Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They barely managed to escape the JAA jail. Well, getting out of the jail itself hadn’t been a problem, but Taro hadn’t expected the Order to be waiting outside for them. It was only thanks to Kindaka and Yotsumura that they managed to slip away, and that the Order didn’t continue their pursuit outside of Okutabi Castle.

There was no doubt that they’d be dealing with the Order again, probably soon, but for the time being, they’d gotten away. Now they just had to get back to the store to prepare for whatever was to come.

With the worst of the danger behind them, Taro glanced back toward Shin. He tried to be discreet, keeping his thoughts subdued as he’d grown skilled at doing since meeting the esper. Shin had been injured when Taro found him, but he hadn’t had much chance since then to see how he was holding up. Now, Taro took the time to check on him.

Shin's expression was pinched, and he looked a few shades paler than usual. Both his leg and shoulder were bleeding. And his head. Really, he was covered in blood. It wasn’t an unusual sight, unfortunately, but Shin seemed to be moving okay all the same. Still, Taro couldn’t help but feel some lingering concern.

Earlier, when Taro had seen the emergency alert triggered from Shin’s name tag, it’d felt like someone had dumped ice water down his back. He’d had no idea where Shin had gone and, if not for the tracker, wouldn’t have been able to find him. Even with the tracker, he’d cut his arrival far too close for comfort. Taro didn’t want to think about how things could have happened differently if he hadn’t made it in time. They still had a lot to talk about once they made it home. 

But that would come later, after they treated his injuries. Aoi and Lu would be relieved when Taro brought him home. They didn’t fully understand what the emergency alert meant, but they’d known it was nothing good. Maybe seeing their reactions would prove to Shin just how much he would have been missed. 

He stopped that train of thought before it went too far, pushing it away before Shin could have the chance to pick up on it. Instead, he turned his attention to Heisuke and Boiled. 

They hadn’t escaped the prison unscathed. Heisuke had been roughed up by Torres, but it all appeared to be surface-level, nothing life-threatening. Boiled was a little worse off, with a gash stretching across his chest. A closer look, though, showed that it hadn’t gone very deep. They would both be okay. 

The group was making good time and was nearly halfway back to the store. But Taro still had a sense that something was wrong. The surrounding streets were relatively quiet, filled only with the sounds of their footsteps and panting breaths. No, they weren’t being followed. Something else was wrong. It’d only been a few minutes, but Taro glanced behind himself again to check on everyone. When his eyes landed on Shin, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Shin had grown paler, noticeably so, and his wounds were still leaking blood. Rather than the subtlety of before, this time, Taro tried catching his gaze. But Shin’s eyes were unfocused. 

Taro directed a thought his way. “Shin, are you okay?”

He got no response, which increased that sense of wrongness that’d filled the air. Shin always responded promptly, or at the very least gave some kind of reaction. It was concerning, but it wasn’t enough to prepare Taro for when Shin collapsed. 

One moment he was running, and the next his legs just gave out. He crashed to the ground before Taro could react, could even think to stop it. The group came to a stop, everyone frozen in shock. Their eyes locked on Shin’s crumpled form, unmoving. 

“Shin!” Heisuke’s shout broke Taro out of his stupor. Having been standing closer, Heisuke got to Shin first, dropping to his knees next to him. Only a second behind, Taro knelt on his other side, and together they turned Shin over. The others hovered nearby. 

Shin’s eyes were still open, at least halfway, but he didn’t seem very aware. It was more like he was staring through them, his pupils nearly white in the way they went when he was overusing his ESP. His nose had started bleeding again, and everything else, well, everything else hadn’t ever really stopped bleeding.

“Hey, Shin!” Heisuke shouted, jostling him. Taro pulled Heisuke’s hand away, stopping the motion. It’d only aggravate his wounds more. 

“Shin, can you hear us?” Taro tried, leaning in closer in an attempt to catch his gaze. For a moment, it looked like Shin was starting to focus on him. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and his body began to seize. 

Heisuke shouted in panic. Taro felt that same panic send his heart racing, but he couldn’t afford to freeze up again. He reacted quickly, sliding his hand under Shin’s head to protect him from knocking it against the ground. But now all he could do was wait, and the way Shin’s features twisted in pain made him feel sick. How had he gotten this bad this fast, without Taro realizing? 

