Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning sky is a calm blue, the rising sun still stretching out over the thinning clouds and trailing a soft pinkish-orange in its wake. Sure, the birds are screaming, and there’s no milk for her cereal, but all in all Tokaku thinks it a pleasant morning.

Still, she leans back against the counter, dipping her spoon into her bowl of dry Lucky Charms, and wills Haru to get home quickly. She’d just gone out to pick up some milk at the corner store, nothing dangerous, especially not now that they live in one of the city’s quietest areas, but Tokaku can’t help but worry; can’t help but imagine girls with purple hair lurking in alleyways with scissors at their sides. Old habits die hard, she supposes.

They’d managed to settle down peacefully, despite memories of Black Class nipping at their heels. Haru had turned getting favors from Ms. Yuru into an artform, and managed to set them up with a small apartment in a neat, cozy building just far enough from the school. And though she still needs to remind Tokaku that she’s alive from time to time, the two are faring rather well.

At least until Haru slowly bumps the door open with her hips, a plastic bag in one hand and an envelope in the other.

Tokaku’s blood runs cold.

An envelope means only one thing: an advanced notice, another grab for Haru’s life.

She doesn’t even register the fact that she’s put her cereal down, mind racing a mile a minute. She’ll need her knives- though they need sharpening- and a gun, too, for precaution. She reaches for the envelope with shaking hands.

“Tokaku,” Haru says, pulling the envelope away, voice soft and eyes filling with realization. “It isn’t anything like that. Don’t worry, please.”

Still on edge, Tokaku merely stares, watching as Haru shuts the door and sets the milk on the table, anxiously waiting for her to open the letter.

When she does, Tokaku’s eyes immediately snap to the torn and discarded envelope, and she’s able to make out the name ‘Inukai’ before Haru pushes it away. She tries to push out the memory of glass against her back and instead waits for Haru to finish reading.

Strangely, a smile grows on Haru’s face as she continues, and she even lets slip a small giggle before turning to Tokaku, her pigtails bouncing as she does so.

“It’s from Isuke!” she says, much to excitedly, handing Tokaku the note.

‘Tokaku & Haru:’ it reads, and Tokaku doesn’t even take the time to question how Isuke knows they’re living together.

‘You two are invited to my place for a little get together <3
I’ll be inviting as many of you as I can get my hands on, so be prepared for some old faces. You won’t have to worry about old habits though, there won’t be any assassin business. Just a couple days trying to act like actual teenagers.
Better see you there.
- Isuke’

Tokaku reads it once more, just to be sure.

“I... didn’t think she was this stupid.” She scoffs, and hands the letter back to Haru, not even bothering to read the address details stapled to the bottom. “Like we’d believe her.”

“Do you not want to go, Tokaku?”

She restrains herself from correcting ‘we’d’ to ‘I’d’ and instead shrugs. “She tried to kill us.”

She ignores the sad look Haru is undoubtedly giving her, instead shuffling back to the counter to grab her cereal and add some long-awaited milk to it. There’s only a short silence before Haru huffs.

“But Tokaku,” she says, a slight whine to her voice, “she said there’d be no assassin business.” Tokaku makes a whispered comment about Haru’s naiveté before shovelling a spoonful of marshmallowy goodness into her mouth. Who needs Isuke when you have Lucky Charms?

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tokaku. After all she just wants to spend time with us! Besides I-” Haru casts a glance at the bag of unopened certificates resting by the couch. The words die in her throat.

Tokaku pauses, another spoonful of cereal raised halfway to her lips. She closes her eyes for a moment and mentally curses herself for being unable to resists Haru’s puppy-dog eyes.

Sighing, she gives in. “Fine,” she says. “But I’m bringing knives.”

Haru’s grin is almost enough to make her forget what she just agreed to, and her hug is almost enough to quell the thousand anxieties already rising in Tokaku’s throat.

Haru jumps from the table, already murmuring about a packing checklist. Tokaku watches her run off to pack and, with another sigh, continues eating her cereal.

They’re packed and ready to go by the next evening, much sooner than Tokaku would’ve liked, but Haru is still rather excited so she tries not to let it show.

She’s on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table as she sharpens a knife, holster already fitted to her thigh. She’s lost track of how many times Haru has tried to assure her that things will be okay, how many times she’s tried to slip the thing from Tokaku’s hands while distracting her with a kiss to the forehead. Tokaku held tight, however, as there is no conceivable way for her to be relaxed in a room full of assassins without at least some form of weaponry. Honestly, she can’t understand how Haru doesn’t feel the same.

