can't you deal with it yourself?'

So he had. And he hadn't gone back to her since.

Josuke hovered tentatively for a second longer, before nudging Okuyasu's shoulder. Real gentle, at first. Then again, a little firmer.

"Okuyasu." He whispered.

Okuyasu's eyes shot open. At once, he threw himself upright, limbs flailing, and if Josuke hadn't scrambled back just as fast he would've kicked him in the jaw. They both froze, chests heaving, wide eyes focused on each other. Then Okuyasu's shoulders slumped, and he let out a breathless laugh.

"Jesus." Okuyasu ran a hand through his mussed-up hair, shoving it from his eyes. "Ya scared the shit outta me, man. What's up?"

Josuke opened his mouth.

"Nothing." He swallowed, tried to match Okuyasu's smile. The ache in his stomach deepened. "Just came to see ya."

Okuyasu stopped smiling. Without a word, he held his arms out, and Josuke crawled into them, grateful that he understood. He pressed his cheek against his collarbone, eyes shut, listened to his blood thrum. Okuyasu always ran so hot. His arms were tight around him, fingers in his hair, and Josuke felt more steady than if he'd been buried in the earth. Slowly, the gnawing fear inside him began to fade.

"Didn't think you'd wanna come back here," Okuyasu mumbled, sound vibrating through his skin, "after-" he faltered, fumbled, "I mean- I know you said we weren't gonna talk about it..."

Josuke tensed, heart pounding. Okuyasu sighed.

"Sorry." And he dropped it. And Josuke thanked god that he did.

They stayed in silence for a while. Josuke closed his eyes, let it flood him. The world outside could fall to pieces right then, and Josuke-- wrapped in Okuyasu's warmth, in his scent, in the sound of his breath and blood --would be okay.

Okuyasu's hand slowed in his hair, traced down to his shoulder. "Aren't ya warm?"

"Hm?" Josuke didn't open his eyes.

"Wearin' this." He picked at Josuke's long-sleeve top, shifting against him. "You get cold easily or something? Yer always rugged up. Thought you just liked your school jacket a lot, but..."

"Oh." Josuke blinked, swallowed. He could just say he ran cold. Could. Could.

But Okuyasu understood things. Okuyasu didn't overreact. Shifting up to stop leaning on him, Josuke wrapped his arms around himself, eyes glued to the sliver of mattress between their knees. He braced himself for a moment, fiddling with the end of his sleeve.

"S'just something I don't want people freaking out over." He pushed out a laugh, more just a breath between his teeth. Still not meeting his gaze, Josuke rolled his sleeve up to his elbow.

Okuyasu didn't move for a moment. Josuke heard him let out a soft 'oh', and then he shifted, making the floor creak, and gently took his hand.

"I get ya." When Josuke chanced a glance up at him, he was nodding, eyes focused and calm. He smiled up at him, letting him go. "Y'know I'm not gonna, like, yell at ya, man. S'okay. You put antiseptic on 'em? I can treat them if you want."

Josuke rolled his sleeve down, mouth pressed thin. "They'll heal themselves."

"Be easier if I help, though." Okuyasu countered.

He hopped to his feet, heading towards the door.

"I've got some shit in the bathroom. Gimme a sec, alright?"

Josuke couldn't have protested, because he was already gone.

He came back a couple minutes later, holding a half-empty tube Josuke recognised from colour alone. It was the bottom-of-the-shelf stuff, three-hundred yen from the pharmacy on Main Street. Kneeling down beside him, Okuyasu unscrewed the cap, gestured for him to lift his shirt. Hesitantly, Josuke took it off.

Okuyasu worked silently, tracing each graze with a generous dollop of cream, calloused fingers gentle. Josuke avoided his gaze, hands wringing in his lap. He still had blood all over his fingers.

"What were you upset about?" Okuyasu asked suddenly, making him snap up his gaze.

He swallowed heavily. "Nothing big."

"You can still tell me, even if it's dumb, man." Okuyasu quirked a smile at him, hair falling in front of his face. He combed it back. "I can trade ya. Story for story. Y'know mine'll be dumber than yours."

Josuke breathed out a laugh, not smiling. Okuyasu started to work on him again, and he watched him, cream cool on his sweaty skin.

"Just had a bad dream."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He said, quiet. "Just- same fuckin' dream as always."

He didn't know how to describe it. He found himself trying, anyway.

"S'kinda different every time. I dunno. Different- different people, y'know. But it's always the same shit happening."

