Archive of Our Own

Okuyasu wiped under his eye with the back of his wrist, attempting to satisfy the itch without wiping grease all over his face. An attempt. He likely already had car oil and grime on his face considering his hands were coated in a thing layer. The back of his wrist was surely safer, but even that likely wasn’t clean. Having itched the best he could without risking possible grime in his eye, his hand returned to the car above him.

Being a mechanic was hardly his dream job—not that he had a dream job—but it was work he was capable of. Thanks to Keicho’s special encouragement that consisted of demeaning comments and fierce orders, he’d acquired this job. When Keicho first decided he should get this job as opposed to the others he’d suggested from the magazine ads, they had marched right over for an interview. Okuyasu hadn’t been prepared. Didn’t he need to prepare and make an appointment for the interview and why was Keicho even coming along? His brother had always been a little…overprotective. It had gotten worse in the last few years, to the point where Keicho spent practically all of his freetime observing his younger brother.

There were still plenty of occasions Keicho didn’t feel the need to—or couldn’t—watch him. Doing an interview, especially at this time of the month, was something Keicho wouldn’t normally have concerned himself over. He used to hound Okuyasu to get off his ass and start contributing to the family, but that had stopped some time back. Upon arrival, Keicho had told him to stay put and went to discuss the job with whoever was in charge. If Keicho didn’t already have a job or two, Okuyasu would have been convinced he was the one trying to interview for the position. It took at least five minutes—he hadn’t checked the clock when they got there, but his frequent glances a bit after their arrival told him Keicho had been gone for some time.

He awkwardly stood to the side of the room, avoiding the curious glances the other worker and occasional customer threw his way. It took ages, although luckily not as long as Okuyasu worried, before Keicho emerged from the small corner office the person in charge had ushered him into. A few questions later and they were in the garage. A few answers later and he was told to show up for work at 8am the next day.

Now, for at least half a year, he’d been working at a small local mechanic’s shop. Thanks to whatever Keicho had said back then, he’d often been tasked with the repair and refurbishing of old cars customers brought in. This way, he could work in the back with few worries about interacting with others. He was thankful his self taught skills—paying for car maintenance was expensive and they’d never really had the funds for it—were enough to get this job. Because of his work duties, he never interacted with customers and even rarely with his coworkers. At first, they’d tried to befriend him and invite him to company outings. Before long, they’d learned they needed to do nothing more than nod hello and goodbye to him. It was better—easier—this way. So, when he heard someone speaking, he naturally assumed they weren’t speaking to him.

“Excuse me?” It was these words that caught Okuyasu’s attention.

He froze. Unlike the greeting shouted earlier, this didn’t sound like something a coworker would say. A customer had probably entered the garage to get assistance. His coworkers would quickly hop into action if that was the case. The problem? The voice sounded way too close to him in his secluded little side room.

“Excuse me, sir?” The voice was very close.

Slowly, like a soldier walking through a minefield, he rolled himself out from under the car. Wide eyes intended to search the area when they emerged from under the vehicle, but they hadn’t needed to. Standing right above him was a man. He was smiling down at him. Okuyasu looked shocked.

“Hello.” The man’s smile faltered for a moment from the lack of response. “My friend was told his car would be ready for pickup soon but we didn’t see it out there and no one was inside to help him.”

Okuyasu continued staring at the man. He was talking to Okuyasu, wasn’t he?

The man’s eyebrow raised, a slightly confused look spreading on his features. “Yes, I’m speaking to you.”

Oh god, he’d said it out loud. He sat upright, breaking eye contact. It was too unnerving to look directly at the man. It was also super embarrassing how his actions caused the rolling cart underneath him to slip and snap up to hit him in the back of the head. As he rubbed the back of his head—it hadn’t hit too hard—he glanced through the open door of this room.

“Was there no one out there to help ya?”

“No, we looked around but couldn’t find anyone other than you.”

Other than him, right. He had a job here. He worked here. He didn't know how to work here. A quick glance at the clock told him it was very early in the afternoon. Maybe they’d gone on a group lunch and forgotten to tell these people they’d be close for a little while.

“Um, did they call ya ‘bout it?”
The man, who didn’t seem too thrilled by his questions, shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Um, well they probably closed the shop fer lunch.”

He knew his mannerisms well enough to know the other man could likely see his own uncertainty. Okuyasu used to be far more extroverted—at least compared to Keicho. He was somewhat cheerful and simple minded, so he found it easy to talk to people even if they had very little in common. His looks were a little scary, but his boisterous laugh and contagious smile had always made up for it. Ever since, well, he changed, his life had been different. He was no longer happy and friendly, but anxious and closed off. The way he easily displayed his emotions was no longer charming, but concerning. While he’d once found it easy to talk to people, he now found it difficult to look them in the eye. He wasn’t cut out for customer service, and that's why Keicho had likely advocated for him to be in the back. That's why he wasn’t sure what to do to make the man in front of him satisfied.

The man sighed, a hand placed on his hip. “He was supposed to get the car back by now.”

SIlence. Okuyasu shifted his weight from one foot to the other. More silence.

“I’m not really—I don’t—” What the hell should he say? “I really only work on old cars.”

His words trailed off until they once again stood in silence. What should he do if this man was getting upset? He didn’t know much about how they shop ran things, he’d never really needed to learn. He didn’t want this man shouting at him either. He doubted it would be scarier than when Keicho was angry, but that still didn’t mean he’d enjoy it. Strong emotions—other than his constant anxiety—scared him. He didn’t know what would happen. He worried about what might happen.

“It’s fine. I get it.” The man’s voice was upset; Okuyasu’s shoulders tensed. “Thanks anyways, I guess. I’ll figure something out with my friend and just complain to your boss about it later.”

This wasn’t good. The man was upset. He wasn’t screaming or cursing or throwing things. He was passively upset. Keicho was always scariest when he was passively upset. He couldn’t do this. What would happen? He ran a hand through his hair, having long forgotten about the grease on them. He needed to fix this before something happened. Before he happened.

“Icantakealookatit!” The words tumbled from his mouth like bouncy balls from their broken container.

What help could he even give? What did he even know? Someone wouldn’t be happy in the end. The customer? His boss? Him? Someone.

“Really? I’m not gonna lie, it’d be great if you could.” Yeah, it would be great if he could.

He gave a nod. His feet, ever reliable, quickly walked him in the direction of the garage. He was rather good at trying to flee these situations. Even if his brain wasn’t fully awake, his instincts would kick in. He took a glance at the man following him, seeing him properly for the first time. He may have stared at him earlier, but he hadn’t been paying attention. The man was a bit taller than him. He wore nice clothes and if his hair and face were any indicator, he was well manicured. That scared Okuyasu even more. This guy looked cool and fancy. He had the kind of style Okuyasu wished he looked good in. He couldn’t fuck this up.

“Ah, it's the one right here.” The handsome man pointed at a small green car.

“‘Kay.” He didn’t look at the man, focusing all his attention on the car.

The hood was propped open and the state of its surroundings indicated they’d been working on it before lunch. A quick scan of the car in front of him told him they’d gotten pretty far. There likely hadn’t been much they’d needed to do in the first place. He grabbed one of the tools he’d tucked in his pocket earlier. He could finish the job. Probably.

“I’ll go find my friend while you take a look.” He just nodded at the man, not bothering to look as he heard the man’s extremely expensive shoes stroll away.

He worked on the car for a couple minutes, tightening and adjusting, before he heard footsteps once again. Now that he knew there were people around, he was paying far more attention to his surroundings.

“You could have just taken me there again. You didn’t need to bother him.” A new voice spoke.

“It’s fine, he said he could take a look. Besides, I don’t have time to bring you there. I already drove you around all this morning. I’ve got things to do this afternoon.”

“But what if he can’t finish it?” A pause. “You didn’t think about that, did you?”

Luckily for them, he had managed to finish it. The two friends remained silent, maybe making some sort of eye signals Okuyasu couldn’t see. He started to lower the hood, ready to tell them the good news. The only problem was the action caused him to make eye contact with the car owner. Actually, there was a second problem too. The draft created by the hood’s movement was bad. The small man that stood smiling at him—the owner of this car—smelled very bad. The faint scent of death. Of stale blood. Of corpses. Okuyasu would have run at that moment if it smelled any stronger. It was faint, just a small whisper of the smell, he could handle it.

“Did you manage to fix it?” The man from earlier asked.

He nodded. “There wasn’t much left to do.”

“I can’t thank you enough!”

He hardly smelled of blood, mostly death and formaldehyde. It was alright. It was fine. The man was a couple inches shorter than him. He looked kind.

“Sorry ‘bout the misunderstanding. I dunno know how to do all the paperwork, but I can try. Yer friend said you need yer car back quickly.”

“It’s alright, he just doesn’t want to keep driving me to weird places.”

“I don’t mind driving you around for your story, but I seriously do have something to do later, Koichi.”

The smaller man, Koichi, waved him off and turned his attention back to Okuyasu, who avoided eye contact. A story. That was enlightening information. Except Okuyasu wasn’t that smart and so it actually didn’t enlighten him. He just knew the smell probably wasn’t as concerning then. There was supposedly a reason behind it, but if the other man had been with him it was surprising he didn’t smell of it. Maybe he wasn’t actually there with him the whole time. Maybe that nice cologne smell he caught a whiff of was covering the smell on the man. He cleared his throat, less of an attempt to get their attention and more of one to clear his mind.

“Let’s try filling out the paperwork, yeah?” The two looked at him and nodded.

Without waiting another moment, he led them through the nearest door that would take them inside the small building attached to the garage. As he made his way behind the counter inside, he was surprised to see the small TV they kept inside was turned on. Had someone forgotten to turn it off? Was someone back from lunch? He hadn’t seen anyone else around so it must be the former.

The two stood in front of the counter as he rummaged through the few stacks of paper. They’d started the car repairs, and apparently had meant to finish them today, so he hoped the documentation would be on top of the surface instead of one of its drawers. His training, which had been more of a tour than actual training, included an overview of their organizational system, so he believed he could recognize the proper papers when he saw them. After a minute or so of idle chatter between the friends, Okuyasu finally found what he was looking for. The easy part was over. Now he had to figure out what to do with the documents. As luck would have it, the latter was actually true in the case of the television.

“Okuyasu what—” His boss stepped out of his office. “Oh, we have customers. How can I help you?”

He joined Okuyasu behind the counter, listening to Koichi’s story. He apologized for the situation and took the papers from Okuyasu. He’d handle the documentation, but it’d be good if Okuyasu stayed to watch how he did it. And so, Okuyasu stood there, watching as his boss explained things to both him and Koichi. Although his attention was required by his boss, he’d found his brain wandering. Wondering. Fading in and out with the breaths through his chest. He knew he needed to focus, but it was impossible with so many distractions present. Ears listening to the resting computer. Eyes drifting to the colorful light of the television. Fingers scratching the imperceptible nicks of the countertop. Tongue sampling the stale unfiltered air. Nose searching through cologne cloaked death.

