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By mid-afternoon, Thieves’ Rest had settled into its slowest hours. The lunch crowd had long since filtered out, leaving behind only the faint warmth of bodies that had occupied the space earlier and the lingering scent of baked bread and sugar.
A few tables remained scattered with crumbs and empty cups, but even those were disappearing as Shuriken moved through the café, wiping tables down with methodical care.
Vinestaff stood in the staff room with the door wide open, carefully rearranging a small cluster of potted plants she’d brought in that morning. Thin green stems curled around her wooden arm, grafted neatly along the sprouts. Leaves trembled whenever she shifted her weight. She hummed under her breath, barely audible over the low clatter of dishes and the muted sounds from the kitchen.
Slingshot was in the back, elbow-deep in flour, preparing for the next day. Every so often, the sound of a cabinet shutting too hard carried through the doorway, followed by a huffed breath and the scrape of a bowl being dragged across the counter.
No one chose to speak. The day was over, and so was everyone's energy.
He wiped down the last empty table near the window, then paused, cloth still in hand, as a wave of exhaustion rolled through him. It wasn’t sudden, nothing ever was, but it was heavy, settling into his shoulders and down his spine like something physical. He could feel himself wobbling a bit.
He straightened up.
There was always something to do. If he stopped moving, the tiredness had a way of catching up.
After a few moments, the door to the cafe once again opened, inviting the cool, chilly wind inside.
Shuriken’s head lifted automatically, even before the sound of Coil’s voice followed it.
“Oh, wow,” Coil said, loud and pleased, as he stepped inside. “Dead in here. Guess we picked the perfect time.”
Skateboard came in behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, eyes flicking around the café with easy familiarity. He smiled faintly when he spotted Vine Staff at the counter and raised a hand in greeting.
“Hey,” he said. “Slow day?”
Vine Staff nodded. “Almost done.”
Despite Vinestaff being… eccentric, Skateboard had been friendly enough to converse with her, eventually resulting in the two becoming pretty good friends. Shuriken was proud of his sister for that. He wished he had the same social battery needed to make friends. He was only merely acquaintances with Skateboard.
Slingshot appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. The moment his eyes landed on Coil, his expression hardened.
“No,” he said.
Coil blinked. “No?”
“I’m not serving you,” Slingshot clarified. “I've been wanting to beat you up for ages, and I don’t feel like dealing with another one of your annoying comments again today.”
Skateboard let out a quiet laugh. “C’mon, Sling. We’ll behave.”
Coil grinned, already leaning into the counter. “Define behave.”
Slingshot turned his gaze away from Coil and called out, “Shuriken.”
Shuriken paused mid-step.
“You take their order,” Slingshot said, already turning back toward the kitchen. “If he says anything mean, I’ll break his ankles. Don’t worry.”
"How rude!" Coil snickered, feining hurt. Slingshot rolled his eyes.
"Uhh- I- Okay—"
He set the cloth aside, picked up a notepad, and crossed the café.
Coil watched him approach with obvious interest, eyes bright in the way they always were when he sensed an opportunity for entertainment.
"You're really damn quiet, you know that?" Coil teased. If he was expecting a reaction, then Shuriken would not provide one.
Shuriken stopped at the table. “What can I get you?”
Skateboard tilted his head, studying him. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” Shuriken replied automatically, waiting for their order. He refused to dwell on his exhaustion.
Coil leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. “So what, you just… do this all day? Walk around, clean stuff, take orders?”
“Yes.”
“Wow,” Coil said. “Thrilling.”
Skateboard shot him a look. “Dude.”
“What?” Coil shrugged. “I’m just making conversation. I didn't know that was also illegal now. Can't believe my rights to free speech is getting taken away."
"You don't mess with the quiet ones…" Skateboard explained as if this were general knowledge. "They'll murder you in your sleep."
"I know, but it's fun, especially since Shuri seems like the guy to do that. How long do you think before I end up dead on your couch with a ninja star lodged in my throat?" Coil joked, turning away from the two inphernals (who winced from the slightly violent description) near him and faced Slingshot. "Right Sling?"