A tense minute passed with Heisuke shakily talking to Shin in his attempt at comfort, and Kindaka swearing silently in the background. Then all at once, it stopped, and Shin went limp. Heisuke looked up, eyes wide and teary. 

“Taro, w-what was that? Is he-” Heisuke cut himself off, eyes darting back down. 

Taro shifted his hand to the side of Shin’s neck, checking for a pulse. Finding it brought him a small sense of relief, but his fingers trembled ever so slightly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d gotten him out of the prison, and everything had seemed fine then. He’d thought Shin would be okay, that he could make it to the house. But he’d been wrong, and now Shin was paying the price for that. Taro should have noticed something was wrong sooner. Shin had walked off so many other fights, but something about this one had been different. 

It took a moment for him to steady his voice enough to reassure Heisuke. 

“I think he’s okay, for now.” Okay was definitely a stretch, but it meant alive. Even though he just had a seizure, wasn’t waking up, was losing more blood every second they waited… He was alive. 

“You need to get him to Granny Miya. Now,” Kindaka spoke up, much closer than Taro expected. He was crouched down next to him, examining Shin with a careful eye. He hadn’t noticed Kindaka was there, a lapse that was unusual for Taro. 

“I’ll get them back to your place,” Kindaka said, inclining his head toward Atari and the others. “And make sure the Order doesn’t mess with your family.”

Taro wouldn’t put it past Oki to try something, especially now that Slur’s group had taken over the JAA. But for the time he’d known Kindaka, the man had always tried to keep innocents out of harm's way. Taro could trust him with this. And if things went south, there was always the safe room.

He nodded, then turned his attention back to Shin. He slid a hand under Shin’s shoulders and legs and lifted him off the ground. His head hung awkwardly for a moment before Taro shifted him closer so it rested against his shoulder instead. 

“I’m comin’ with you,” Heisuke said. Even as he used his sleeve to roughly brush away the tears in his eyes, his voice was firm. 

“Okay. Let’s get moving.” 

They didn’t wait any longer, darting off in the direction of Miya’s clinic. A small part of Taro wondered if a hospital might be better, but he didn’t dwell on it for long. With things the way they were right now, a hospital could be dangerous. On the other hand, no one would dare to mess with Miya; she was too important. Besides, she had her reputation for a reason. She would be able to help Shin. He had to believe that. 

Miya’s clinic wasn’t too far away, but to Taro, they couldn’t get there quickly enough. No matter how fast they moved, it was too slow. Because every minute wasted was another chance for something to go horribly wrong. 

When they finally arrived, Taro was almost ready to kick the door down. If not for Heisuke stepping in front of him to knock, he probably would have. A few seconds of silence passed with no answer. Heisuke tried again, pounding harder against the wood of the door. 

“Granny Miya, you gotta help us!” Heisuke called out. Then quieter, more to himself, he mumbled, “Please be in there. Please.”

Taro was tightening his grip on Shin, readying himself to break the door down, when the knob turned. Miya opened it a crack, looking up at them through narrowed eyes. Her gaze swept over them, lingering over Shin for a moment. 

Before she could make an argument, or say anything, Taro spoke up. “Please. You’re the only one who can help.”

Miya scrutinized him for another moment, then with an exaggerated sigh, pulled the door open wider. “Bring him in,” she said. Not wasting another moment, Taro and Heisuke followed her into the clinic. 

“You can set him down back here,” she led them toward the back of the clinic, to an area partitioned off from the rest of the room. There was more equipment here than her usual acupuncture needles, the area having more similarities to an operating room. Taro laid Shin down on the bed. 

Miya stepped up, her brow furrowing as she took in the state of Shin. “What did the kid get himself into this time?” she asked. 

Heisuke spoke first, “We were in the JAA prison, and he fought with the warden in a giant freezer, but he seemed fine after that. And then he fought that Tenkyu guy, but I don’t know what happened there.” 

It didn’t give much context, but Taro couldn’t do much better. He hadn’t arrived until after all the fighting was over, when Shin was already hurt and on the verge of losing himself. 

