Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Out of your brothers, you're one of the first few to emerge from the entrance to the train station. You hadn't thought it was already that late, but you blame your loss of time perception on the extended period of time spent without the sun hanging above your head. It looks to be about seven already, the sun setting in the horizon.

Well, you’ve spent two weeks trekking through this disaster. It’s about time. The apocalypse hasn’t exactly been kind, but you think it could be worse. The six of you are still alive after all; and aside from Todomatsu’s broken wrist, the gash in Osomatsu’s shoulder and your headache that's been persisting forever, you’re not doing too badly. You think you have enough food until you get to the relief centre. You have to get there.

There's a huge makeshift sign hung over the trees.

(Chiba Relief Centre) ->

...And underneath the sign, there's another round of walkers.

Same old, same old.

You don't need to call for backup--Osomatsu comes running forward, crowbar poised. Jyushimatsu makes his presence known in a bigger way, choosing to take the first shot directly into a walker's skull. Todomatsu passed you his shiv earlier as added protection--since nobody wants him out here in his condition--but you have to admit the thought of slicing anything off anyone makes you queasy. And given that you aren't doing too well either, you have special privileges to refrain from getting into the heat of combat.

And yet, you can't just stand there.

You hold your fire. You tried fiddling around with your gun this morning to try and at least check the ammunition, but when nothing worked after a few pulls, you decided it might be safe to keep it this way and hope for the best.

Ichimatsu has his explosives out, the tiny ones, and he takes great care in aiming for the walkers' ankles. It works in getting the walkers to slow in movement, but they just keep moving, dragging themselves across the road. The mob moves like a sea, undulating towards you.

Choromatsu has his hands busy, his throwing knives practically fastened to his sweaty palms as he jabs them into the walkers. What little sweat he can afford to lose glistens on his brow. He needs help, you think again. He hasn't fought for a while. You know he doesn't like combat. That's a little ironic--you know how he never hesitated to move his fist against any of you when you were being your usual, NEET selves.

"Ichimatsu!" you call, gesturing to the walkers gaining slowly on Choromatsu. There's the sound of two tiny explosions and you briefly see Choromatsu take the distraction as an opportunity to roundhouse kick them to the ground. Whew. You're about to go help him when a rapid movement catches your eye.

Another sprinter. The ones that move fast--faster than any of your brothers believe. It's all the way over there.

Osomatsu is not looking.

Your legs move without really thinking about it, and your heart barely has time to catch up with what's going on before you're throwing yourself between the sprinter and Osomatsu. Your leg slams into Osomatsu's as you force the gun in front of you.

The sprinter's forehead presses against the barrel of your gun, you can see its skull through the thin, green flesh, its hands ghost over your face--

The trigger gives under your finger, once, twice, three times in quick succession. No gunshot, no gun kick. The empty click of the gun makes your stomach sink to your knees. In panic, you raise your arms to block the zombie’s face from touching him.

What a silly, reckless man.

Teeth sink into your arm.

It sends sparks of agony rippling down your lower arm all the way to your torso, and then your head is filled with loud static clouding your mind and help, it HURTS, SOMEBODY HELP ME--but then, but then--the walker comes down onto you and fight or flight response kicks into full gear. With what strength you have left, you grab Osomatsu’s fallen crowbar from the ground and swing with your good arm (your right arm, how unfortunate), wincing with each impact, each guttural scream that sounds so much louder up close.

The walker stops moving. The energy drains from you, so you give a final kick into its stomach, enough to push it off you. You reach quickly for the wound, but there's blood spilling out it is so deep--

"Karamatsu?" Osomatsu's voice is barely a whisper. His eyes are wider than saucers, his irises so fearful you are achingly reminded of how much you mirror each other sometimes. The confusion fades so quickly you almost don't catch it, but now his face morphs into some disgusting cluster of horror and panic. The muscle of your forearm throbs with pain. Your mind races to grasp some semblance of logic.

It’s deathly quiet.

How long do you have?

You pull a hazy memory from your mind. "T-Ten minutes, r-right, Ichimatsu?" You hate the way your voice shakes. When he doesn't respond, you cast an expectant look at him. White flashes of pain jump at your vision (you turned too quickly, quickly). He recoils in slight surprise and nods curtly, but his mouth is hanging open, lower lip quivering, his hand still mid-reach for the explosives in the pockets of his jumpsuit.

You come to the same conclusion everyone else does, at the same time. Sextuplets just have that kind of telepathy, you suppose with a grim smile.

Your hands tremble uncontrollably with the roll of bandages, but Osomatsu's hands are shaking even more so, his mouth forming incomplete words. You look at the ground underneath you (the sun feels like it burns overhead, even though there’s little light left) and wrap the bandages tightly around the bite mark. Each movement sends needles driving into your skin. You think about the alcohol swabs in your pocket, and all the medical rules you’re flouting. No need for those now, you think.