The halt of rustling papers and jingling of exchanged keys, as loud as they were, were not enough to draw him from his stupor. Even the grating metal drawers sliding against metal tracks couldn’t do it. A few thank yous and pleasantries were exchanged, and with the gentle swaying of bodies ready to leave he found himself beginning to focus once again. Except, his focus was drawn neither to his boss nor the customers. It was the TV that caught his attention. And unlike before, where every part of him lingered somewhere else, his whole entire being was focused on the colors and sounds of the small electronic.

“—remember the incident with the victim maimed so horribly, their identity was a mystery. While our reporters were unable to gain access to photos of the body or crime scene, details of the investigation have now been shared. After almost two weeks of citizens hoping the victim was not their lost loved one, authorities have finally revealed th—”

He could feel his stomach sickening, and he knew it wasn’t from his lack of lunch. As much as he hated—no, he feared—the scent of death, the mention of it was just as strong. Death terrified him.

“It's a pity.” His head snapped to his boss. “So many murders lately. Shame that this wonderful town is getting a bad rap. We hardly get people from out of town anymore, but even the locals are starting to wonder if they should leave.”

“Tell me about it.” Josuke sighed. “The schools have been going crazy. Concerns and complaints from parents, unruly behavior and fear from the children, repetitive drills and safety (lectures?), and it's only gotten worse after the death of Kimura.”

“I think I remember that, he was the high school student who died in the attacks months ago, right? Are you a teacher at his school?”

The man shook his head. “Not exactly. I’m just the school nurse, but that means I've been placed in charge of practically half the seminars. It's hard to see the town I've lived in for so long get so dangerous, but it's a completely different thing to have my job suffer from it.”

“It's rough. I just hope they figure out what, or who, is behind these things soon.”

This time, Koichi responded. “The police and government have finally decided to cooperate more with local newspapers and reporters in the hope that they can prevent further cases.”

“Koichi here’s a reporter for The Morioh Post.” Josuke jutted a thumb in his friend’s direction. “He’s writing an article about all the victims right now. Just visited the morgue for it.”

That would explain the smell of death lingering on him. That should have eased Okuyasu, it didn’t really. Koichi also didn’t look too pleased, shooting his friend a wide eyed expression, but tried his best to smile at Okuyasu’s boss.

“Really?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret, but I guess one more person—”

“Two.” Josuke interjected.

“—Two more people finding out about it won’t do any harm. Originally, all authorities thought keeping the details of these cases secret would be the easiest way to avoid mass hysteria. Unluckily for them, the repeated murders caused the paranoia they were trying to avoid. The Post has been working hard to strike a deal with the government and finally succeeded a few days ago.”

“They want him to write up something explaining the similarities of the victims. Their looks, their circumstances, y’know, everything.” Despite his best attempts to avoid specifics, Koichi couldn’t stop his friend’s mouth from opening. “They seem to think it’ll help people who fit the criteria avoid death or something.”

Koichi sighed, his expression twisted in unfortunate acceptance. “It's less about them avoiding death and more about transparency. There have been many complaints since the pattern of death was first noticed a couple months back, but they finally decided to do something about it now. If people do happen to avoid death because of my article I suppose it's just an added benefit.”

He felt his attention drifting again. Fingers to a nearby paperclip. Ears somewhere away from the conversation next to him. Eyes to the unidentified emblem on a pristine jacket. Eyes to the eyes above the jacket, which were now looking at him.

“It’s Saint Laurent.”

“What?” Dumbfounded.

“My jacket. I said it’s Saint Laurent.”

“Oh,” he didn’t know how to hold a conversation, “it’s cool.”

“Thanks.” The awkward pause made him want to smack himself. “Are you into designer brands?”

Josuke’s eyes quickly swept up and down his body—although he was partially covered by the counter so the man’s eyes could only go so far. There was something in his eyes, something subtle, but Okuyasu wasn’t clever enough to figure out what. His hands, fiddling with the paperclip, were sweaty. Bile rose in his throat. He felt himself gulp it down. What the hell was he supposed to say?

“Um, not really?” That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I mean I like ‘em an’ all. They’re cool. But I don’t buy any…y’know…fer me.”

He knew he’d gotten worse with social interaction—that was a side effect of getting too nervous to ever have it—but this may have been the worst conversation he’s had in his life. Was it because he was the way he was? Or was it because he could practically see the cool dude energy radiating off Josuke? Now that he thought about it, it was probably both. Definitely both.

Despite his massive blunder, Josuke only smiled. God, was he just trying to be nice? Koichi and his boss were still chatting. Something about compensation for the miscommunication?Surely Josuke was just trying to pass the time until they were done. He was just a nice guy. Yeah. But why hadn’t he left yet if he was just passing time until they left? He had his own car. He could leave. He said he had things to do. Oh yeah, he was probably waiting to make sure Koichi was fine. What a nice guy.

“Well, designer or not, you have a talent at making your clothes look good.”

Okuyasu’s eyes trailed down to his chest. His uniform looked good? Work boots, brown or just muddy? Blue pants, wrinkled. Black belt, abandoned and absent. T-shirt, untucked and vaguely greasy. Arms, also vaguely greasy. Hair—he couldn’t see—but undoubtedly frizzy.

“Thanks?” This one he did mean as a question.

Josuke really was a nice guy.

“Josuke.”

The two men—why wouldn’t Okuyasu’s attention be drawn—looked at the short man.

“Ah, ready to go?” Now that Josuke’s attention wasn’t on Okuyasu, he felt his shoulders relax a little.

Koichi nodded. Josuke’s gaze landed on him once again—his shoulders couldn’t take a break just yet it seemed—and he offered a smile and a wave. Still confused, Okuyasu offered one back. Koichi smiled at him. He instinctively tried to return it. He probably shouldn’t have. It felt more like a grimace. Luckily, Koichi was nice too.

“Nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

Okuyasu’s awkward wave and questionable smile followed the two friends as they left the building. So focused on their figures, yet so unfocused on everything, he was startled by the hearty smack on his back.

“Good job, Nijimura.”

They’d exited the building. Things were back to normal. He could relax. He was never relaxed, so his natural so called relaxed state was still unrelaxed. Either way, he was back to normal. Other than the surprise compliment from his boss, things were normal. Eyes remained trained anywhere but his boss’s face as he looked in his direction. Okuyasu could see the signs of a smile on his face.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I have half a mind to make you work in the main shop!”

His boss’s words would make normal people happy, but they made him panic.

“It's fine!” He spoke louder and higher than intended. “I’m fine.”

He wanted to say more. He wanted to explain. He couldn’t. His throat had jumped into his heart. Was that the saying? He didn’t have time to think about anything, anything other than bailing. He probably looked like he’d just heard the most tragic news of his life. Honestly, it wasn’t far from that.

His boss chuckled. “No worries, I just said I had half a mind to do it. You do good work on the private jobs. I also promised your brother I’d let you keep doing your thing back there.”

What a relief. Keicho always had his back, even when he wasn’t there. The nausea had subsided. The suffocating feeling hadn’t. He didn’t concern himself with it.

“Thank you, sir.”

His boss gave him another smack on the back. A form of affection? He excused himself. He had work to do after all. That, and he’d had enough social interaction in the past half hour for the next half a year. He’d go back to his old cars. There was no more need to concern himself with customers and his boss’ weird behavior.

He wasn't really surprised or shocked. He just didn’t know how to react at all. The next week was the same as normal. He’d shown up at work, worked on his current project, gone home, and gone through his nightly routine with Keicho. Normal life—as normal as his life could be—meant no surprise interactions and nothing more than a few pleasantries. Dealing with customers who sought him out didn’t happen any more. The memory had even faded. With nothing else surprising, it only made sense for the crazy crazy exchange to be far beyond him. It was like a long lost dream, one where all details were gone and only a vague recollection that it happened remained. Thus, he really didn’t know how to react when he heard his name called by a familiar unfamiliar voice.

“Oi, Okuyasu!”

Okuyasu, who’d been working on the oil tank of his latest project, turned towards the door of this garage. Smiling and walking as if the dirty concrete floor was actually a red carpet lined catwalk was none other than the man featured in his long lost dream of last week. Josuke Higashikata.

“Oh, hi.” He still didn’t know how to hold a conversation with this man. “I didn’t expect to see ya so soon.”

Honestly, he hadn’t expected to see Josuke ever again—that was a benefit of long lost dream-like memories. He shifted on his feet, turning his body so he could look in the man’s direction a little easier. The clothes he wore this time were just as nice as the ones he'd worn last time. In fact, he may not be an expert, but Okuyasu was pretty sure today’s outfit was fancier. The shoes he wore looked especially nice.

A small chuckle left Josuke’s lips. It was warm, one of those laughs that bubbles up from one’s stomach. It also was one of those melodious laughs that never seemed like they were real, like the person who made it wasn’t real. Overall, it was the contagious sort. Okuyasu was glad he’d only been exposed to it for a short period. Any longer and he didn’t know what kind of symptoms he’d develop.

“Yeah, turns out all my friends are having car issues. Maybe it's a curse.”

He didn’t think too hard about the later statement. “Another one?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, I get the honor of being our group’s taxi I guess. Figured I’d stop by and say hi while I waited for her to be ready.”

He didn’t know why Josuke would come say hi to him. He didn’t recall them talking much at all the last time the man was here. Sure he didn’t really remember much of the event, but he could at least recall that. He remembered Josuke being nice. Maybe he really was just super nice.

“Oh, well, hi.”

“Hi.”

If only he hadn’t lost all ability to hold a conversation. He used to be better at this, but now he found himself fiddling with the tool in his hand instead of trying to carry on the conversation. He hadn’t really wanted this conversation to happen in the first place, but now that it was happening he didn’t completely hate it. Josuke had been the first person unrelated to him or his job that he’d talked with the most in a long time. He’d been nice. He seemed cool. As awkward as their silence was, Josuke didn’t show any discomfort. Okuyasu wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.

“Balenciaga?”

Okuyasu didn’t know a ton about luxury brands, but he knew enough to recognize the shoes on Josuke’s feet. It did help that the logo present on the shoes was the name, but that was beside the point. For a moment, the briefest of moments, Okuyasu could see surprise on Josuke’s face. It was soon replaced by a grin that said he was impressed.

“Correct!” A single foot stepped forward, turning this way and that like it was now the model on the runway. “Cool, right? They’re new.”

He nodded. They were cool. He couldn’t ever see himself wearing such shoes, but they looked good on Josuke. It looked like they were made for him. He certainly was a well groomed and well dressed man. As if to prove his point, Josuke held up his arm, revealing a watch that radiated expensive.

“Looks like it's almost lunch time, wanna tag along with us?”

He was invited to lunch. Lunch. He had been invited. While the phrase “thoughts swarming through his brain” could typically be used in situations like this, they couldn’t be used for Okuyasu. There were no thoughts in his brain. What was he supposed to think in this situation? No, how was he supposed to think in this situation?

“Lunch?” Was all he could muster, his voice raising to an octave he didn’t know it could.