“He was injured when I found him, but I’ve seen him worse off. I thought he was okay; he was still able to fight. But about halfway home from the prison, he collapsed and had a seizure,” Taro explained. Miya had already started her examination, lifting Shin’s eyelids to shine a light into his pupils. She hummed quietly in acknowledgement at their explanations, and moved on to lifting his shirt to examine the wounds underneath. Taro stepped forward, helping her to maneuver Shin out of the shirt and jacket.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Heisuke asked. His hands twitched at his sides like he was desperate to be doing something but had no idea what. 

“Quiet down.” The words were blunt, but not said in a harsh way. She was entirely focused on her patient. It wouldn’t do any good to rush her, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier. Taro clutched Shin’s bloodied clothes in his hands, twisting at the fabric as he watched. 

When she stepped away from the bed, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “How bad is it?”

She shot him a look, annoyance that barely covered something else. 

“That brat,” she spat, throwing a hand out to gesture at Shin, “didn’t listen to a word of my advice.” She pulled out a cigarette, pausing to light it. Even this brief delay felt like too much, and Heisuke was speaking up again, stepping in closer. 

“What do you mean?”

Not one to be rushed, Miya finished lighting up and took a drag from her cigarette. Taro’s own impatience mirrored Heisuke’s, but he gritted his teeth and stayed silent. Maybe because somewhere deep down, he didn’t want to hear how bad this was. 

Blowing out a stream of smoke, Miya continued, “I warned him about overusing that power of his. From what I’m seeing, he did more than overuse it.” 

She scowled and took another drag from the cigarette. It seemed less an attempt to delay and more a calming ritual. Miya always kept her cool, but she also cared for her patients more than she let on. That’s why she was the only doctor Taro had ever trusted. 

“He pushed everything far past what should have been possible. His mind, his body, I’m surprised he even stayed on his feet as long as you said. He shouldn’t have been able to walk at all with that leg.” 

And Taro hadn’t noticed. He’d seen all the blood, but stopping Shin from killing Tenkyu, reminding him who he was, had taken his focus. And he’d been so relieved when Shin smiled and agreed to come home. He hadn’t noticed. He didn’t take the time to actually look at Shin’s injuries to see just how bad they were. 

“But you can help him, right, Granny?” Heisuke asked. 

“Who do you think I am, you brat?” she huffed at him. God Hands. Some claimed it was just legend that she could save anyone as long as they weren’t dead. Taro believed it. 

“Granny Miya’s the best,” he said, to reassure Heisuke. A small smirk spread across her face. 

“Of course I am. Now go wait outside; give me space to work.” The outside she gestured to was just the other side of the partition. Heisuke took one step back then stopped. Taro didn’t move at all. He trusted Miya, but the thought of leaving Shin alone now felt wrong. 

“Look, treating him is going to take more than acupuncture. You don’t want to watch this,” she said, looking pointedly at Heisuke. He looked like he wanted to argue, but then his eyes dropped to the ground and he conceded, exiting to the main area of the clinic. Miya’s focus shifted to Taro next.

“You too, Sakamoto,” she ordered. Then, her voice marginally softer, added, “I’ll let you know if I need an extra hand.”

Taro frowned, but had to relent. The longer he lingered back here, the more he was delaying Miya from helping Shin. He left the partitioned area and went back into the rest of the clinic. But he didn’t stop there, pulling out his phone to call Aoi and going outside. He’d barely closed the door behind him when she picked up. 

“Taro! Kindaka-san and the others are here. They told me what happened,” she said. After all the stress of the afternoon, it was good to hear her voice. 

“Are you okay, Aoi?” he asked.

“I’m fine, how is Shin?” she asked. Taro didn’t want to worry her, but he couldn’t lie. All he could do was try to maintain some facade of calm. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in slowly.

“We don’t know yet. But Miya’s doing what she can. She’s good,” he said. 

“Are you okay, dear?” she asked, voice softening. The reassurance was at the tip of his tongue, to tell her he was fine, but she would see right through it. She already had. 

“Miya has never failed before, but I’m worried,” he admitted. 

“Of course you are. I am, too.”

If he listened closely enough, he could hear the faint tremor in her voice. Just like him, she was doing all she could to keep it together. He was reminded of how wonderful she was and how much he loved her. When Shin came back into Taro’s life after all those years, she’d accepted him into their family with open arms, quickly coming to love him just as much as Taro did. He heard her take in a quiet breath, and when she released it, her voice was steady. 