"Karamatsu?" Osomatsu’s voice rises to levels that hurt your ears.

You pull harder, flinching at the pressure on the wound. You feel dizzy. It doesn't really matter if you die now or not, does it? All you know is that you need to get out of there, and soon. You tear the roll off your arm and secure the bandages in place before tossing the bandages back into the bag. Oddly enough, you don't feel upset. There's a serene peace residing inside of you, and it’s almost foreign. You haven't felt this calm since the apocalypse started. How could you have? You look over all your brothers, taking in their faces a final time. You can feel your chest tightening, and take a quick bow.

"Thank you! I...I'm glad I was helpful!"

Horror crashes over their features like a tidal wave as you give each brother a hug, careful not to get your blood on their clothes, wishing you could imprint their smells on your skin and clothes forever. Nobody reaches back for you. You dismiss this as shock.

"Osomatsu, you're in charge of this now." You drop the bag to the ground, but he doesn't take it. He stares at you with those pained, hollow eyes.

You smile at your brothers, despite the growing numbness in your arm. You feel like you might pass out. Make it quick, make it quick. You’ll turn any moment now. "Please...don't worry about me! I'm glad we got through this together! Pl-Please, go and say hello to Mom and Dad for me, okay?”

You take a deep breath, turn on your heels and run.

You run past the train station entrance as quickly as your feet will carry you, pain still stinging your arm and your eyes. Goodbye, brothers. I’m sorry I got bitten. A pounding headache begins to set in as the sky darkens even more. Ten minutes sure is a long time when you’re not having fun. Breathless and throat burning, you slow down just as you enter the next part of the city.

An impending sense of doom settles over you. It’s so dark. You’re going to die alone. You don’t even know what it’s like to live alone--but dying alone is probably not so bad...right?

You let yourself laugh dryly, and duck into the nearest convenience store. The darkness seems to shroud you in ice. You suppose it’s better not to run into anyone. Or would it be better to be put out of your misery sooner?

You collapse against the shelf. They’ll be safe this way. They would have gotten rid of me sooner or later. They’ll be safe this way. Nobody has to see me become...one of them. Goodness, you’re marked now. Stupid. Stupid Kusomatsu.

With each heartbeat, the bleeding wound throbs against your bandages. You laugh again, watching the shadows move with the setting sun. You haven’t laughed in ages.

----------------------------

His figure disappears over the horizon, and then it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“He’s gone,” you state the obvious, wow shut up Ichimatsu. You feel the invisible pressure coil around your chest, like something’s trying to dig your heart out. You weren’t expecting any of it. Not him getting bitten. Not him running away. You know you could have done something. You were about to throw the dynamite, but you were slow. You were slow. You always have been.

He’s turned now. It’s definitely been ten minutes--and even if it hasn’t, there is no way he would be able to hold on for much longer. You’ve always been a realistic person, perhaps to the point of pessimism--but at least you never got your hopes up for no reason at all like he did. That said, the truth still stands--you could have done something, anything to keep him safe.

But, nope.

The air is pulled taut with pain. You know it’s getting late. You think you should be crying or something, but all that fills your mind is how you’re this close to Chiba, it’s right there, why why why why why--

“W-We have to go.” Choromatsu’s words trip over themselves.

“That idiot.” Osomatsu spits.

He hasn’t picked the bag up. Karamatsu’s bag, flecked with bloodstains, sags against his leg. You can hear the way he hissed in pain at the moment--you’d thought he’d just gotten scratched, or he tripped, but he ran faster than you’ve ever seen him run--

Your legs feel like dead weight, but you force yourself to move, you take steps towards Osomatsu. You’ve never seen your brother look quite so lost. Looking away, you close your fingers around the strap of the bag.

“Look,” you say, your voice cutting. You shove the bag into his back. “He gave you this. So take it.” You can do it. It’s the least you can do, you want to add, but you’re not too sure yourself that he really can. Osomatsu tears his eyes away from the horizon, the whites of his eyes pink with lack of sleep and grief. You tear your own stare away, nose prickling with tears. He takes the bag without a word and slings it over his shoulder.

“We have to go.” you echo Choromatsu with a different force to them. For some reason, he flinches as the words leave your mouth. You pull the rolled up, crumpled map out of your bag and start walking. Your hands shake, your chest is still tight. You feel like you’re betraying him, but realistically speaking, you need to get to safety. Choromatsu takes Osomatsu’s hands and drags him after you. You glance back to see Todomatsu and Jyushimatsu walking near you, their heads bowed. You think Todomatsu’s crying but you can’t tell because you can barely breathe, your heart’s still being dug out.