"I will break your ankles regardless of if you're mean to Shuri."
"Ouch."
"I don't- I don't kill people…" Shuri mumbled a bit. Slingshot paused his baking, his gaze locked at Coil's face.
"Coil, I will be the one to murder you in your sleep. Stop teasing my brother."
"Uhm… anyways, I'll have-"
Shuriken wrote down their order as Skateboard and Coil rattled it off, his pen moving steadily across the page. He didn’t look up or react when Coil commented on how quiet he was, or how he didn’t seem to have much of a personality.
“That a skill?” Coil asked. “Ignoring people? No wonder why you have no friends."
Shuriken tore the slip from the pad. “I’ll put this in.”
Shuriken delivered the order to the counter, then moved back into the rhythm of the café. He rinsed cups, wiped down surfaces that were already clean, aligned chairs. Each task bled into the next, seamless and repetitive.
He hated it.
He hated it so much.
At least it gave him something to focus on besides the weight behind his eyes.
He wished he could go back to Darkage, but his siblings experienced so much trauma from that faction. It was unfair. It was unfair how attached he felt to wanting a purpose.
From the table, Coil’s voice continued to drift across the room.
“So,” Coil said, louder than his usual volune, considering that the café was empty, “you three are siblings, right?”
“Yeah,” Shuriken replied. “What about it?”
“That’s wild,” Coil went on. “You all ended up here together. Feels… uneven.”
Shuriken’s hand paused on the counter.
“Uneven how?” Skateboard asked, though there was an edge to his tone now.
Coil tilted his head, thinking. “I dunno. Everyone’s got a role, I guess.”
Shuriken stayed where he was, back turned, breathing steady.
“Like,” Coil continued, counting on his fingers, “Slingshot runs the place. Vine Staff’s got the plants and all that. Skate’s the whole saving-people-from-collapsing-buildings guy.”
Skateboard shifted in his seat. “Where are you going with this?”
Coil shrugged. “Just thinking out loud.”
Shuriken turned to Slingshot, expecting some sort of comfort or defense, but Sling was no where to be seen.
He must've been taking out the trash.
Of course, Shuriken would have to deal with whatever Coil said to him alone.
“And then there’s him,” Coil added casually.
Shuriken felt the words before he fully registered them.
“He kinda feels like the weak link.”
The café went very quiet, at least to Shuriken. He froze for half a second. His grip tightened on the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening for just a second before he forced his hand to relax, continuing on with his job and trying to ignore the burning sensation he felt in his eyes.
“I’ll bring your order out when it’s ready,” he said.
Coil opened his mouth, then hesitated. “I mean—”
Shuriken was already moving.
He focused on the mechanics of his body instead: the way his feet hit the floor, the weight of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He told himself it didn’t matter. Coil didn’t know him. Coil didn’t know anything.
Words were just words.
The drinks were ready. He picked them up carefully, arranging them on the tray with practiced ease. His hands shook faintly as he lifted it, but he adjusted his grip until it steadied.
He could finish this.
For a split second, he saw Vinestaff. He face told him she was worried.
Worried.
She was worried for him.
It made no sense. Shuriken never went through anything troubling. He has a happy life, a family, and a stable job.
It made no sense why she would be worried for him.
Shuriken really was the weak link, huh.
Weak link.
It wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t even said cruelly. It was tossed out like an observation, like a fact that had simply occurred to Coil and seemed worth sharing.
Halfway across the café, his vision blurred. The edges of the room darkened, like someone had dimmed the lights without telling him. He slowed, pausing near the counter, breath hitching.
Not now.
He set the cups down, leaning against the counter for just a moment, and counted to three.
One.
Two.
Three.
The floor felt solid beneath his feet again. He straightened, picked up the cups, and continued toward the table.
Skateboard noticed first. “Hey, man—”
Shuriken reached them and carefully set the drinks down.
“Here you go,” he said.
The words came out softer than he expected.
Shuriken walked back to the counter, straightening himself.
And the world tilted.