“Yeah, lunch. You guys had your lunch around this time when I was here with Koichi. Just thought it might be fun for you to join us.” Josuke shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

It was a big deal. Lunch? Him? With other people? The offer wasn’t even tempting. It was downright horrifying. But he couldn't just say that to someone. Especially not someone like Josuke. Someone who looked at him with a kind and hopeful smile. Why was he going out of his way to be nice? It made things so much harder for Okuyasu. He had no clue how to respond, even though he already knew his answer. He’d just have to try and embrace his old self.

He’d never been a good actor, his dad hadn’t even come to see him perform in his 4th grade play. Keicho hadn’t even laughed at how bad he was. He’d just been Villager 3. But, maybe, since this was just him in the past he’d be able to pull it off. He’d have to tell himself that was the case. He had to at least try.

A hand rubbed the back of his neck, brushing the edge of his shaved hair. “I’d love to, but I can’t. Got some major stuff to do. Gonna eat lunch here when I’ve got the chance.”

It wasn’t really a lie. He did have things to finish. They weren’t exactly time sensitive, but he wanted to get them done as quickly as possible. He also would have loved to join, in the past that is. But, despite all the fear, a part of him still wished he could go. Thus, the biggest actual lie of the sentence was that he was going to eat lunch when he had a chance. He fully planned on skipping lunch, like usual. He knew he should take meal breaks—keicho lectured him enough about the importance of him remaining unhungry—but it was hard to step away from something when he was so focused on it. And sometimes, the thought of eating, the thought of hunger, made him feel sicker than if he simply skipped a meal.

“Oh,” Josuke may have been a little taken aback by his statement, he couldn’t tell. “That’s fine.”

Okuyasu hummed. There was a pause. Josuke awkwardly stared at him as he awkwardly stared at the ground.

“Maybe some other time then?”

For a moment, he made eye contact with Josuke. He was bad at sensing the mood of the room. He wasn’t that great at reading other people. But he could instinctually feel what kind of response Josuke wanted, no, Josuke deserved.

“Sure, sounds good.” Oh no. “So long as I’m not busy, y’know.”

Josuke didn’t deserve Okuyasu.

“Great!”

No one deserved Okuyasu.

“I gotta go meet up with my friend now. She’ll be pissed if I take too long.”

Poor Keicho had no choice but to deal with Okuyasu.

“See ya soon!”

The smile returned to Josuke’s face as he made his exit, waving Okuyasu goodbye. He returned the wave. He returned the smile. He couldn’t return the enthusiasm. Okuyasu didn’t believe in any kind of god, any kind of otherworldly power, but he prayed for them to lift whatever car malfunctioning curse they’d brought upon Josuke’s group of friends. Please get rid of any reason Josuke had to return. He shouldn’t have to interact with Okuyasu. He didn’t deserve it.

With his prayers sent and his smile gone, Okuyasu’s attention once again found the oil tank. What should he do? What could he do? Nothing. He was as powerless as ever. Amidst the oil and gas lingered the smell of an expensive cologne. It was faint, but just enough to remind him it was there. A reminder that he had been there. He’d do his best. He’d try hard. Josuke didn’t deserve someone like him in his life, but, just in case it couldn’t be avoided, he’d try his best.

It only took two days for the sweet sultry tones of cologne to tickle his nose again. The smell, as foreign as it was familiar, altered him before the man it came from even made his presence known. As Josuke stepped into the open garage, a different set of fancy shoes lining his feet, Okuyasu turned to meet him. Awkward as ever, he greeted the man with a salute. Josuke smiled. Okuyasu felt his stomach acid curdle.

“Another broken car?” Although he avoided eye contact, he still faced Josuke’s general direction.

“Not yet.” He wore a simple, yet high end, shirt. “Yukako’s car was ready for pickup.”

Okuyasu nodded. His pants were different too. Classy and navy in color. This was a lot mellower than his previous clothes, but then again, it was a Tuesday. If it weren’t for the colorful shoes on his feet and voluminous hair upon his head, Josuke would look like a regular man in their 20s. Well, a face like his could hardly be considered the look of a regular man, but that wasn’t important.

“Did they miscommunicate the pickup again?” Lunch break had officially started 30 minutes ago.

His hair moved with the shake of his head. “No, luckily everything went well this time. Seems they learned from their past mistakes, yeah?”

“Yeah, glad it's all good. Just saying hi again?” It was just a simple question to keep the conversation moving, but he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer.”

“Not really.” Josuke stepped closer to Okuyasu, although he was still some feet away. “Figured I’d ask about lunch again.”

Ah, just as he feared. He tried to look casual, calm, but inside his heart was acting like an overheated motor. His body ran cold, arteries likely clogged and lacking blood. He could feel the metaphorical steam escaping to and radiating off of his head. He could not move. He could not think. Only his mouth seemed to function still, but who knew how long that’d last.

“I wasn’t plannin’ on havin’ lunch today.”

He shouldn’t have said that.

“That’s not a good idea,” Confusion covered Josuke’s face like a mask.

He needed to get his systems back up and running. This wasn’t good. Still unable to do anything but hope, his mouth made another move.

“Ah, I meant I already had lunch…today.” Fuck. “Well, it wasn’t much of a lunch but I did eat something quickly earlier.”

He was doomed. Where there may have once been concern worked into the fibers of Josuke’s figurative mask, the materials were identifiable now only as disappointment. Maybe this would be good? Maybe Josuke would be so disappointed he’d leave Okuyasu’s life? That…that was a little sad. He didn’t want that. Oh, but he needed it. If this was what interacting with the man did to him, he really couldn’t handle it. His fingers no longer ran cold, and invisible steam no longer rose from his head. He felt himself unwittingly flinch. He’d need to backpedal.

“I…well, I’m just—I’m just not hungry now. I was plannin’ on eating something when I got hungry later.”

Maybe that’d work? Josuke’s brows were naturally arched, but they raised even further thanks to his words. It hadn’t worked. He was fucked.

“I don’t mean to pry, it's not really my business, but it's hard for me to ignore people skipping meals.” Josuke pinched the bridge of his nose as if he remembered something unsavory. “Seems like I can’t escape explaining eating disorders to people during lunch even when I’m outside work.”

That was right, Josuke had mentioned something about being a nurse. Okuyasu believed he’d said it was at a local highschool. Right, at the highschool of the murdered. He was stressing Josuke out more than he should, especially considering the circumstances. He really felt bad.

“Sorry,” No longer were his eyes graced by the rolls of soft fabric, but rather the cold hard concrete.

Josuke sighed. “I don’t mean to lecture. I just get…concerned.”

“Sorry.”

“If you really want to apologize, you should grab your lunch and eat with me.”

Okuyasu risked a glance. Josuke didn't look upset or disappointed, just a little tired, a little hopeful. His brain had still not fully recovered from his engine seizing before.

“Oh, I didn’t bring lunch.”

Fuck.

Another sigh. “Then you’re coming with me to go grab something.”

“I don’t want to eat out.”

Fuck.

“You didn’t bring anything but you also don’t want to eat out.”

“No, I uh—I meant that I don’t want to eat at a place. Y'know, fast food or anything. I’m…I’m trying to watch my figure.” Another raised eyebrow meant another quick and frantic backpedal. “Wait, It's not an eating order thing! It just doesn’t sit well in my stomach.”

Big massive fuck.

“Alright, then we can stop by a convenience store. They should have something that’d work.”

“Oh,” was this a good or bad outcome? “Sure.”

Luckily, Okuyasu was blessed with a muscular figure. He did work out, but not consistently enough to be considered a “gym bro” yet he still had the physique of one. It had worked in his favor. He’d rather seem like some health and protein obsessed gym freak than someone who had questionable eating habits. You know, he didn’t think eating orders was the right word. Wasn’t it eating disorders? Shit.

And so he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Josuke’s car with a convenience store onigiri in hand. The car smelled of Josuke—too much of Josuke. It was overwhelmingly Josuke. The man’s scent, the man’s voice, all much closer in this enclosed space. It was nice, but it was too much and the poor onigiri in his hands became a stress ball. Other than suffocation via Josuke—honestly not a bad way to go, he thought—their short drive and lunch together was surprisingly pleasant.

He was still awkward, oh so awkward, and the smushed state of his onigiri made it a little hard to eat, but it had been nice. It was possibly the nicest interaction he’d had since two years ago. As closed off and nervous as he was, the two of them had managed to keep a conversation going much longer than he would have initially thought. They actually had a lot in common, well, Josuke had a lot in common with Okuyasu’s past self. All of his old interests and hobbies had…fallen off. He hadn’t really pursued much of anything. But, reliving his old interests with Josuke was rather thrilling. It was like he’d escaped his horrible and terrible world, if even only for 10 minutes. He hadn’t experienced something like that since. He and Keicho never interacted like this. For the first time in 2 years, he felt genuinely happy.

Of course, this happiness was still overshadowed by the ever looming cloud of doom above his head, and after Josuke left it all but disappeared under the shedded rain. It didn’t matter. He knew it had happened and that changed everything.

Such bouts of muddled happiness came more often. It was only ever in the company of the one and only Higashikata Josuke. That didn’t matter much since he felt like was almost always in Josuke’s company these days. Sure, they’d sometimes go a day or two without seeing one another, and when they did spend time together it was only for lunch, but that moment of happiness was enough to outshine his anxiety filled days.

After their first impromptu lunch together, Josuke started turning up at the shop more frequently. At first, Okuyasu thought it was just so he could make sure Okuyasu really didn’t have an eating disorder. He’d brought homemade lunches saying they had “too much for me to eat alone” and as stupid as Okuyasu knew he was, even he knew that was a little too convenient. After about a week and a half of taking lunch breaks, Okuyasu began to think Josuke wasn’t just in it for the nurse-ly satisfaction. The two of them had really fun conversations. Okuyasu actually felt himself relax around Josuke. When he went to bed at night, he didn’t lay awake dreading the future. Instead, he wondered what they might eat and talk about tomorrow. Even Keicho noticed this new high and while he questioned and warned Okuyasu, he didn’t pull out the threats. At least, he didn’t yet. That was good enough for Okuyasu. Maybe his life was finally taking a turn for the better, one small moment at a time.

But as long as it takes to build a castle, it can all crumble within a day. It crumbled within a few hours of Okuyasu. It was a reminder. A reminder as to why he was unhappy, why he was anxious, why he’d avoided people. Life was no dream, neither in the day nor at night. It wasn’t even a nightmare. It was just his harsh reality. His unfortunate life. He sat in the dark. He was cold. He was sweaty. He was lost. He was crying. The disgusting taste upon his teeth and the sticky salt of his tears always reminded him. They made sure he never forgot. They made sure Keicho never forgot when he found Okuyasu broken in the dead of night.

The bags under his eyes were more prominent, the slump in his shoulders more visible, and the cloud of doom more violent. Orange painted light peeked through the cracks of the blinds. The small table was set and the sickening smell of eggs and toast permeated the room. Even the mug of steaming coffee made him sick.