“Hey!”

You snap your head up. Anger--no, hatred, fury, rage burns in the recesses of your chest. You watch the white buggy pull towards you, the woman with the sandy hair leaning out. Ha. You’re kidding. You’re kidding. You’re kidding me. They’re getting closer, dressed in white, like angels...

“Do you need a ride to the relief centre?” she asks kindly, scanning your faces. “We’re from the--”

“You.” you bellow. “Where were you when we needed you?”

“I-Ichimatsu!”

She’s leaning back, you hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten. You want to punch her in the face.

“Excuse me...?”

You had words to say. You had words to say.

“You were slow,” you say, mostly to yourself, but also to her, and to the whole world that failed to save your older brother. “You didn’t save him. You’re useless.”

The woman’s expression barely falters, making your fists even more restless--but you can’t even hit her. It’s not her fault, your rationality pleads. She couldn’t have done anything.

Karamatsu wouldn’t want this.

The next thing you know, you’re on the buggy, and Jyushimatsu is holding your hands in your lap. They’re clenched so tightly your knuckles pulse white.

----------------------------

Your parents don’t take the news well.

You don’t want to be here, lying in the humid darkness, listening to your mother in the tent beside you, sobbing into her pillow, and Choromatsu probably kneeling by her side, mumbling things by the light of a lamp. Osomatsu’s in there too.

You lie in the corner. You’re using his sleeping bag. Nobody notices. It’s the same as anyone else’s anyway--drenched in sweat that would take a good number of washes to get rid of. You feel like you’re being swallowed by the fabric. Jyushimatsu is curled on his side, facing you, his arms around his baseball bat. It was scrubbed clean while he was getting his full body check. It looks almost brand new. His eyes remain open, watching you. You feel Todomatsu lying with his back against yours, his breathing slow and steady. Somehow, you think he’s not sleeping. You hold your brother’s gaze.

“Hey, Jyushimatsu.”

A soft breath in response. That’s comforting. You didn’t think he would bother, especially after--

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” you whisper, moving your hand to touch his face. The side of his head is damp with sweat. That should be a good sign--he’s no longer severely dehydrated. The dim lamp in your own tent outlines his silhouette. He nods slowly.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

Nod. A shudder.

Me too.

“If he were here, he’d ask if we wanted a lullaby.” you say absentmindedly. You’re tired, but closing your eyes shows you his figure disappearing away, away, far from you. You kind of wish the infirmary had given you thirty sleeping pills instead of three, but that’s selfish thinking, that’s horrible thinking, Ichimatsu. They took your explosives away. Said they would be too dangerous, too volatile. You don’t mind. You don’t care.

You try to remember the feeling of his body, still warm against your chest when he hugged you, the way he tried not to get too close and yet grappled for every inch of your life--the way his face was contorted with agony and yet with satisfaction and genuine happiness that hey, at least his brothers survived! his beloved, wonderful brothers! he saved them! And all you can think is, I wasn’t worth that. You weren’t worth his love and passion and all that he did for you.

He carried the bag, the sack of death, the whole way, and you never even thought to help him.

Sure, you gave him a mask. You told him he wasn’t going to turn. You told him you were so sure.

You’re not sure when the sun rises, and you’re surprised when it stays up.

----------------------------

“Matsuno-san? You okay?”

You wipe Karamatsu’s pained face from your vision and glance up at the man speaking to you.

“Sorry,” you reply with a polite bow. “Wh-What...were you saying?"

Taro is tall and intimidating, what with the long dark hair and chiselled features--but his voice is surprisingly kind when he wants it to be. He was the driver who drove the buggy that picked you up that day, but now you’ve learned he’s also one of the people in charge of the food and provision distribution. The only reason you’re the only Matsuno standing here now is because none of your brothers have really left the tent except to use the bathroom. It feels like death regardless of whichever tent you’re in.

You couldn’t stand it in there. You wanted to bite your nails off.

You’d excused yourself and had been circling the hall for a good forty minutes or so when Taro bumped into you. Now, the two of you stand in the heat of the sun beside the small pantry building that holds most of the food and supplies. You find it incredible thinking of all the food in there, and how it can sustain the hundreds of people that inhabit the place.

“I was talking about the food rationing,” Taro says, gesturing towards the boxes in the pantry building, “but if you, uh, need more time to--”

“I’m okay,” you interject, refusing to let the tremors inside you shake your voice. “Please, continue.”

Taro takes a deep breath. “Okay, so every day, each person gets two litres of water. They’ll be outside your tent. Every four days, every person gets a full meal. This meal includes rice, meat, and vegetables. Sometimes there’ll be additional items if we’re feeling generous. And we can’t guarantee equality. Families are free to share whatever they have among themselves, whenever they want. You got that?”