Shuriken felt his knees start to buckle without his permission. He didn’t have time to brace himself before he went down, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs as darkness rushed in.
The café froze.
And then everything went black.
For half a second, no one moved.
Then, Skateboard was on his feet.
“-Hey, hey…!” He crossed the space in two long strides, crouching beside Shuriken as his body lay unmoving near their table. “Shuriken?” He waved a hand in front of his face. No response. “Sling!”
Slingshot appeared from outside almost immediately, flour still on his hands. The moment he saw Shuriken on the floor, his expression snapped from slightly irritated to alarmed.
“What happened?” he demanded, already moving.
“He just-” Skateboard gestured vaguely toward the counter. “He was standing and then he wasn’t.”
Coil stood halfway out of his chair, eyes wide. “I didn’t touch him,” he said quickly, keeping his hands up in the air. He was 90% sure he was going to be murdered by Slingshot, even though he didn't deliberately try to hurt him. “I swear, I didn’t-”
Slingshot shot him a look sharp enough to stop him mid-sentence. “Sit. Down.” He pointed toward the back of the café, voice tight. “Both of you. Now.”
Skateboard hesitated, glancing between Shuriken and Slingshot. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Slingshot snapped, already kneeling. “Give me room.”
Skateboard steered Coil away, though his attention kept flicking back. Coil didn’t argue this time, sinking into the chair with a restless fidget, clearly unsure where to put his hands.
Slingshot carefully adjusted Shuriken’s position, checking his breathing. “Shuriken,” he said, louder now. “Hey. Wake up.”
Nothing.
“Okay… okay,” Slingshot muttered under his breath, forcing himself to slow down. “He’s breathing. That’s good. That’s good.”
From the hallway, hurried footsteps approached.
Vine Staff appeared at the threshold, eyes immediately locking onto Shuriken on the floor. “What happened?” she asked sharply, already moving closer.
“He collapsed,” Skateboard said from the back, voice tense. “Just… out.”
Vine Staff dropped to her knees beside Slingshot without hesitation. “Shuri?” She reached out instinctively, then stopped herself, hands hovering uselessly. “He was fine earlier.”
Slingshot shook his head. “He’s been exhausted all week,” he said, frustration bleeding through. “I should’ve sent him home.”
Coil leaned forward in his chair. “I didn’t think he’d just-” He cut himself off when Slingshot looked at him again.
“Not now,” Slingshot said flatly.
The café felt suddenly too quiet, like the air itself was holding its breath. Vine Staff pressed her lips together, eyes flicking over Shuriken’s still form, searching for any sign of movement.
“Should we…" Skateboard started, his voice feeling unsure if he should really be talking right now. “Get help? Water? Something?”
“I don’t know,” Slingshot admitted, rubbing his hands along his horns. “Just… stay there. Don’t crowd him.”
Shuriken’s eyes opened to the dim, familiar green-colored ceiling of his bedroom. Everything smelled faintly of linen and the soft, lingering aroma of baked bread from the kitchen a few rooms ahead. For a few breaths, he didn’t move, he just lay there, letting the quiet settle around him like a blanket.
The bed beneath him was soft, supportive in a way he hadn’t realized he’d missed. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in weeks, maybe months. He missed his restful, undisturbed sleep. His body felt lighter than it had in what seemed like forever, as if some invisible weight had been lifted. His limbs stretched without effort, his muscles no longer tight with exhaustion, and for a fleeting moment, he almost didn’t remember why he’d ever felt tired at all.
Then, slowly, the reality of the day crept back in. His head felt heavy, his stomach uneasy, and a faint nausea lingered at the edge of his senses. Three hours of sleep a week and the weight of everything he carried didn’t vanish just because he had collapsed onto a bed for a few hours. It would take weeks, probably months, actually, to make up for all his lost sleep.
A muffled shouting drifted through the open door.
“…I don’t care if you think it’s a joke! You never mess with my family like that again!”
Shuriken’s stomach flipped. The voice was unmistakably Slingshot. Livelihoods of calm, meticulous control now gone, replaced with fury.