“You look like shit.”

His gaze drifted from the spread in front of him and to his brother. The table may have been fully set and breakfast fully prepared, but both of them knew his plate would remain empty. His mug may even remain full. Keicho chased his words with a sip of coffee from his own mug. Okuyasu didn’t say anything, although he felt the words “no shit” dancing on his tongue.

“I told you.” He held back a groan, nose scrunching from a particularly bad whiff of coffee. “You shouldn’t go out with them today.”

The sigh that left him was quiet, almost nonexistent, but Keicho still managed to catch it. The mug leaving his lips revealed a scowl. The mug hit the table a little too hard. Okuyasu had to keep himself from flinching.

“I already said I’d go. Can’t back out now.”

Keicho’s knife scraped the plate as he cut a chunk of toast to pair with his eggs. It was loud. It was painful. He wanted to cover his ears. He winced. Keicho did it on purpose.

“You can.”

“I’d feel bad.”

“Then you shouldn’t have accepted in the first place.”

Another scrape of the knife. Another wince. Another inhale of food that threatened to make his nausea spill over. It wasn’t just the food. He had no response for Keicho. Not even the silence could be considered his answer.

“Tell them you won’t be going.” Okuyasu sighed. “Tell them.”

“They’d ask me why.”

“They don’t need to know.”

“They’d be worried, Keicho.”They made eye contact for a brief moment. “They’d try to find out why, Keicho.”

Keicho was upset. He was almost always upset, but this was more than the standard. He had every reason to be. As sick as he felt and as happy as his new friend made him, he knew Keicho was right. He wanted to curl up, to cry. That would do nothing. Nothing, but earn him a smack or kick from his dear brother. He couldn’t handle that right now

“You should have listened.”

“I know.” His voice was rough, soft, and pained.

“You should have cut it off early on.”

“I know.” His voice was on the verge of cracking.

“You never listen and this always happens. If you’d just—”

“I know.” Head lowered, his voice was hardly a whisper.

Keicho sighed. It was his frustrated sigh. He had to deal with such an ungrateful, stupid brother. If only he had a brother who listened. If only he didn’t have a brother at all.

“If they’re going to cause trouble, then we’ll need to go.”

Okuyasu nodded, regretful.

“Put your affairs in order. We’ll rediscuss it then.”

Okuyasu nodded, ashamed.

The smell outside wasn’t much better. The smell of grass, people, dogs, and death. Death of flowers, of plants, of the squirrel on the side of the road, of the worms trampled by the feet of passersby. It was past 11, or as Josuke had called it, optimal brunch time. He had been invited to a gathering of friends. A hangout? A meal? A gathering. Friends of Josuke, People Josuke didn’t want to consider friends, Josuke himself, and, unfortunately, Okuyasu. He’d been thrilled. He was no longer thrilled. He felt as he always did on days like this—actually, he thinks he feels worse—sluggish and upset. He was like a starved injured animal at the back of the pack, abandoned and with no hope for continued life. Except he wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t injured. That was the problem.

He stepped inside the western-style diner he’d only ever walked by. It wasn’t too busy inside, but it was loud. It was cluttered. It was filled with far too many people. He’d tried to look as presentable, as unsad, as possible, but there was only so much one could do. Before he could go completely mad by the sound, the scent, of so many people squished into a place reeking of grease and food, his eyes caught sight of his once beautiful reprieve waving to him. He headed over, trying his best to smile. He could not smile.

“Hey.” Josuke greeted, an ever warm smile gracing his lips.

“Hey.” Okuyasu replied, face just barely avoiding a grimace.

He sat in the booth next to Josuke, who’d been patting the vinyl cushion in invitation. Across from him sat two people he’d never met, a man and a woman. He wasn’t too keen on meeting anyone at this moment, let alone complete strangers.

“You good?” Josuke offered a concerned look and Okuyasu couldn’t bring himself to feel his usual joy at the expression.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“What stupid shit could you have possibly done last night to make you look like this?” The unknown man scoffed.

“Be nice, Rohan.” Josuke spit.

“Hopefully not hard drugs.” The woman stated.

“Yukako, please.” Josuke sighed, fingers moving to rub his forehead.

He couldn’t be bothered by their words. Long abandoned were his goals of making a good impression. Okuyasu shrugged.

“Oh, y’know.” They didn’t know.

“Definitely hard drugs.” The woman’s phrasing was as if she’d intended to mutter the words, but they weren’t any quieter than the line she’d spoken before.

Josuke shot her a look. Okuyasu looked at the menu. He really should have said no. Why had he thought this would be different? Why had he thought he’d be different? He just hadn’t thought. He felt an arm slink around his hunched shoulders, a typical form of comfort that now made his heart ache.

“Just ignore them, they’re assholes.” He didn’t know why they were friends then. “But are you really okay?”

The hand he felt creeping towards the side of his face was enough for him to act. He nodded his head, hoping a firm affirmation of his good state of being would keep Josuke from initiating any further physical contact.

“Yeah, just—didn’t sleep much.”

Josuke offered a consoling smile and pat to the shoulder. He’d let Okuyasu leave it at that, whether because of Okuyasu’s acting or his kindness he wasn’t sure. He really hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. He felt the fingers on his shoulder lightly tapping a tune, one he didn’t have the energy to try and figure out.

“Koichi and Shigechi, our other friend, said they’d be running late. Didn’t say why, though.” Josuke offered a shrug.

“Work.” Rohan spoke.

“The story that got pushed back?” Rohan nodded.

Okuyasu was the odd man out in a group of friends. The old him would have already introduced himself, tried to memorize everyone’s names and gotten the explanation for the inside knowledge he didn’t know. The current him was glad no one explained the context to him. He wasn’t in the mood for much of anything.

“What about it?”

“Ask him yourself.”

Josuke clicked his tongue and Rohan copied Okuyasu, pretending the menu was far more interesting than it was. He had the look of someone who always ordered the same sort of thing at places like this, so he probably didn’t even need to look at the menu. Okuyasu already knew his order as well. It seemed the two had a bit in common. Their proximity allowed Okuyasu to feel Josuke physically turning his attention to the friend at his side. His arm was still splayed across Okuyasu’s shoulders.

“You said you haven’t been here before, yeah? I can give you a few recommendations.” Josuke had gotten quite familiar with his tastes during their many lunch sessions—although Okuyasu wasn’t all that particular in the first place. “Next time, I’ll bring you to that really cool restaurant I was telling you about. I think you’d like it.”

Okuyasu nodded, eyes still examining the menu and not retaining any of the information. He wanted to tell Josuke that he wasn’t going to eat anything, but that phrase was practically a death sentence around the man. One second you’d say you didn’t want to eat and the next you might choke from the food being shoved down your throat. He’d learned to word his responses a little more carefully.

“My brother made breakfast before I came, I’ll probably just have some coffee.” He wouldn’t finish this one either.

A small whine left Josuke, a noise Okuyasu hadn’t really heard before. “Oh come on, he ruined all the fun!”

“Why did you eat it if you knew you were coming here?” The woman, Yukako, demanded.

“You haven’t met my brother.”

His brother was almost worse than Josuke when it came to Okuyasu’s meals. While Josuke would only metaphorically shove food down his throat through convincing arguments and the occasional puppy eyes, Keicho would literally and physically shove food down his throat if he refused to eat it. He acted like Okuyasu was a dog who wouldn’t take a pill unless its jaw was pried open and clamped shut until it swallowed. This morning had been a bit of an exception to the rule. Keicho was a lot ruder, meaner, after nights like the one before, but it rarely extended past his word. As rough as he was, he still cared for Okuyasu. If he didn’t, he would have left him behind long ago. Okuyasu wished he had.

“Sorry we’re late!” Koichi slid onto the booth seat opposite of Okuyasu.

A man similar in stature, but not looks, to Koichi sat down next to him, giving him an unsure smile. He gave a nod back, having given up attempts at a smile.

“It’s all good, Okuyasu just got her a few minutes ago too.”

And so their orders were taken and seats were switched—Shigechi, actually Shigekiyo he learned, wanted to be close to the wall so he could plug in his laptop to show them all something—making way for idle chatter among friends…and Okuyasu. He was content with listening and offering the occasional commentary as he tried to stomach the coffee in front of him. As Shigechi explained whatever he’d brought up on his laptop, Okuyasu felt his own attention drift to the television behind the countertop to his left. He felt his stomach drop.

“—street. Authorities have not yet revealed the details of this victim, their identity or time of death. All that is known is the injuries of this victim match that of the previous 6 cases currently being investigated. As with the others, the remains of an animal—unfortunately those of a local’s precious family dog—were found nearby, injuries matching the—”

“Is that what your work call was about?” Yukako had also been watching the news report.

Although the others had been listening to Shigechi rather intently, it was hard to miss such a report, especially when they’d already gone through this six times prior. Okuyasu was definitely going to be sick.

“Oh, yeah, unfortunately. My article was already delayed because of some consistency errors, but they called me saying I’d need to refer to this case and get the article out within the next few days. I think this one really freaked them out. It was the closest one to town yet.”

While everyone’s eyes were on Koichi, Okuyasu’s were looking at the table in front of him. Josuke too had apparently been looking elsewhere, for Okuyasu saw his attention turn from the TV and towards him.

“Hey, don’t you live near there?”

It had been a comment laced with concern, one meant just for Okuyasu, but being shoved into a small booth table with other people meant it was easy for the others to overhear. He wasn’t even trying to hide the horror on his face. He couldn’t do anything anymore.

“You live near there?” Koichi spoke a little louder than he should have, causing Okuyasu’s eyes to narrow in pain a little. “Could you let me have an interview with you? Or help me figure out who would be the best to interview in the area?”

The man sounded a little too excited, but Okuyasu didn’t blame him. The single benefit—was it really a benefit though—of experiencing many murders meant the fear was a little dulled. Not to mention, he’d just found an easy way to get more information. Okuyasu didn’t know Koichi well, but he did know the man had been working extremely hard on this article. He wouldn’t help. He couldn’t help.

“Koichi.” The scold seethed from between Josuke’s clenched teeth.

“What? It’s tragic, I know, but that's all the more reason to get this article out there faster.”

“No, I mean,” Josuke spared Okuyasu a quick glance, voice lowering to the quietest whisper he could manage, “what if that was someone he knew?”

Koichi quieted, the realization finally settling in. Was the expression on his face that bad?

“It isn’t.” They all looked at him. “It’s not someone I know.”

“How do you know?” Josuke and Koichi both shot shut up glares at Shigechi.

“My brother was fine when I left and we don’t really know our neighbors.” It was obvious why he knew.

“Hey,” Josuke’s arm had returned to his shoulders, trying to squeeze them as reassurance now, “is that why you didn’t get much sleep last night?”

Okuyasu shrugged, the current situation making him very uncomfortable. “Dunno.”