“I know you’re worried about us too, but we’ll be okay. Kindaka-san is going with me to get Hana, and then we’ll all hold down the fort here. You stay there with Shin until he can come home, okay? And keep me updated,” she said. 

Between Kindaka and Yotsumura, his family would be protected while he was here. That thought, combined with Aoi’s firm assurance, let some of the tension leak from his shoulders.  

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

After the call ended, Taro stepped back into the clinic, locking the door behind him. He didn’t see any signs they were followed, but it was better to be safe for the time being. 

Heisuke was sitting on a stool next to one of the empty examination tables. His head was bowed, staring at his fingers as they wrung together, twisting and fidgeting. When he heard Taro come in, his head jerked up. Somehow, he looked even more haunted than before. 

“Taro, I-”

Taro held up a finger to silence him, nodding in the direction of the sectioned-off area. Heisuke’s mouth snapped shut. They didn’t want to distract Miya. Lifting a hand, Taro waved Heisuke over to him. Dropping off the stool, he came over so they both stood hovering just before the front door. 

“I’m sorry, Taro,” Heisuke said, voice low and wavering. “I couldn’t stop Shin from going after Tenkyu. He wouldn’t take my hand, but I didn’t go after him. I couldn’t stop him.” 

It was clear that Heisuke felt just as bad over this as Taro did, but he had no reason to be beating himself up. He’d done all he could. 

“It’s not your fault,” Taro said. Heisuke looked ready to argue, so he continued, “You did the right thing, protecting Atari. Uzuki would have her now if it weren’t for you. And you bought time for me to get to Shin.”

“Maybe,” Heisuke mumbled. “But after we got out, I could’ve checked on him.”

“I could have, too,” Taro countered. I should have. 

Consciousness came back to Shin slowly, in fragmented pieces that never seemed to materialize into a full picture. Sensations brushed at the edges of his awareness, but none were strong enough, ever lingered long enough for him to make any sense of them. 

That was, until the pain hit him. 

The migraine started like a spike being driven through his skull. And the sensation continued, over and over, pulsating across his head with an overwhelming intensity. Light that he barely noticed before seemed to seep through his closed lids, stinging his eyes. 

Shin groaned, screwing his eyes shut and twisting his head away. His face pressed against a firm surface. But it did little to help. The light was still there. And the pain. Every second that passed, it seemed to only grow worse. 

He brought his hands up, clutching at his head, as if he could tear out whatever was causing this pain. For a moment, he deluded himself that maybe he could. Only for a moment, though. Instead, the throbbing was joined by a new burning sensation. He gripped harder, trying to make it stop. Something warm dripped down the side of his face. 

Then there was a voice somewhere nearby, loud. Shin curled in on himself, only making it halfway. His body was heavy, refusing to move like he wanted it to. One leg wouldn’t even move. Another noise escaped him, something high, building in the back of his throat. Not that he could hear it. 

Hands wrapped around Shin’s wrists, a firm grip pulling his hands away from his head. Shin struggled against it, but his efforts amounted to nothing. Everything felt weighted down, like the gravity in the room had tripled. Moving at all was difficult. Breaking free from whoever had hold of him was impossible. 

“Stop…” Shin pleaded. The word was barely a whisper, muffled in his ears. 

He didn’t know where he was or what was happening. All he could process was the pain and the panic of being held down. He tried one more time to pull his arms free, but whoever was holding on didn’t budge. That last attempt sapped away whatever strength remained. The blankness creeped back in at the edges of his mind, promising an escape from it all. He let it take him.

Pain dragged Shin back to awareness. Muddled as his mind was, he couldn’t be sure he’d woken up before at all. All he had were spotty memories that were quickly taken over by the pounding in his skull. He reached for his head, but his hands barely moved an inch before they were halted by something wrapped around his wrists. 

Shin tugged at the resistance again, but his hands wouldn’t budge. Panic ran like ice through his veins, and he was suddenly hyperaware of everything. The racing of his heart, the thick material binding his wrists to whatever he was lying on, the relentless pounding in his head, and someone’s fingers brushing against the hole in his shoulder. 

He jerked away from them, twisting hard against the restraints. It didn’t work. His body was too weak; he couldn’t build up enough momentum. But Shin still tried, thrashing against it with all the energy he had, however small it was. 