“…Do you understand? Never. Again!”
“Slingshot…” Vine Staff’s softer voice tried to reason with him, “he didn’t mean…”
But it was too late. Shuriken could feel the vibration of Slingshot’s anger through the walls, the words like thunder. Even from his room, he could hear the anger and protectiveness in every syllable.
Slowly, he tried to push himself upright, the mattress sagging under his weight. His vision swam immediately, speeding in dizzy circles, and a quiet groan escaped him as nausea climbed in waves. His hands pressed against the mattress for balance, and he closed his eyes, willing the spinning to stop.
Then, of course, a lump rose in his throat, the distinct tightening sensation of tears that had been buried under weeks of exhaustion and hiding. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want anyone to know he felt like this. But his body remembered what it meant to be an inphernal. To be tired. To be vulnerable.
“Shuriken!” The door creaked open slightly, and Slingshot’s voice softened immediately when he saw the dark eye bags under Shuriken’s eyes, the pale hue to his already lighter skin, the way he clutched the bed for balance.
“Shuri…” Slingshot said gently, though a flicker of his earlier anger still lingered. He crouched beside the bed, careful not to startle him. “Hey… you’re awake.”
Shuriken blinked up at him, swallowing the lump in his throat. His voice came out weak, almost foreign. “S… Sling…”
Vine Staff appeared after Slingshot in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, her expression a mix of relief and frustration. “He’s awake,” she said softly, shooting a pointed look at Coil. “You and Skateboard should head home for now.”
Coil blinked, caught between guilt and confusion. Skateboard gave him a quiet nod and murmured something about checking in later, then both of them left. The apartment door closed softly behind them.
Slingshot finally turned his full attention to Shuriken, the anger evaporating completely now, replaced with concern. “You’re not a weak link,” he said firmly, almost like repeating it to himself as much as to Shuriken. “Do you hear me? You are not.”
Shuriken’s stomach twisted from the lifted weight of hiding vulnerability. He tried to sit up further, but the room tilted again, and Slingshot immediately put a hand to his shoulder to steady him.
“Shhh, just stay there,” Slingshot murmured. “It’s okay. You need to take it slow.”
Vine Staff stepped forward, rubbing Shuriken's left horn with her inphernal hand. Shuriken slightly purred at the gesture. “He’s right, Shuri,” she said softly. “You’re strong. You’ve always been strong, in your own way. Don’t let words like that… stick. You know how Coil is. He says stuff that isn't even true."
Shuriken swallowed, unsure if he could speak. His body still felt light and shaky from exhaustion, but the comfort of his siblings nearby made him want to cry more. This time not from pain, but out of the relief of being seen and protected.
Of finally feeling like he belonged for once.
Slingshot straightened slightly, exhaling through his nose. “I told Coil he’s banned from the cafe for a month. No exceptions. You don’t have to see him again until I say so.” His glare flicked briefly toward the doorway where Coil had left. “Skateboard’s fine, he didn’t do anything wrong. But I swear, I will enforce this rule."
Shuriken licked his lips, feeling how dry they were before. He was dehydrated too, wasn't he? “Thanks…”
Vinestaff perched on the edge of Shuriken's bed. "We love you, Shuri. You're our brother. You mean so much to us. You're the whimsical one of us three, you keep the mood happy. We'd be much more depressed if you weren't there to cheer us up."
"Exactly!" Slingshot piped up. "You're also really fun to compete against. I wouldn't choose someone who's an easy target to compete for the most kills, that's boring! Why do you think you're my go to for that kind of stuff?"
"And you're really stealthy. I swear, the amount of times you've saved me in phights… it's a lot. More than I can count on my fingers and toes." Vinestaff added.
Shuriken closed his eyes briefly, letting the words settle. He felt the nausea ebb slightly, the spinning in his vision calm down, and for the first time in weeks, he could breathe like a living person.
Slingshot rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Get some sleep, yeah? I'll give you the next few days off, rest Shuri. Okay?"
Shuriken nodded slowly, “Okay,” he whispered.