And with that, Okuyasu finally had enough. He stood—hand on the back of the booth supporting him—and Josuke had to catch his own arm from falling to the seat. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was sick. He was disgusted. He was panicked. He was in need of a way out. Suddenly, the environment around him seemed all too overwhelming. He could smell each individual food on their table, which mug had decaf and which did not. He could hear the television drowning everything out and yet so loudly was the breathing of everyone in this restaurant. He could feel the heat radiating from the kitchen area and the sticky vinyl of the booth back against his hand. He could see things, things that weren’t there, things he didn’t want to see, and things he feared. In the reflection of the glass windows, he saw himself and he saw a beast.

He barely heard or felt the thanks and apologies leave his lips. He barely heard or felt his footsteps along the tiled floor. He barely heard or felt the door as he swung it open and stomped outside. As per earlier, it wasn’t much better outside. In fact, there were more people out now. He couldn’t escape the smell of people, the smell he feared waking up to most. He could tell Josuke had run after him. He could tell the man was shouting his name. He knew he responded. He said it was fine. He was okay. He just needed a bit. He needed his brother. He thought he might have heard Josuke offer to walk him home, saying he was worried, saying it wasn’t safe. Okuyasu felt his head shake, no, he felt his whole body vibrate. He felt himself choke out the word “please” and he knew Josuke was no longer behind him. He was no longer being followed as he staggered home, mind swirling with too many thoughts and yet no thoughts at all.

There was a park nearby. It wasn’t exactly abandoned, but it was a little worn down and rarely used. It was strange when actual children played on it, seeing as rowdy teens tended to be the more frequent visitors. Yet, as usual, there was no one visiting it. Even Okuyasu, who sometimes perched on the old swings, had passed it by. Not far from the old park located near his home, was a brook. It was home to small aquatic life the children would try and catch. While it was small enough that anyone on their way to adulthood could leap over it with minimal effort, a small wooden bridge could be found stretching over it.

Much calmer than he had been this morning, but still very much agitated, he let himself walk along the side of the brook until he neared the bridge. He’d told Keicho that he sorted out his affairs. He only needed to talk with his boss. What happened earlier couldn’t quite be considered settled, but he wouldn’t try seeking them out again. It was a terrible lie, for who comes home sweating and gasping for breath when they’d calmly sorted out their relationships. Keicho didn’t call him out on it. He’d simply led Okuyasu to his room, placed a cup of cool water inside, and shut the door.

It had probably taken a couple hours for him to finally realize he was sitting in a corner of his room. He’d drank the water. He didn’t take a sip. He gulped the whole thing down, ignoring the couple drops straying down his chin. It had probably taken a couple more hours for him to be in a state capable of conversation. He left his room. Keicho gave him another glass of water. They talked. They probably talked for a couple more hours. He never looked at the time, even now, but the sun slowly fading into the horizon told him he’d been trapped inside for a while.

Keicho had gone to the store. He needed to get some supplies. Okuyasu hadn’t wanted to be alone, but they both knew he shouldn’t go to the store. The air in their house was stagnant, filled with the scent of his sweat and fear. He couldn’t stay there either. After Keicho left—he’d still told him his plans—Okuyasu stepped outside. He’d found himself by the park. He found himself by the river. He found himself where he was right now. Today had been a blur. It didn’t feel real. Maybe it was fitting that his last dream-like encounter with Josuke had been that of a nightmare.

The subtle sound of crushing grass alerted him to a nearby presence. He didn’t pay it any mind. He didn’t care who—or what—it was. He just took deep breaths of the air that should have been much fresher than it was.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called.

He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t need to look to know it was Josuke standing a few feet from him at the side of the tiny river.

“Hey.” He didn’t have much of anything to say.

A rock clattered down the bank and plopped into the water. Josuke was shifting from foot to foot. He’d kicked it in.

“Sorry about Koichi and Shigechi.” Another rock traveled down the previous one’s course. “Shigechi is just…he’s always been a little sensitive. And Koichi, well you know he’s been working hard on this article for a while now. Its release being pushed back was stressful enough, but now this new case—”

He heard a tiny sigh escape Josuke. The man was stressed about this. Maybe it was good they hadn’t left their last interaction as the one from the diner. Okuyasu couldn’t acknowledge that. He couldn’t do much at all in his current state.

“It’s fine. I get it.” He did understand.

A rock fell down a different course. Okuyasu was the one who had kicked it.

“Everyone was worried after…after you left like that.” He doubted anyone other than Josuke was that concerned. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Okuyasu nodded. “Things have just been…extra stressful as of late. You should tell ‘em I’m sorry fer my outburst.”

“Alright.” Whatever his personal opinions were on the statement, Josuke had decided to just accept Okuyasu’s words.

A couple pebbles moved, but none of them fell far enough to hit the water like their predecessors. Okuyasu looked at the sky, seeing the colors that had been reflected on the water’s surface.

“If you want to tell them yourself,” Josuke’s voice was quiet, “some of us are meeting up a little later to help Koichi with his research.

Okuyasu slowly shook his head. “I don’t got it in me.”

“Okay.”

The two stood in silence. Okuyasu wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t excited. He was tired. Nonetheless, he knew he should actually wrap things up with Josuke. He’d been given a chance to do so. He needed to take it.

“Things have been complicated.” He could feel Josuke’s eyes on him. “My brother and I are probably going to move soon.”

“Oh,” was all Josuke said.

All Okuyasu did was nod. They stood, yet again, in silence, relishing what Okuyasu knew to be their last moments together. Despite the sudden chaos, his time with Josuke had been very enjoyable. He did regret it, for a part of him couldn’t help but say that none of this would have happened if he’d turned down Josuke’s attention. He regretted it, but this short time would still be a precious memory for him. A minute passed. Two. He looked at Josuke, actually looked at him. He gave the closest thing to a smile he was capable of.

“It was fun. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Josuke looked back.

“Yeah.”

Those would be the final words he heard from Josuke. He turned on his heel and left. It didn’t matter if Josuke wanted to say more. It didn’t matter if he felt more sadness creep up on him. None of it mattered. All that mattered was he was done. Keicho will be home soon. They’d leave soon. He’d wake up at daybreak and prepare for a journey somewhere neither him nor Keicho knew of. This was their way of life. It had been for the past two years. He’d worry about everything once he was in their old pick up truck, staring as the world whisked by. For now, he’d eat dinner. He’d go to bed.

He hated this taste. He feared this taste. He hadn’t expected to taste it again so soon. He’d expected to wake up to light peaking through his blinds and flickering on his ceiling. He hadn’t expected to see the starry night sky. Not again. Not so soon. He felt panic swell in his chest.

Sure, he had plenty of nightmares like this, that's why his life was the nightmare he could never escape from. Whether awake or asleep, he always found himself back here, staring at the dark night sky and feeling the ground beneath him. He felt every single strand of grass on his body. He didn’t feel that cold. The grass didn’t feel like it was plastered directly to his skin. He sat up, slowly, afraid.

No longer focused on the grass caressing his all too sensitive body, he wanted to gag. He could feel it, on his hands, under his nails. He could smell it, on his hands, under his nose. He could taste it, on his lips, in his throat. The scent, the taste, the sticky feel he hated—he feared—so much. As his senses were consumed with the overwhelming existence of blood, he felt his body sway. It wasn’t quite right. His body wasn’t. It was wrong. The tears rolling from his eyes felt odd too. They didn’t run how they should.

Luckily, blood didn’t make a sound. At least, the blood on him never made a sound. Death didn’t make a sound. So, when he heard the sound of running water, he was able to pull himself towards it. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t focus, but he needed the blood gone. It needed to be gone. His hand burst through the surface of the water. He’d gotten there. Rather than leaning down to drink or cupping the water in his hand, he acted like a beast. He was a beast. He submerged his entire upper half into the cool water, now contaminated by the blood of who knows what. He could still taste it, still feel it. He frantically shook his head, hands digging into the rough ground at the bottom of the stream. Hopefully this would help. Hopefully, this would get the blood off of him.

He didn’t hear a gasp as his body left the water, rather, he heard a sound he’d never once heard before. It was strange, just like his body, just like him. He could see it, the water. He could see the ripples left on its surface from where his head had emerged. It wasn’t a full moon. Rather, the moon was no more than a little sliver in the sky. He could see far too well. He could see his hands, still in the water, and not looking like hands. He could see his…paws. As the water began to settle, he could see his face. He could see his…fur. Another guttural, horrible sound left him. He was not human. What was more concerning was that he was not a bear.

He scrambled back from the revealing water. His limbs felt too long and yet too short. He could hear his joints crack and hiss. He could feel his bones aching. He shouldn’t be awake like this. He shouldn’t even be like this. Panic coursed through him. It didn’t feel right. It felt disproportionate, like too much and yet too little for the inhuman body he had right now. He still smelled blood, he still felt the blood. He heard cracks. He felt his foot slip into something squishy, gooey. He didn’t want to look down. He didn’t want to see it. He did anyway.

Looking past his long yet stout legs covered in wiry dark hair—fur he supposed—he saw it. He didn’t know what it was he saw, he never knew, that didn’t matter. He still saw it. He saw what he saw every time this happened, a dead body. As unintelligible as the corpse was, having been mauled by claws and covered in blood, he knew it wasn’t human. It was large enough that he knew it wasn’t yet another stray cat, but small enough that he worried it might be another pet dog. He was going to be sick. His body was sick. His body was wrong. He was wrong.

He felt himself gag, but tried to hold back the barf. If he didn’t he’d taste whatever it was he stepped in again. This time, he’d actually remember the taste. With weird hand-paw caging his mouth, he pulled his foot out of the mutilated carcass. He felt another heave surge through him. Foot now free, he scurried away from it. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get away from it. He needed to get away from himself. How could he get away from himself? Why was he in this state? Whenever he woke up like this, he felt confused and broken. Now, he was broken. He didn’t know why.

He never remembered what happened when he shifted. In fact, if it weren’t for the blood and nudity and waking up in the middle of nowhere, he may have never known he shifted. Keicho always watched him, listened for him—or lack of him. He could fill in the gaps. But he knew this shouldn’t happen. He may not remember anything after the insurmountable pain of his body changing, but he knew he never ended up like this. He wasn’t supposed to end up like this, something between a bear and a human, something far too monstrous to exist.

He needed Keicho. He’d help with this. He’d know what to do. He’d always led Okuyasu. He’d help him, no matter what helping meant. That was the deal they’d struck 2 years ago. He’d wanted to die, covered in blood mostly not his own and with a bite far too painful on his shoulder. Keicho hadn’t let him die. He said he’d be the one to kill Okuyasu once he’d done the unspeakable. Yet, the first night he woke up cold and bloody after comminiting the unspeakable, Keicho did not end him. He told Okuyasu it was fine. The woman hadn’t been important. In fact, the world would be better with her dead. Instead of death, he brought rules and chains. Okuyasu agreed to them readily. Even kill after kill after kill of people Okuyasu knew weren’t so unimportant or horrible that the world would be better without them, Keicho hadn’t ended him. Now, two years after he’d first been turned, he knew the unspeakable had truly come.