“Stop moving, you brat!” a woman’s voice ordered. She sounded familiar, but not enough to calm him down. “Damn it, it was supposed to last an hour at least,” she muttered, quieter. 

Despite every part of him screaming not to, Shin forced his eyes open. His eyelids felt impossible heavy, only opening a crack. That was still enough for the light to nearly blind him. He choked back a whine as the migraine intensified in protest.

“Get me another dose. In that cabinet– no, the other one. Hurry,” the woman was speaking again. Someone else was in the room, moving around to Shin’s other side. Shin tried to find them, but his vision was blurry, colors warping at the edges.

Even when they were next to him, handing over whatever the woman had asked for, he couldn’t make them out. 

“It’s okay, Shin,” their deeper voice said. Even with everything feeling so muddled by the pain, Shin recognized this voice instantly–Sakamoto. He stopped fighting, and Sakamoto took his hand, squeezing it in his own. As the panic faded, so did any remaining energy Shin had. His eyes fell shut of their own volition.

Something sharp pricked at the crook of his elbow. He flinched and wanted to pull away, but resisted the urge.

Sakamoto left his side for a moment, and Shin couldn’t help the renewed fear that gripped at his chest. He tried to open his eye again, but couldn’t. His body was relaxing without him wanting it to, and his senses were growing fuzzier. 

“Wha’s…” Shin wanted to ask what was going on, but his mouth was too clumsy to form the words.

Not one to give up so easily, Shin tried to at least open his eyes again, turning his head in the direction he remembered Sakamoto being. Before he made any progress, something cool and damp was placed across his forehead and eyes, completely blocking out the light of the room.

“Go back to sleep,” Sakamoto said, taking Shin’s hand in his once more. The weight of it was grounding, comforting. Shin focused on that one point of contact, on that feeling of safety, as everything else slowly slipped away. When he couldn’t hold on any longer, he finally did as Sakamoto asked and let himself fall asleep.

Chapter Text

When Shin woke up next, it was gradual, like coming out of a deep sleep. His thoughts didn’t feel so muddled anymore, just slowed by his half-asleep state. If he focused, he could feel others’ thoughts brushing at the edges of his mind, but Shin didn’t linger on that for long. The terrible migraine of before had finally faded to a dull throbbing that more resembled a normal headache. He didn’t want to risk using his ESP too soon and making it worse.

Shin was lying on something soft and could feel a blanket covering him. No light was trying to blind him. In fact, he could feel something cool covering the top half of his face. He could vaguely recall the same sensation from earlier, but the memory was spotty. Everything was silent except for the occasional sound of shifting paper.

Despite only just waking up, Shin still felt tired. Combined with how cozy his surroundings were, he was tempted to go back to sleep. But another part of Shin told him he’d rested long enough. He wasn’t doing anyone any good lying here. Wherever here was.

Shin opened his eyes, but everything was still dark. Shifting an arm out from under the blanket covering him, he pulled the damp cloth back from his eyes. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the - thankfully dark - room. It was his room at Sakamoto’s. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

It shouldn’t have startled him so much to hear Sakamoto’s voice. Jumping slightly, his eyes darted to the side where Sakamoto was seated at the desk in the room. The desk light was on, angled away from Shin, illuminating a book he assumed Sakamoto had been reading. Except now, Sakamoto’s full attention was on Shin, who still hadn’t answered his question. 

Shin swallowed, his throat feeling dry. “Better,” he responded. 

Sakamoto scrutinized him with those eyes that always noticed more than Shin wanted. He pushed himself into a sitting position, holding back a wince as the movement pulled at the injury in his shoulder and set off a brief wave of dizziness. He hoped Sakamoto hadn’t noticed.  

“Really, I’m okay,” Shin said when the silence grew too unbearable. 

“You said the same thing when we left the prison. Then you collapsed,” Sakamoto said. The accusation hit like a punch to the gut, and Shin dropped his gaze.

Shin remembered escaping the prison and then the Order once outside. Everything after that was less clear in his mind. There were snippets of sensation, sound, blurry images, but it was all hard to piece together. Likely because he wasn’t very awake for most of it. 

“Sorry about that,” Shin apologized. 

“What happened before?” Sakamoto asked. 