She doesn’t realize how intensely focused she is until Haru’s hands find hers again, fingers rubbing gently at her knuckles to try and relax her death grip on the knife.

“I know you’re worried,” she murmurs, resting her forehead against Tokaku’s and bumping their noses together. She succeeds in taking the knife this time, and lays it back on the coffee table before taking both of Tokaku’s hands in hers. “But things will be okay. We’ll be okay.”

The echoing ring of their doorbell cuts straight through the moment. Tokaku grimaces.

“I’ll get it.” She huffs and gently pushes Haru away in order to get up. Despite the trek to the door being rather short, she manages to think up at least seven threats for whoever ruined their peace.

She opens the door a crack, and nearly reels at the sight that greets her.

“Good God.”

“Come on, Azuma,” Nio says, grinning. “That’s no way to greet an old classmate!”

Tokaku closes the door and prays that she hit Nio in the nose.

While her and Haru had managed to at least somewhat reconcile with Nio, who had apparently refused to stay out of their lives, Tokaku is certainly not above letting her know that she’s not welcome in the middle of some awfully domestic scene between her and Haru.

But Nio is Nio, and she loves to bother them. The doorbell rings again.

Haru drifts over from the couch with a questioning look, nodding towards the door. “It was no one important,” Tokaku says and leans back against the door so Haru won’t open it.

“Hey,” Nio shouts, voice muffled but noticeably annoyed. “I’m plenty important.”

“Nio!” Haru gasps and bumps Tokaku away from the door, throwing it open and gesturing for the blonde to come inside.

Nio makes sure to give Tokaku a jab in the ribs with her elbow, sticking her tongue out at her. “You’re so mean, Azuma,” she whines, skipping into the kitchen and hauling herself up onto the counter. “Anyways, I’m here to pick you two up, if you’re ready to go.”

Tokaku blinks. “What?”

“Did Haru not tell you? We’re all going to Isuke’s together.”

She turns to Haru, who blushes and finds a sudden interest in her socks. “A-Ah,” she laughs sheepishly, “I guess I got so excited I forgot to mention it.” Nio snorts, and Tokaku groans in annoyance.

“Oh come on, Azuma, what could be better than four hours in a car with me?”
“Almost anything.”

Nio laughs again, her eyes following the two girls as they go to grab their bags. Her smile fades when she catches sight of the knife, gaze locked to it as she watches Tokaku slip it into her holster. She gulps, raises a hand to her chest, remembers.

“You won’t have to worry about me,” she says then, face and voice both surprisingly serious. Tokaku and Haru both turn to her, waiting for the usual “Just kidding, I’ll always be bothering you,” to follow.

“I’m on strict orders to relax and get some rest, so Ms. Yuri wouldn’t have let me take weapons even if I wanted to.”

Tokaku not-so-politely reminds her that she doesn’t need weapons, her powers serve danger enough. This earns a nudge and a whispered “Be nice,” from Haru, who then turns to Nio with a smile.

“Th-That’s good to hear,” she tries, and sighs in relief when Nio’s Cheshire grin returns to her face.

The blonde slips off the counter, spinning on her heels and resting a hand on her hip. “I’m not supposed to use those either,” she assures, “they take a lot of energy and Yuri’s adamant on this whole resting thing.”

Her words serve as little comfort to Tokaku but the girl still sighs in defeat and hooks her backpack over her shoulder, pulling a baseball cap onto the bedhead she hadn’t bothered brushing. “Let’s go then,” she grumbles. “I want to get these four hours over with as fast as possible.”

Haru’s laugh is reward. Nio’s is provocation.

The car finally pulls to a stop, and were Haru not be asleep on her shoulder, Tokaku would leap from backseat and run to the safety of Isuke’s home. Anything but another minute in the car with Hashiri, who’d subjected them to three awful sing-alongs and far too many stops for candy. She still seems entirely awake, despite Haru having long since dozed off and Tokaku’s many stifled yawns. She’s also somehow still surviving in her full sleeves despite the summer heat, a mystery if you were to ask Tokaku.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” the blonde practically sings, jumping out of the passenger seat and flashing the driver a peace sign and a toothy smile. She rushes around to knock on Tokaku’s window before the trunk pops open, grinning even wider.