At first, it had been months. Over time it became a month. Recently, it had become weeks. Now, it hadn’t even been a day. He’d finally succumbed. He’d finally fallen prey to his own instincts. He wasn’t hungry. That was the problem. He’d eaten. He’d killed. He’d eaten because he killed.

He didn’t know when he’d started running, but he knew it didn’t last long. He was more powerful than normal, having not fully become human, but because his body was oh so wrong, movement felt weird. Movement hurt. He could feel his bones pop out of place. He could feel his joints bend in ways they shouldn’t. He had to stop. He had to stop because his body hurt and ached and felt so so wrong. He had to stop because he once again smelled blood. The strong overpowering smell of blood. The worst smell of blood, the blood of humans.

He hadn’t meant to collapse to the ground, but he wasn’t quick enough to keep himself from doing so. Even if he was quicker, he wasn’t sure if he could have stopped himself. The impact was worse than he thought. The ground was hard and his body was weak. As each joint, each bone, each part of his incorrect body hit the ground, pain shot through him like a bullet. He was crying. He’d already been crying. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t sob. It was so painful he could do nothing but feel his body convulse from the shots of pain. He thought he may pass out from the pain, but it ended just before he could do so.

His vision spun. He had no coherent thoughts. His nose was coated with the scent of blood. He couldn’t feel his body. Although he was wide awake, he felt like he’d faint. He was completely blank. When he finally felt himself returning, his vision spinning less and less, he felt pain ripple through his body yet again. This time, he heard the scream. A mostly human scream. He knew this pain. He hated this pain. He usually passed out before shifting back, but he wasn’t always blessed by the pseudo-sleep. Shifting—turning—always hurt. The human body was not shaped like an animal's. He bet that even if weremonkeys or weregorillas existed out there, even they suffered the pain he did as he shifted. His body wasn’t meant to be that of a bear’s. A bear’s body wasn’t meant to be his. As such, his bones, his muscles, his organs, his skin, all shifted and crawled and snapped and moved and snapped again. It went on and on and on until his body became that of a bear’s. That meant when his body no longer was a bear’s it must crush and snap and squish and snap again and repair itself, to become human once more. It was painful. It was the most painful thing he’d ever felt.

His body was no longer wrong, but it was sore and painful and utterly wrecked. He could feel the tear trails on his cheeks, leftovers stuck in his teeth, blood and dirt under his nails, and the congealing blood on his foot. He laid there. He hardly moved. He would have liked to lay there until Keicho—and death—found him, but he knew he couldn’t. His brother probably knew he was gone. He was probably searching for him as they spoke. His scream would alert him as to his location. His scream would alert others, extra vigilant after the murder just last night, and he would not be safe. Sure, he’d die anyways, but he’d rather die by his brother’s hands than deal with the wrath and hatred of the townspeople who sought vengeance.

His whole body shook as he desperately pushed himself to his feet. He could tell he wasn’t injured from when he fought to kill, but shifting was an injury unlike any other. Even full body workouts couldn’t make him so sore and sluggish and in pain. He could see the body. It was the source of the overwhelming scent of blood. He almost never saw the body, whether because it was so mutilated or he’d shifted far away from the scene of his crime. Worst of all, he saw this body and he knew it. Instinctually, one hand sprang to his mouth while the other braced himself against the trunk of a nearby tree. He wouldn’t let himself retch and taste the disgusting contents of his stomach. He wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t.

Because he couldn’t, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to erase the face from his mind. The lifeless face of a man he’d just met earlier today. The body of a man who he’d sat next to in the cramped diner booths. Closing his eyes wasn’t much help. His vision was too good. Eyes open or closed, it did not matter. He could see Shigechi’s dead body clearly. The gory scene in front of him was all too clear. Knowing that staying here would prove no more useful than leaving, he tried to push himself forward. He needed to leave. He couldn’t be caught. He didn’t want to look any longer. He needed to find Keicho. He would suffer if he looked any longer.

He’d only taken a few steps when his head snapped to his left. Any normal person wouldn’t have heard it. Anyone who hadn’t been forced to turn into a beast whenever his emotions ran too rampant wouldn’t have noticed. Unfortunately for whoever had snapped the smallest of branches, Okuyasu was far from normal, he’d been so for two years. Something was here. Someone was here. They were alive. They had seen.

Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. He no longer worried about his wrecked body or the puke threatening to spill from his guts. Now, all he needed to worry about was getting what made that sound, covering his tracks. The shift from sickly wobbly man to strong speedy beast was so quick, that whatever had made the sound had no time to react. It had come from a tree nearby, the one with the thickest trunk. He didn’t intend to kill, he really didn’t like how much he killed, but they’d need to be silenced until Keicho arrived. His brother always knew what to do.

And so, as he lunged forward, his hands reached out, ready to grab onto something’s neck and hold on tight. Luckily—or unfortunately—his senses were seriously way too good. The only thing on his brain was protecting himself, and yet, the smell of his favorite unfamiliar turned familiar cologne had him screeching to a halt. He’d recognized the thing, the person, hiding by that tree, but that wasn’t enough to stop his momentum. It had only been rough for him to slow and turn enough to narrowly avoid them. Instead of finding himself with hands around a neck, he found himself tumbling onto the ground, reminding him that he was still in pain. He pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he could.

“Shit.” He heard the man curse.

He could hear the fear, he could smell the fear—or was that just blood— and he could hear the fearful scurrying. Normal people didn’t have great night vision. Normal people’s eyes adjusted to the dark, but that didn’t mean they could see well in it. Even if they could, he was sure hardly anyone could recognize him when he was in such a state. He had, undoubtedly, scared the man. Josuke was now desperately trying to escape.

Okuyasu was even more worried. Josuke hadn’t stood. Josuke wasn’t running. Josuke was pulling himself along the ground. He could hear what he assumed to be a leg dragging through the forest floor. Josuke was injured. He’d injured Josuke. It didn’t matter if Josuke had night vision and recognized Okuyasu, he would still run. He’d run from the killer. A sob rang through the forest. Josuke stopped. Despite the wetness of his cheeks, it seemed Okuyasu was not out of tears yet.

His throat felt dry and rough although he probably hadn’t used it much that night, and yet he still felt the sobs rush out of him like the blood had out of his victim’s bodies. Josuke was a good guy. Josuke was nice. Josuke was a good and nice guy to him. He’d cared about Okuyasu. Okuyasu had returned his care with pain. He really never should have let Josuke get close.

Too focused on his own tears, Okuyasu didn’t hear the telltale sign of Josuke’s leg dragging through the grass. He didn’t see Josuke getting closer. He only felt the man’s presence when he was right in front of him, Josuke’s fearful eyes looking directly at him.

“Okuyasu?” His voice trembled and it was hoarse.

Okuyasu’s head was the clearest it had been that whole day, but that only meant it was even harder for him to find words. He was never that good with words.

“Shit.” He cursed.
Josuke didn’t move.

“Fuck.” He screamed.

Josuke didn’t move.

“I’m sorry.” He cried.

Josuke moved. He’d pulled himself even closer. He couldn’t see Okuyasu as well as the man saw him. Messy hair, ripped clothes, bloody half-dead leg, and undoubtedly fancy shoes probably abandoned at some other location. Okuyasu didn’t know how he looked, didn’t know if he’d truly been able to return to being fully human—well, as human as a werebear could ever be. All he knew is that he was covered in disgusting fluids, his hair was still wet from his previous attempts at cleaning himself, and he was completely and utterly naked. While some may have considered the last bit the most unfortunate, Okuyasu didn’t have time to think about any of that. He could hardly process the fact that one of Josuke's shaking hands was reaching for his face. It only processed after the man’s cold hand had found its way to his cheek. He jolted. He slapped the hand away. There was fear in his own eyes.

“Shit. Sorry.” More sobs rippled through his body.

“It's fine.” He heard Josuke swallow. “It's you.”

He didn’t seem nearly as broken up or afraid as he should be. Okuyasu cried even more.

“I’m sorry!” Even through tear-blurred vision, Okuyasu could see Josuke’s eyes; he could see the relief in them as they looked at him.

Josuke didn’t understand. Josuke just moved a little closer, not touching him this time. A few tears rolled down his face, but they weren’t tears of fear or sorrow. The relief sickened Okuyasu.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Josuke sniffled. “We just—we just gotta get out of here.”

He didn’t get it. Okuyasu wanted to tell him he didn’t get it. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get away. He needed to flee because it was Okuyasu. He needed to escape because his tormentor was, in fact, still here.

“No—” he choked out, his sobs severely hindering his speech capabilities.

“Okuyasu, please, we need—” Josuke’s hand rested on his knee, “Shit!”

His haid recoiled and if it weren’t for his current tear-ridden state, Okuyasu would have seen the shock on Josuke’s face. In a completely different situation, he could have maybe even seen a blush. He didn’t see Josuke’s expression, but he could feel Josuke actually looking at him now, eyes having only rested on his face prior.

“Holy shit.” He could tell just from tone alone that Josuke’s eyes were wide. “You’re naked.”

Josuke was looking at Okuyasu’s face, trying to convey his astonishment, his confusion, his concern, but Okuyasu didn’t look back. He was too lost in his tears, although they were now silent and almost dried up. The hand that covered Josuke’s mouth wiped at his mouth, cheeks, chin. He was utterly shocked.

“Okuyasu,” his voice was a fierce whisper, emphasizing the state the other was in, “you’re naked.”

Okuyasu not responding wasn't the response Josuke was looking for. Okuyasu’s tears had stopped and he no longer cried out. He was tired. He just didn't have a response.

"Okuyasu." Josuke stressed his name, trying to get a reaction from him.

"Yeah." That was the only thing he could think to say, because Josuke had only pointed out the obvious.

Now that he thought about it, Okuyasu remembered not caring what he wore to bed. He’d never turned two nights in a row. He hadn’t thought it would matter what he wore because of that. Oh such hubris. He really liked that shirt. While he mourned the loss of such a reliable and cool t-shirt, he noticed Josuke shifting. He didn’t move any closer to Okuyasu or any further away. He was just moving, likely because he was uncomfortable. Right, Josuke was injured.

“Why—”

“We need to get ya out of here.”

He went from wailing like a lost child one moment to a serious adult in the next. Such a startling change shocked Josuke, who was apparently still hung up on the lack of clothes thing. It was certainly weird for a person’s attitude to shift so suddenly, but then Okuyasu was weird. This sort of thing was normal for him. It was a benefit of having a simple brain.

Okuyasu stood up. He didn’t want to make Josuke uncomfortable, but the man showed no signs of recognition. Maybe he didn’t realize, or didn’t want to realize, that Okuyasu was the one. Okuyasu was the one who injured Josuke’s leg. Okuyasu was the one who snapped a neck with ease. Okuyasu was the one who mutilated the corpse claw by claw until the grass turned red. Okuyasu was the one who had ripped out intestines and organs only to eat a single liver. Okuyasu was the one who had killed Shigechi. Okuyasu was the murderer.