“Yes,” you say with a solemn nod.

“If you want your own extra food, you’ll need to cook it yourself.” Taro continues. “The kitchen areas in the convention halls are kinda small though, and electricity might run out if we run out of gas for the day. But they’re free for use. Just don’t burn the place down. Tell that to your brothers too.”

“Thank you, Taro-san. Is there anything else we have to know?”

Taro thinks for a moment. “Nah. Just take care of each other. And be cautious. There are still bad people in here, who will try to sabotage others. The higher-ups try to keep it contained, but when everyone’s hurting, it’s difficult. So just protect yourself, and help out where you can.”

You bow again. “Thank you so much. You’ve helped us a lot.”

Taro’s smile is strained. “Don’t worry. How are your brothers? Is that...uh, the purple one okay? Minami keeps apologising, but I can’t see a reason for her to.”

“Ah, I-I’m sorry about that. Please tell her it’s all right, it wasn’t her fault in any way.” You feel a sting of guilt. You remind yourself to talk to Ichimatsu later. Or all of them. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Not you too,” Taro sighs. “Take care, you hear?”

You want to cry at how much he sounds like a manlier version of Karamatsu. You nod and quickly turn away, swiping at your eyes. At least you have allies here. It’s nice to have support.

Karamatsu doesn’t have anyone now.

You gnaw at the inside of your lip. Stop. Stop thinking that. He’s in a better place now. Better than any time he spent with you.

The convention halls are filled with the quiet murmur of tired voices. Occasionally, there’s crying in the middle of the night. Sometimes there’s screaming and boisterous laughter. It’s a lot noisier than you’d expected it to be, but you suppose it helps as a distraction. You find your tent, tapping the outer surface before entering as is customary.

“I’m back,” you whisper as you duck into the tent. You’d come up with a rotation system the first night, after spending hours trying to comfort Osomatsu after a night terror so he wouldn’t wake your parents up. The system began with you and Osomatsu in your parents’ tent at first, leaving Jyushimatsu, Ichimatsu and Todomatsu in the other. The second day, you’d switch with Jyushimatsu. The third day, Osomatsu would switch with Todomatsu. And this lasted a week, until each of you had at at least one night with your parents. Your brothers had unanimously agreed, but really only because they couldn’t think too much about it. You can’t recall how many times you’d accidentally began to write Karamatsu’s name down only to scribble it out angrily.

Today, it’s Osomatsu and Ichimatsu. Osomatsu is sitting up, eating chips and facing away from you.

“Where’s Ichimatsu?” you ask, making sure he isn’t one of the lumps of the sleeping bag.

Osomatsu shrugs. “He said he wanted to pet cats.”

You nod and sit down beside him. Osomatsu doesn’t meet your gaze. The crunching of the chips is the only sound in the stuffy tent.

“Please take a shower today, Osomatsu-niisan,” you say quietly. “You stink.”

Osomatsu pauses. You almost regret your words. You’d been trying to cheer him up since the first day, but you had no idea how to go about doing it. Osomatsu’s usually the one doing that, but now he can’t, and you know why. All five of you (man, that hurts a little to say) do.

You open your mouth to apologise when your older brother laughs humourlessly. “About time you started scolding me, Choromatsu. That took you a while.”

“H-hey, I was trying to be nice…”

“I know, I know. I’ll take a shower tonight, okay?”

He reaches for his shoulder, scratching the skin under his shirt. It’s the same bloodied one he’s been wearing for ages. You gently take his wrist and pull it away.

“Can you not?” you ask, voice cracking, and then--oh no, you weren’t supposed to cry--

Osomatsu looks a bit startled himself, his wide eyes the last thing you see as your vision goes blurry and your throat closes. You rub at your eyes again, wetting the sleeves of your new shirt. He opens his arms, and you let yourself be held. He rubs your back the way you’ve always stroked his. He’s definitely not as gentle--but it’s still comforting.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know. We can all see how tired you are.”

You swallow your sob. You’re not going to break down. Please. Not here. Not yet.

“Sorry we don’t listen,” Osomatsu murmurs, resting his head on your shoulder.

I can’t believe we left him. What kind of brothers are we? What kind of leader am I?

“Don’t say that, Choro. Think about it.” Osomatsu says, pushing you away from him so he can rub your tears away. You push his hand away, your own stubbornness getting the better of you. You can’t look at him.

“If we had stayed...we’d just have to see him turn. We didn’t want that, he didn’t want that, so he left. None of it is you guys’ fault, okay? It’s mine. It’s all mine.”

“N-No--”

Osomatsu’s grip on your shoulder tightens. “It is my fault. I know you know, and everyone knows.”

It’s not, it’s the world’s fault, you want to say, but this time your thoughts don’t materialize.