Tokaku could kill her. Right here, right now, right in front of the driver.

Haru stirs at her side, snapping Tokaku from her murderous thoughts. She grinds her jaw to rid her voice of excess annoyance before sweeping some hair from Haru’s face. “We’re here,” she murmurs, hand lingering on the girl’s cheek. Haru smiles sleepily, leaning into her touch.

There’s another knock on the window, another grin from Nio, and Tokaku throws the door open, hitting the blonde in the stomach and knocking her over.

“Oops.”

Haru’s immediately awake and slapping Tokaku's shoulder, giving her a disapproving look as the girl shrugs and hops out of the car. She nudges Nio’s ankle with the tip of her sneaker, and receives a pouty glare in response.

Haru, always the nice one, offers Nio her hand to help her up. “Are you okay?” she asks, and as Tokaku grabs both her and Haru’s bags she wonders where the girl manages to find all that kindness.

“Fine, fine,” Nio assures as she dusts herself off. “We might wanna do something about sourpuss over there, though.” Tokaku makes a point to mess up Nio’s hair as she walks past, ignoring her words and handing Haru her backpack.

Before any more violence can occur between her two companions, Haru takes their hands and begins leading them all up to Isuke’s enormous estate. Mansion doesn’t even begin to cover it, really. The massive walls and wide windows loom over the three girls with some subtle but menacing air; a vague contrast to the incredibly sunny beach they’re on. Part of Tokaku is surprised that Isuke owns an entire beach, but a bigger part of her rolls her eyes and thinks “Typical Inukai.”

Nio pulls her hand from Haru’s grip practically slams it onto the doorbell, bouncing on her feet as she pulls back. “Oh, I’m so ready for this,” she hums, clearly excited for whatever the next few days are going to bring.

The door opens before Tokaku can roll her eyes again, and rather than Isuke, the three are greeted by a tall, brown-haired man dressed in a fraying flannel and a dark pair of jeans. His teeth gleam a perfect white in the light, and when he sweeps his hand back to welcome them inside, he reveals long slender fingers and flawless nails. Tokaku has no doubt that this is Isuke’s father.

“Welcome,” he says, and Nio rushes inside before anyone can stop her. There’s a thump, and then a surprised ‘oof,’ and when Tokaku steps inside to see what the blonde has done she finds her latched onto Isuke's waist, nuzzling her side rather affectionately.

“Please pardon her, sir,” Tokaku mutters as she pushes off her sneakers. “She’s a bit of a handful.”

Before he can respond, Haru pipes up, leaning close to Tokaku’s side and blushing nervously. “Th-Thank you very much for having us,” she says, nodding her head as a substitute bow.

The man blinks once, twice, and then lets out a cheerful laugh. “You tried to kill these wonderful girls, Isuke? But they’re so polite, shame on you.”

Haru chuckles with him but Tokaku feels suddenly dizzy, because wow, are they going to just joke about this?

She blinks into a memory. Cold glass against her neck, a blade slicing into her shoulder, her hands curling tight around Isuke’s neck and-

Someone flicks her forehead, the small pain bringing Tokaku back to reality and straight into a face full of Isuke. “Don’t think about it,” is all she says before turning to Haru and ruffling her hair.

Her father laughs again, loud and melodious, and the sound manages to give Tokaku some sense of ease. “Well, let’s all get out of the porch, shall we? Isuke will show you around and you can get settled.”

Already regretting her decision and eager to collapse into a bed, Tokaku merely nods and turns to Isuke, who’s got a hand on Nio’s shoulder now, trying to disconnect the blonde from her waist.

“Get off idiot, I have to show you around.”

“But it’s been so long! Let me have a little fun.”

Growling, Isuke moves to take Nio in a loose headlock and proceeds tousle her hair with little mercy, grinding her hand down onto the girl’s head. “You can have fun later, now let go.”

Haru smiles at them, rather fondly, and hums. “I’d forgotten how close they were,” she laughs, and Tokaku nods in agreement.

After detangling herself from Nio, Isuke keeps her word and shows them a few places around the house, stopping after leading them to the hall where most of the guest bedrooms are. “I’ve shown you the important stuff,” she yawns and waves dismissively. “Just yell if you get lost.”

As usual, Nio and Haru seem fine with this idea, both giving Isuke a smile and a nod before skipping off to the rooms she’d directed them to. Before Tokaku can move to follow Haru, Isuke speaks.