Okuyasu hummed, as if he knew it himself.

"It's- y'know, it's like..." Josuke took a slow breath, chewing his lip. He stared down at his free hand, clenched white in his lap. "Like... like, um..."

The words got stuck. But he wanted to say them for once, wanted to spill himself open and let Okuyasu see him, raw and fucked up and ugly and stupid and everything that noone would want in anyone. Because he'd stay, anyway. Because nothing would ever shake him off.

"S-Someone's dying. That's always it." Josuke felt his breath quickening, and swallowed again, mouth far too dry. He felt Okuyasu still, maybe looking at him. "Someone's dying, and I can't- I don't know what to do. I try to fix them, I try to- y'know, just fuckin' do anything... and they just...

"And they..."

Deep breath through the nose. Okuyasu's hand graced his shoulder and Josuke shivered, hanging his head. His hair curtained out the light in the room-- hid everything but Okuyasu from his sight. It wasn't real. The stupid fucking dream wasn't real. But his heart pounded and his muscles tensed as if it really was.

"I can't save them." He didn't want to cry. Okuyasu pressed their heads together, and he did. "I can't- and I just- I just don't wanna be there. I just want it to go the fuck away. So I..."

He faltered.

"Y'know, I just... I just give up. But then I wake up right back where I fuckin' started, and I can't- it won't stop." He shuddered, sob breaking from his throat. "Just keeps fuckin' going 'til I wake up."

He dropped his head down, burying it back in the crook of Okuyasu's neck. A long stretch passed, nothing but the breath shuddering from his throat and the heat of their touching skin. Then Okuyasu broke the lull.

"Man, that's not fuckin' stupid at all! I was gonna tell ya something really dumb. Woulda looked like an idiot following that up."

Josuke laughed. He pulled away a little, enough to meet Okuyasu's face.

"Can't help that one way or another, dude. What was yours?"

Okuyasu flushed, cocking his head away. "M'not saying it."

"Aw, c'mon!"

He huffed, corners of his lips twitching with a withheld smile. "Don't fuckin' laugh, okay? Ya jerk. I just listened to you cry your heart out, so yer gonna have to act all sad an' mopey for me."

Josuke shoved him, snorting. "Didn't cry for that long. Now c'mon, hit me. I'll bust out the fake tears."

"Yeah, yeah." Okuyasu rolled his eyes, crooked teeth bared in a crinkling grin. "Okay, this is from when I was... I dunno. A kid or somethin'. So..."

He frowned, screwing up his nose with thought.

"Wait, hang on, I'm tryna remember it."

"Great story, dude."

"Shut up!" Okuyasu shoved his shoulder, lip curled up in mock annoyance. His eyes darted to Josuke's arm, distracted. "Oh, gotta finish creaming you up."

"Don't fuckin' call it 'creaming me up', man, what the hell." Josuke laughed. He offered out his arm to Okuyasu, letting him continue. "Anyway."

"Anyway." Okuyasu smeared the cream along his wounds, frowning slightly. "Um... Fuck, I dunno. I was mad about some stupid shit..."

He shook his head.

"Whatever. So I was crackin' the shits with Keichou over something, an' he was just lying in bed ignoring me. And I wanted him to, like, look at me, y'know?" He chuckled. "So I started acting like a fuckin' possessed kid-- that's how Keichou used'ta say it. Like, smacking my head on the wall an' screaming an' chewing on my arms. Keichou said he used'ta try stop me, but it just made me keep acting out like that, or whatever. So he just rolled over an' threw something at me and was like, 'Can't ya fuckin' do that outside?'"

He grinned up at Josuke. Gut curling, Josuke grinned back.

"And then I stopped doin' it after that. 'Cos he wasn't babying me anymore." Okuyasu finished with the antiseptic, capping it again. Dropping it down, he rubbed his hands over his thighs, taking a breath. "I mean, I still did other shit, y'know, but not, like- not in front of him. Knew he'd just get pissed off about it."

Josuke stared at him with his heart scraping his throat.

"You still do it?" He tried to say it casual, tried to match the mood, but his face was tense. "Like... hurt yourself?"

Okuyasu thought for a bit.

"Not for a while." It came surprised, almost. He smiled at Josuke reassuringly. "But if I do, I'll let ya know, and Crazy Diamond can just fix it, yeah?"

Josuke rubbed his hands over his arms, mouth twisted, eyes averting to the floor.

"Yeah," he replied hollowly, "he could."