Shin fidgeted with the damp cloth that’d been on his head, staring down at his lap. He’d finally gotten Sakamoto’s trust that he was strong enough to handle himself, and then he had to go and blow it at the first opportunity. 

“When I was fighting Tenkyu, it was hard to keep up at first,” Shin began explaining. “But then I realized I could use my ESP to override my own brain. It let me ignore my limits to keep moving after he shot my leg, and to keep up with his speed. I was still doing that when we left to keep running. I thought I’d be okay, but I guess I overdid it.”

Usually, Shin would be proud to have grown his powers, but it was hard when this was the outcome. Sure, it’d helped him beat Tenkyu, but his body couldn’t handle it in the end. He couldn’t keep up. He wasn’t as strong as he needed to be. 

“Family rule number twelve. No keeping secrets,” Sakamoto said, and then added, “You need to say when you’re hurt.” 

“What difference does it make?” Shin huffed. He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. “Sorry, ignore that. I just… I didn’t think it was that bad, and didn’t want to cause any more trouble.”

For a while, there was no response, then Shin heard Sakamoto stand and walk towards the bed. He sat down next to Shin before resting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. Unable to avoid it any longer, Shin lifted his eyes to meet Sakamoto’s. He was frowning, but not in annoyance or anger. He looked upset. 

“It makes a difference. You scared me,” Sakamoto said. 

The admission surprised Shin. It wasn’t that he thought Sakamoto didn’t care - Shin knew that he did - but for him to say that he was scared, well, Shin didn’t know how to respond. The fact that Sakamoto was keeping his thoughts carefully guarded, and Shin’s ESP still wasn’t fully back, wasn’t helping matters either. 

“I didn’t mean to,” was the weak response he came up with. 

Sakamoto’s grip on Shin tightened slightly. His eyebrows furrowed as he considered his next words, thoughts Shin desperately wished he could peek into. But the thought of attempting it made the ache in his head worse, so he abandoned that effort. 

“You’re not a burden, Shin. It’s never trouble for me to help my family,” Sakamoto said. 

A warmth spread through Shin’s chest in the way it always did when Sakamoto referred to him as family. He wasn’t one to lie just to make someone feel better, or in general. Knowing that allowed Shin to accept his reassurance that he really hadn’t been too much of a burden. A small smile crept onto his face. 

“Then I’ll let you know next time,” Shin said. 

Sakamoto let his hand drop, and the crease left his brow. His whole posture settled into something far more relaxed, only now calling to attention how tense he’d been. 

“Good. But try not to make this a habit,” Sakamoto said. Then, standing up, he asked, “Are you hungry? Aoi’s probably almost done with dinner.”

“Yeah,” Shin answered instantly. He could never pass up Aoi’s cooking. He set the cloth to the side and pushed his covers off, turning to the side. That was as far as he made it before he had to stop. His leg had protested even at that small movement; Shin wasn’t sure he’d have much luck if he tried standing now. He looked up at Sakamoto, a little sheepishly. 

“I might need some help getting in there.”

Sakamoto nodded and reached out a hand. Shin took it, allowing himself to be hauled up. Sakamoto wrapped an arm around Shin’s back, who, in turn, grabbed onto Sakamoto’s shoulder. It still hurt, but with Sakamoto holding him steady, he was able to make it out of the room. 

As soon as the door was open, Shin was hit with the scent of Aoi’s cooking. His mouth watered, and he instantly felt more hungry than he had been. When they entered the main room, there were already three people sitting at the table. Lu and Heisuke were heatedly discussing something while Hana listened on. She was the first to notice Shin and Sakamoto, her face breaking into a wide smile. 

“Shin!” she cheered, hopping up from her chair to run over to him. Lu’s and Heisuke’s attention was immediately turned his way, and they jumped up too. Sakamoto side-stepped just in time to not be caught in the sudden group hug. 

“Shiiiiin, we were worried,” Lu sobbed. Both she and Heisuke were soaking his shirt with their blubbering, but Shin couldn’t free his arms to push them away. At least Hana wasn’t crying, but she was clinging fiercely to his good leg. 

“Quiet down. He still has a headache,” Sakamoto told them.  Shin shot him a grateful look as that put a stop to the loud sobbing, but they were both still staring at him tearfully. 

“I’m okay now. There’s nothing to cry about,” he muttered. 