It should be good that Josuke didn’t know, because the man could be carried to safety with ease. It should be good, but he might have preferred the harder method. He wanted Josuke to yell and scream, to call him a murderer and a monster. He wanted Josuke to loathe him as much as he loathed himself. That’s how it should be. That would be far easier than facing the smile of a man he’d wronged so much. He’d just have to get Josuke to safety. He’d just have to get him to hate him on the way.

Josuke was still stunned. He had questions. He wanted answers. He just wanted an explanation, but Okuyasu simply ignored his former friend’s incomplete sentences. Without warning, his arms wrapped around Josuke, pushing and pulling him into a position that he could then lift him in. Okuyasu man carried Josuke like a bride on her wedding day, their bands of blood wrapped around their ankles, but the ring bearer had been Okuyasu himself. He’d craved the ring with tooth and claw and placed it on his beloved’s leg. They’d been united with vows of terrified screams and cake of red velvety flesh. The ceremony was over, he’d already cut the cake and had his fill. If only it could have been a shotgun wedding. He would have loved the barrel to his head.

It seemed that in the process of shifting Josuke, the man had gotten a better glimpse at Okuyasu, for as he was picked up, he’d spoken.

“Wait! Your foot!”

Okuyasu ignored his words, choosing to focus on getting the man to rest in his arms. ALthough clearly both uncomfortable and comfortable in his arms, Josuke didn’t protest much. The worry he felt was too distracting to process the weird intimacy.

“You’re injured.” Grip now comfortable, Okuyasu began to walk. “You shouldn’t carry me with an injured foot.”

“Not injured.” Okuyasu dodged a low hanging tree branch.

“Your foot is all bloody!” The man’s voice raised an octave and scared a nearby owl in a tree.

Okuyasu glanced at his foot as if he didn’t already know about the blood covering it. He could feel Josuke trying to push the two of them apart, not wanting to injure Okuyasu’s uninjured leg. On any normal day, Okuyasu would have easily held on to Josuke. Unfortunately for him, all his strength had been used in the shifting—and killing—process. He always felt weak after a night out like this, but the strange shifting pause must have caused him to actually be weak. Carrying Josuke was fine, but holding on to Josuke appeared too much for his aching body. Before he could put all his strength into firmly holding Josuke, the man successfully released himself. This meant Josuke’s brief look of pride was immediately overtaken by one of pain as he fell to the ground.

The man winced and Okuyasu scrambled back to him. The only thought in his brain had been to scoop Josuke back up and run to safety before he could attempt another escape. Those thoughts were immediately replaced by the absolute lust he felt. His head whirled. A hand rushed to grab his head, although it would not help his blight, and he tried to remain cohesive enough to understand just why he was so badly craving the blood he just smelled. Every instinct of his urged him to rush forward, to take the blood, to eat its source, to fill his famished stomach. The only thing that kept him from doing so, was the thought that his idea wanted to make him hurl. His hand moved from his head to cover his mouth, and in that brief moment he had a realization.

Josuke’s wound was bad, but he must have taken measures to keep it from bleeding out—he was a school nurse after all. Between that and the idea that Josuke had been out there for some time, some time long enough for his blood to start congealing and crystallizing, the man hadn’t been about to bleed out. In his attempts to escape Okuyasu’s arms, his foot and everything attached had slammed into the ground. He had started bleeding again.

“Shit.” Josuke still wincing, new and fresh pain coursing through him as his blood spilled out.

Why was he hungry? Why was he still hungry? As he sat there, cursing himself, he felt the smell of blood no longer as enticing. He was overwhelmed with nausea. Josuke, who had tried to quickly tend to his leg, finally looked at Okuyasu.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Own leg forgotten, he tried to reach for Okuyasu, to see what caused the man to crouch into a crumpled little ball next to him.

“Yeah,” the nausea was overwhelming, but he didn’t think he was about to hurl. “I’m fine.”

“Is it your leg? Shit, is it already infected?”

Josuke lunged for his leg and Okuyasu had no power to stop him. The cold, slim fingers on his leg tickled. They were moving frantically, searching for the source of the wound, hoping to discover just how bad it was for Okuyasu to be like this. After a little while, Josuke’s hands slowly retreated. He was staring at his slightly bloody fingertips. He looked at Okuyasu, concern laced in his brows. Okuyasu, who had gained enough composure by now, responded.

“I told ya, I’m not injured.”

“Then—”

Okuyasu didn’t want to answer what was coming next, but luckily for him Josuke didn’t finish his own sentence. Free from the answers he didn’t want to admit, he turned his attention to Josuke’s sickening blood. He could feel himself wavering between desire and disgust. They’d need to take care of that immediately.

“Your leg, how is it?”

“Uh,” Josuke glanced at his wound, “Not great. It fucking hurts and I don’t think the bleeding is going to stop anytime soon. It's always the moments I leave behind ym emergency first aid kit. Then again, not sure bandaids would do the trick.”

The last line had been meant as a joke, but neither of them laughed. Josuke was in too much pain and Okuyasu was too busy fighting himself. He was a bear, not a fucking vampire! Why was he acting like this?

“Well ya need to try an’ stop it before I pick ya up again. It’s making me hungry.”

He froze. Josuke froze. His stupid instincts had won that round. He would have smacked himself in the head if not for another wave of nausea overtaking him. He couldn’t see Josuke’s expression.

“What?”

“What?”

Although the guilt was eating him, the thought of Josuke knowing, realizing, what he had done was horrifying. Part of him wanted to confess. Part of him wanted to hide it. The other part of him wasn’t sure if he’d puke or not.

“What does that mean?” Silence. “Is it like a ki—”

“It was me, okay?” Okuyasu yelled, not hearing whatever it was Josuke had started to say.

In the end, the guilt had been too much. He’d opened his big mouth and instead of fumbling to cover it up, it had been easier to just admit it. He didn’t feel much better than before. This night sucked.

“What was you?” Josuke still hadn’t grasped it.

Okuyasu was upset. He was upset with himself and Josuke. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t Josuke understand him? Why didn’t Josuke just hate him already?

“The monster! I’m the one that hurt ya! I’m the one that killed Shigechi! I’m the one who killed everybody!” He felt like he was going to cry again. “Why can’t ya just get it? I’m a murderin’ monster!”

Josuke was taken aback not only by the outburst, but by the words Okuyasu was saying. He didn’t immediately react, trying to run or curse. He sat there, confused and staring at Okuyasu. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand, he just didn’t know what to believe.

“But you—” Okuyasu didn’t know what he could do to make Josuke believe.

“I was bitten, okay? Two years ago! My dad died but I survived the attack and now I become some crazy killer beast when I get too emotional or the moon is right or whatever! It was me!” Okuyasu paused his yelling to take a breath. “I’ve been killin’ people ever since and I almost killed ya!”

Josuke was processing. Okuyasu was reeling. He could feel the anger, the frustration, the self-loathing, and the panic. He felt them all at once, rushing through his body and fueling his words. If he wasn’t careful, such strong emotions could result in him shifting once again. That was the unfortunate part. Few were capable of being careful when overwhelmed by their emotions. He could feel it. Now he only felt one thing: fear.

“Shit!”

The blood coursing through his veins had changed. He could feel his joints ache and his muscles flexing. He could feel his nerves pulsing, disconnecting and reconnecting in ways that shocked his system. His body was changing. He was shifting. He couldn’t do anything. Josuke couldn’t do anything. He’d kill another.

It was rare for him to be awake while shifting, and the pain was so much to bear that he assumed he passed out and that was why he could never remember his escapades as a bear. In all honesty, It didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t sure what else to think. No matter how much Keicho tried to figure out what happened, neither of them had enough experience with werebeasts to understand. They also weren’t keen on trying to perform experiments and gain data, seeing as Okuyasu seemed to kill every time he shifted. He also didn’t want to risk killing Keicho in the process.

As he screamed and cried, body changing for the second time that night, he wondered why he had to lose control. Why was it so hard for him to resist it now? How come he’d not only shift two days in a row, but multiple times in one night. As he cursed himself and mourned the loss of Josuke, he closed his eyes and readied himself for the neverending blank of unconsciousness.

When he opened his eyes, he knew something wasn’t right. Just like earlier, his body didn’t feel right. But, unlike earlier, it wasn’t wrong in the same way. In fact, as weird as his body felt, it didn’t feel wrong at all. It was just different. It was almost like he was—no that couldn’t be. He blinked. His eyes now focused, as if he’d had to blink away sleepiness, and he could see something he should not.

Josuke.

Josuke was sitting before him, uninjured. Well, he was still injured from earlier, but he wasn’t any more injured than before Okuyasu shifted. He was sitting there, shock and fear written all over his face. He tried to call out, tried to tell Josuke to run, but all that came out of his mouth was the call of a bear. Instead of running like he should have, Josuke just sat there frozen, staring at the massive bear that had once been Okuyasu.

“Holy shit.” Was all that could leave his mouth.

Okuyasu was panicking. Josuke needed to leave. He needed to leave before the instincts—or whatever it was that caused him to kill—kicked in. He stretched out a long furry paw and shoved Josuke with it, a sad sound leaving his mouth. The force behind his paw, although not much, was enough for Josuke to fall back a little. He caught himself before fully hitting the ground, but it had been enough to snap him out of his frozen state. He sat upright but hadn’t moved yet, eyes peeling into Okuyasu with a quizzical look. Okuyasu wanted to warn him again, but he knew it was too late. He could feel the hair on his back rising. He could feel the need to protect. He felt the need to kill.

Josuke was right in front of him. All he’d need to do was lean forward. Then Josuke would be gone and he’d have killed someone he knew and cared about. Except, his instincts led him to turn around just as he felt something stab into his hind leg. He could see it now, a small furry thing clinging to him with teeth and claws. He didn’t know a lot about animals, so he couldn’t think of the name of this creature, but he knew he’d seen it before. He knew that his instincts had told him to protect and to kill and they had done so because of this creature.

What happened next was hard to say. Okuyasu felt himself acting on pure instinct. There was no thinking or processing, he simply did. As much as he feared his instincts, he knew he was good at acting on them. Even if he didn’t remember being a bear, his body did. He’d always been the sort to follow his instincts, to rely on them, and this only proved it. He was good, like someone who had been a bear their whole life, not on and off for the past two years.

The little beast was fast and vicious, trying to attack with as much brutality as possible. Okuyasu would turn and swipe to dislodge the beast, hoping to get a hit in the process. It was smart. It could tell when and how he’d hit, so rather than aiming for hard and debilitating attacks, it tried to get in as many as possible. It knew that it was inferior in strength and size, but that did not stop it. It didn’t stop Okuyasu either. While he may not have hit the animal as much as it did him, his swipes packed a punch. One hit in particular caused it to go flying back a few feet. While it stood back up and shook its head, Okuyasu took the chance to lunge at it. If he could get in one bite or one direct hit he knew the fight would be over.