“But I can’t help it, yo,” Heisuke protested. Piisuke, sitting on his head, chirped in agreement. 

Lu also gave her own muffled, “Yeah,” from where her face was pressed into Shin’s shirt. He sighed and let them have a few more moments of squeezing him. But it was getting to be a lot, so he tried again to squirm free. 

“Okay, that’s enough. Let me sit down.”

They finally relented, releasing him from the hug. Heisuke lingered to help him to the table, but then they all took their seats. Heisuke and Sakamoto sat on either side of him, with Lu and Hana sitting across. 

Only a few minutes later, Aoi came into the room, a smile brightening her face when her eyes landed on Shin. 

“Shin, I’m happy to see you’re up! How are you feeling?” She asked, walking over. She ran a hand through his hair once, ruffling it slightly. The gesture carried so much warmth and care that Shin couldn’t help the grin spreading on his face.

“Ah, I’m doing better. Thank you, Aoi-san,” Shin responded.

“Good,” she let her hand linger for a moment, then dropped it, turning her attention to Sakamoto. “Dinner’s ready, come help me get everything, dear.

Sakamoto stood up, and the two of them went to the kitchen to retrieve the dishes. Shin felt the urge to offer his help, but with his leg the way it was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Thankfully, Hana saved him from any more awkward staring or asking how he was by starting to talk about her day at preschool. Soon, Sakamoto and Aoi came back with the dishes, and they all started to eat. Her food was amazing as always. 

I would have missed this, Shin thought. 

When he decided to kill Tenkyu, it had been to protect this family and their happiness. Even knowing how much it would have hurt to leave, the thought of them being in harm’s way was worse. Shin hadn’t seen any other alternative than to kill Tenkyu, or die trying. 

Sakamoto had convinced him otherwise on the first part, but the second still stood. Sakamoto had brought him back, given him the chance to do the right thing. Shin wasn’t going to let him down again. He was going to get stronger. And ff Tenkyu ever tried to hurt his family, Shin wouldn’t kill him, but he would do everything else in his power to protect the people he cared about, even if it meant dying. 

He shook off those thoughts and tried to bring some of his usual energy to the conversation. He didn’t want to keep worrying everyone by being gloomy on top of what had already happened. 

Shin managed to keep it up through dinner and for a little while past. But Lu could only keep her voice down for so long, and the headache was becoming harder to ignore. Sakamoto would be mad if he pushed himself too much right now. 

Finding a break in the conversation, Shin said, “I think I’ll turn in for the night.” 

Sakamoto nodded and was moving to help him up, but Heisuke beat him to it. “I got it!” he said, hurrying up from his seat to go to Shin’s side. He’d been a bit off all night, but Shin hadn’t figured out quite why yet.

Heisuke helped him up and started leading him back to his room. A chorus of ‘good nights’ from the others at the table followed them. Shin could feel Heisuke’s eyes on him the whole way back to the room. It was embarrassing enough needing help with something as simple as walking, but being watched doubled that feeling. He was glad when they made it to his bed, and Shin was able to sit down. 

As he slid his legs under the covers, Shin could feel the ache from his injuries catching up to him. Despite only being up for a couple of hours at most, he felt exhausted. But he couldn’t lie down to sleep just yet. Not with Heisuke continuing to linger next to his bed. 

Shin looked up at Heisuke. If he’d seemed off at dinner, now he looked downright depressed. It was a fast drop in his mood, and not one Shin was prepared for. He didn’t even have Piisuke here – the bird having fallen asleep at the table halfway through dinner – to help cheer him up. He waited a few seconds to see if Heisuke would speak first, but when he remained silent, Shin spoke up.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Heisuke’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his expression twisted. Shit, was that the wrong thing to ask? Shin panicked internally. Maybe he was supposed to already know what was wrong, but no matter how he racked his brain, he couldn’t figure out what.

Heisuke always had loud thoughts, and even now, Shin could feel them brushing at the edges of his mind. Reaching for them would almost certainly make his headache worse, but he could probably bear it for a few seconds. A few seconds was all he’d need. Bracing himself, Shin focused on those thoughts, trying to hear through the fog in his mind. 

“...not okay…”  

Only the tail end of a thought made its way through before pain lanced across his head. He couldn’t suppress his reaction, eyes squeezing shut and a hand coming up to clutch at the side of his head. Even in the darkness, it felt like the world was spinning around him. Shin managed to stay upright, though that was in part thanks to Heisuke lurching forward to grab his shoulders. 

“Shin, what’s wrong? Should I get Taro?” Heisuke asked. Somehow, he remembered to keep his voice down, a face Shin was grateful for. Unfortunately, his hold was agitating Shin’s injured shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” Shin gritted out. He forced his eyes open to prove his point. Everything kept tilting to the side, warping at the edges. He scooched backward until he could lean against the headboard. Heisuke let his hands drop, but they still hovered outstretched like he didn’t know what to do with them. He settled for sitting on the edge of the bed, dropping his hands to his lap. 

“Look, I can’t read your thoughts right now, but I can tell something’s bothering you. So spit it out already,” Shin said. Heisuke turned away. In profile, his expression was hard to discern, further obscured by the dim lighting of the room and Shin’s tilting vision.

“I feel like it’s my fault you ended up hurt so bad,” Heisuke admitted. 

“It isn’t,” Shin said.

Heisuke shook his head. “The whole time we were in there, I kept draggin’ you down. And then with Tenkyu-”

“You weren’t dragging me down,” Shin interrupted him. He didn’t want to talk about Tenkyu. Not ever if he could get away with it, but definitely not now. He didn’t have the energy for it. And more importantly, Shin had to stop Heisuke from beating up on himself so much. 

“Even without your rifle, you were still helping me out plenty. Like that laser trap on B2. I wouldn’t have made it out of there without you. Or that shot at Torres’ safety when we were leaving.” 

“Well…” Heisuke mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. 

“You’re a crazy skilled sniper, Heisuke. No one else could’ve done that,” Shin said. Heisuke was unable to hold back a smile at the praise, but it was fleeting. 

“Maybe. But I still couldn’t do anything to help with Tenkyu,” he said. 

“What happened with Tenkyu had nothing to do with you. I ended up like this because I still wasn’t strong enough. That’s on me,” Shin said. 

He knew he was getting better, and he’d even managed to awaken a new power while fighting Tenkyu, but it was taking him too long to make these improvements. Maybe the others didn’t see this weakness as a burden, but that didn’t mean Shin was okay with how he was lagging behind.

“Why does it all have to be on you? Not everything’s your fault!” Heisuke snapped, his voice rising for the first time into a near shout. Shin winced at the volume. Heisuke was more than upset now; he looked angry. 

“If I’d been stronger, I could’ve helped. If you could’ve relied on me, then maybe you… You would’ve….” Heisuke deflated, shoulders curling inwards. Somehow, in his efforts to cheer Heisuke up, Shin managed to do the exact opposite. 

 “I do rely on you,” Shin said.

“Then why didn’t you take my hand?” Heisuke asked.

This conversation would have been hard enough to have on a good day, but with the way exhaustion pulled at the edges of his mind, Shin was seriously flailing here. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if that would do anything for the throbbing at his temples. 

“I guess… I wasn’t thinking straight,” Shin said quietly. At the time, he’d genuinely believed Tenkyu needed to die. Taking Heisuke’s hand would have meant knowing the evil Tenkyu was capable of, but doing nothing to stop it. At least, that’s what he’d believed then. 

“What were you thinking?”

“If I left him alive, then he’d kill the people I care about. But if I killed him, then I wouldn’t be any better than he was. Someone like that wouldn’t belong here,” Shin said, and vaguely gestured to the space around him. “I couldn’t turn back, but I didn’t want to drag you down with me either. You belong here.”

“So do you,” Heisuke said instantly. Shin offered a tired smile.

“Yeah, I know. I was being dumb.”

“Right. So, next time, just let me help,” Heisuke said. 

“Okay,” Shin agreed. 

Heisuke looked relieved, his face relaxing back into his usual cheerful smile. Somehow, Shin had managed to get through that conversation, but it’d used up the last of his energy. He shifted away from the headboard to lie down properly in his bed.

“Now that that’s settled, I’m going to sleep,” Shin said. Nothing was holding him back now.

“Ah, crap! Didn’t mean to keep you up so long,” Heisuke said, standing up.

“Mm, don’t worry about it,” Shin mumbled, eyes closing. 

“G’night,” Heisuke called as he left the room. Shin was already asleep.