Unfortunately, the animal was far too smart. It had noticed Okuyasu lunging but instead of fleeing or attacking back, it ran straight towards Okuyasu. It ran straight at him and straight under him. It was small and it was quick, so it didn’t struggle to slide beneath his running form and sprint away. Okuyasu skidded to a halt and as he turned to look at it, that was when he panicked. It had run away from him, yes, but the direction it had run in was where Josuke had sat. He didn’t know if it was physically possible or not, but his eyes widened. The man in question had begun crawling away at the start of the fight, but the fight hadn’t started that long ago and his leg was still far too injured. He hadn’t made it far.

Okuyasu turned. He began to run. He wouldn’t make it. Even with his strong muscles and protective instincts pushing him along, he knew he was no match for the smaller creature’s speed. He saw Josuke raise an arm, covering his face as the animal pounced at it. Okuyasu couldn’t do it. He needed to do it.

Josuke screamed.

The beast’s claws had punctured his skin, digging hard into his forearm. It was standing on him, back claws causing red dots to appear on the surface of Josuke’s pants. He continued screaming in pain, free hand trying to find a rock or a stick or something to hit the creature with. Using the leverage of its claws, his arm was pushed down to reveal his face. Its jaws were wide. It was going in for the kill.

There was a yelp, as teeth penetrated flesh. There was a scream as claws were ripped out of skin. There was another yelp as Okuyasu threw the small creature in his mouth as far away from Josuke as possible. There was no movement from the body that lay a couple feet away, and there was little movement from the man in front of him. Okuyasu could feel himself panting and his vision was tinted with blood from facial wounds he didn’t know happened. His instincts were still screaming at him, but instead of screaming to kill, they were only telling him to protect without need for the killing. There was no longer a threat to his and Josuke’s lives.

Being careful to avoid the man’s legs—the last thing he wanted was to give him some crushed bones by accidentally standing on him—he moved closer. Josuke had tears flowing down his cheeks and blood flowing down his limbs. His hand had grabbed onto a nearby rock, but the rock was too small to have done any damage. He should have still raised it up and tried to hit Okuyasu, that would have made sense, but instead he just laid there crying and breathing so hard he was almost hyperventilating. Okuyasu wanted to lean down and hold the man close, assure him it was okay and they’d get him taken care of. He couldn’t. He was a bear.

He’d never remembered being a bear, so he definitely didn’t know how to stop being a bear. Even so, he didn’t let that stop him from comforting the man. Instead of his whole body, only his head leaned down. He didn’t think about doing it. If he had thought about it, he probably would have kept himself from doing it out of embarrassment. He was acting on pure instinct as his tongue emerged from his mouth to lick at the wound on Josuke’s arm.

He could hear Keicho and Josuke in the back of his mind telling him that wasn’t sanitary at all, but he didn’t stop. Instead, his tongue then moved to lick at the side of Josuke’s face. He wasn’t a dog or a wolf, but a bear. He wondered if this was something bears did or if this was actually his own human instincts kicking in. The latter was far more embarrassing so he’d just choose to believe bears were like big scary dogs. Surprisingly, this action seemed to calm Josuke. He was glad it had worked, but the relief didn’t last long for either of them.

Okuyasu felt his hair rise again and before he could turn to look at the furry creature he’d thought was dead, he felt it biting into his shoulder. A loud noise left him. It was painful and he needed to kill it. He needed to kill it before—

Bang.

His hearing was ringing and he felt the warmth of pain spreading through him. It had been the sound of a gun. The bullet he had always wished for—the bullet he had hoped Keicho would deliver—was here. The pain in his shoulder numbed as he felt the teeth leave it. There was a small thud. The bullet had soared through the head of the animal and dented the tree next to Josuke. As it laid there, blood spilling on the ground, Okuyasu and Josuke looked to the direction the bullet had come from.

There, with a shotgun resting in his hands, stood Keicho. He was out of breath and wearing a jacket over what Okuyasu recognized as his pajamas. Okuyasu felt himself relax and stepped away from Josuke, heading towards his brother. Keicho stood his ground, glaring at Okuyasu. Whether or not Keicho shot him right now, he didn’t care. He stopped, standing directly in front of Keicho, expecting to once again meet that neverending blank of unconsciousness. Instead, he felt a smack to his head.

“You idiot.” Keicho had whacked him with the gun. “How stupid are you to shift two nights in a row?”

Okuyasu realized the relief that washed over him had kept him from recognizing the signs that he was shifting back. He had no more energy, so as he shifted he didn’t scream or cry. It hurt, it really hurt, but he hadn’t killed Josuke, he hadn’t killed Keicho, and that was all that mattered. When the shifting finished, he didn’t get even a moment to relax on the ground. Keicho had grabbed him up and pulled him to his feet. His brother’s jacket was then immediately shoved his way.

He could feel the heat of wounds covering his body, but luckily none were too deep. There was no longer blood in his eyes, so he took a moment to wipe away any more that could get in. He then followed after Keicho, who had already stomped his way over to Josuke, gun still in hand. He would likely threaten to use it on Josuke if the man didn’t acquiesce to his demands. He might not stop at threatening with it. Keicho was just that sort of person.

Josuke had once again pulled himself into a sitting position. While clearly still in pain, he appeared relaxed. When he sensed people coming closer, he only gave Keicho a glance before focusing on Okuyasu. He looked relieved. Far too relieved.

“You really scared me, man.” He sighed as Okuyasu caught up with his brother.

Okuyasu’s head tilted in confusion. Keicho cocked the gun. It looked like his brother would immediately go to threats.

“If you don’t prove you can forget what happened here today, I will shoot you.”

Okuyasu gave his brother a look. “Keicho.”

His brother glared back at him. He didn’t want to threaten Josuke but he knew it had to be done. He wanted to at least apologize and make sure the man was okay before they started. Josuke seemed a little spooked by Keicho’s words, but apparently after what happened tonight Keicho didn’t appear all that threatening.

“You must be Okuyasu’s brother. I’m Josuke.”

Keicho’s eyes narrowed and he raised the gun. Okuyasu’s eyes widened in panic. Josuke held his hands up in surrender, still looking too relaxed. His attention was on Okuyasu.

“You scared me with the whole ‘I’m a monster I killed Shigechi thing. Was that supposed to be a joke? Because it really wasn’t funny.”

“What?” Now Okuyasu was killed.

“Your friend is just as stupid as you.” Okuyasu heard Keicho mutter under his breath.

Josuke looked back and forth between the two. “Wait, you seriously think Okuyasu killed him?”

Keicho sighed.

“I mean, yeah,” Okuyasu didn’t know how to explain. “I really have killed people an’ I mean you saw me as a bear.”

Josuke snorted. “Yeah, you were a bear.”

Okuyasu and Keicho looked at one another. They looked back at Josuke. Maybe he’d sustained damage to the head.

“Do you two seriously not get it?”

Keicho suddenly looked like he understood. His head turned to look at the creature laying dead near Josuke. Josuke also looked that way. Seeing he was the odd one out, Okuyasu also looked at it not understanding a single thing. Josuke pointed with a finger on his uninjured arm.

“That thing—or guy I guess—was the one that killed Shigechi. It was stupid of us, but we came here to help Koichi with his article and got attacked. I managed to hide but Shigechi, he—” Josuke quieted down, like the death of his friend had finally settled in. “Shigechi didn’t get away. We were attacked by that wolverine and after it…ate…him, I saw it walk away. I didn’t know how to process what I saw then, since what left looked more like a human than a small animal, but after your whole bear thing I think it might have been like you.”

Like him? The animal—the wolverine—was actually someone who was originally human? That would have explained the level of intelligence. Keicho looked contemplative. He was examining the dead body.

“I suppose that would make sense.”

“Besides,” Josuke spoke, almost a little cheerful, “bears don’t really attack like that thing did. Why would a bear tear a person to shreds and only eat some of it? If it was hungry it would eat more but if it was just protecting itself, it wouldn’t need to get that violent.”

The brothers both looked shocked. They hadn’t thought about that. Keicho sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Then you didn’t kill this guy, Okuyasu.”

“He probably didn’t kill everyone else either.” a small smile had returned to Josuke’s lips.

Keicho sighed.

“What now?”

Before Keicho could respond to him, Josuke answered. “I promise not to tell anyone about Okuyasu’s whole werebear thing, but we should report this to the police. No matter what you do, they’ll find the bodies and use it as fodder to keep up their investigation. You might not be safe even if you flee.”

“Is that a threat?” Keicho hissed, raising the gun back up.

“No! Not at all!” Josuke waved his hands. “I just mean this would be an easy way to wrap it all up, yeah? Whether or not this wolverine guy or Okuyasu killed every single victim, they’ll probably conclude it all to be the work of the other guy if we give them our statements.”

Okuyasu and Josuke both stared at Keicho hopefully. The man was thinking. He was the brother with brains, so Okuyasu would leave the decision up to him. Deep down, he hoped that if they went with Josuke’s plan, they could stay. He tried not to get his hopes up. After about a minute, Keicho finally nodded.

“Fine. We’ll discuss the details on the way there.” He looked at Okuyasu. “You will not be giving a statement though.”

Okuyasu nodded, feeling no need to question his brother. If that was what Keicho decided was best then that was what they’d do. With everything decided, Okuyasu knew they’d start to head towards town. That meant he’d reach down to pick up Josuke once again, although this time he was at least somewhat covered by his brother’s jacket. Keicho had already started walking, so Okuyasu moved too. He spared a glance at Josuke, wanting to make sure he was okay only to see that the man was refusing to look at him let alone make eye contact. His cheeks were even a little red.

“What’s wrong?” It was a stupid question seeing as all of Josuke’s injuries were upsetting for everyone.

Josuke avoided eye contact and answering for a little longer, which resulted in Okuyasu doing some weird head dances that he was sure might kill his neck. Finally having had enough, Josuke abruptly turned his head, looked directly into Okuyasu’s eyes and spoke.

“You’re carrying me while naked again.”

“I have a jacket on this time.”

Josuke groaned.

“Do you not like it?” Okuyasu didn’t want Josuke to be uncomfortable but also didn’t know what alternative they could take.

“No, I do like it.”

Okuyasu blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. He had never even thought of that answer as a possibility. What on earth did that mean? He heard a small sigh leave Josuke.

“Your face tells me I should clarify.” Okuyasu nodded. “Did you keep turning down my advances because you’re not interested or because of this whole werebear thing?”

“Uh.” Okuyasu was dumbfounded.

Josuke groaned again, his uninjured hand moving to cover his face. “It was neither and you just didn’t know? How dense are you?”

Okuyasu suddenly felt extremely embarrassed. With this news being brought to his attention, he had no idea how to react. He was suddenly way too conscious about Josuke in his arms while he was mostly naked. He wasn’t ashamed, so he didn’t exactly know what this meant for him. He felt Josuke’s cold hand on his cheek and his lips on the other. If he had a free hand, it would have shot up to hold the cheek that had just been kissed.

“Seems like we’ve got some things to discuss once this is all over.”

Okuyasu nodded, ignoring the look his brother shot him. He’d really have to try and convince Keicho to stay.