“Azuma,” she calls, and against her better judgement Tokaku turns to face her. “I can see the knife under your shorts. You’re not doing a very good job hiding it.” Upon receiving no response, she continues. “I meant what I said about there being no assassin business. Mama and Papa wanted to meet you, and I figured most of you straight-laced idiots could use a bit of fun.”

“I don’t-”

“Trust me? Yeah, yeah whatever. Just don’t take that knife to dinner, Papa won’t like it.”

With that, she saunters off, leaving Tokaku to pinch the bridge of her nose and wonder why the hell she let Haru take her here.

After giving a long sigh, she finally shuffles into her and Haru’s room and drops her bag by the door. Haru is already in her pyjamas, hair loose around her shoulders, a look Tokaku never gets tired of.

She doesn’t bother with her own pyjamas, instead just reaching under her shirt to pull off her bra and slipping off her socks, thoroughly exhausted by the long car ride and the anxiety that came with the whole situation.

Haru gives her a knowing look as she worms her way under the covers, and reaches out to run her hand through Tokaku’s hair. “There there,” she whispers, fingers brushing softly against Tokaku’s forehead. “Everything is fine, see? She just wanted to see us.”

She continues her reassurances and slowly moves to wrap her arms around Tokaku’s waist, preparing for another night of being the big spoon.

Feeling Tokaku’s fingers lacing with her own, she smiles, and kisses the back of the girl’s neck.

Chapter Text

They're woken by the click of a closing door and fading speech.

Tokaku stirs first, raising her arm to rub one of her eyes with the heel of her palm. She lets out a quiet groan, still mostly asleep, and carefully shifts to face Haru, smiling when she lays eyes on the girl.

Her hair is a mess- even more so than usual- soft red locks swept all about her face and splayed across the pillow. She rubs at her eyes with her small, small hands, and Tokaku can’t resist the temptation of pulling one to her lips to kiss Haru’s knuckles.

“Good morning,” she greets, speaking into Haru’s fingers and drawing a giggle from the girl.

With a pleased hum, Haru moves her hand to brush Tokaku’s cheek, cupping it gently as she moves up to kiss her forehead. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm,” is Tokaku’s barely coherent reply, her Saturday-morning mind a little foggier than usual. They’re quiet for another few moments, and just before Tokaku is sure she’ll fall asleep again Haru drops the bomb.

“We should head downstairs,” she yawns and rubs her eyes again, “Isuke is probably waiting.”

It all comes back to her then. The car ride, the knife, Nio’s incessant teasing, Isuke’s father and his ringing laughter. The fact that they’re soon going to be in a house filled with people who’d tried to kill them. Tokaku sits up faster than a falcon diving for prey, hands fisting the sheets and eyes widening.

“Fuck,” is all she says, ever so eloquent.

Haru, who’s already up and on her way to getting dressed, turns back to give her a questioning look before wrestling off her shirt with all the grace of a limping giraffe. And though they’ve seen each other naked many times already, Tokaku turns away so as not to catch an early morning eyeful of Haru’s breasts.

“Tokaku? Are you okay?” the girl asks, voice a little frantic. Tokaku waits for the quiet “I have a shirt now,” before replying.

“Yeah, yeah.” The reality of everything is little tough to swallow this early in the day and a large part to Tokaku just wants to curl up and go back to bed, to pretend she’s back at her apartment and not going to spend the next few days with Isuke Shitdamn Inukai. She rubs her temples and mutters under her breath. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Haru’s back touches hers as she falls onto the bed with a bounce, pulling on her favorite pair of socks- the white ones with stars on the sides. Tokaku takes this as both a call back to reality, and her chance to switch off with the redhead and get dressed herself. She goes as slow as she can.

But she can’t delay the inevitable, and is eventually ready, falling two steps behind Haru as she patters down the hallway in search of the stairs. She almost finds it funny, the strange reversal of roles. She’s so used to being the one in front, hearing Haru’s footsteps behind her and making sure they don’t stop. But now, she trails behind the redhead, almost timid in her demeanor, as if hiding.

Haru stops dead in her tracks as they enter the dining room. Tokaku follows suite, peeking from around her shoulder to see what’s wrong.

“The lovebirds are up, finally,” says Nio with an odd sort of smugness to her voice, but her words go unnoticed as Haru continues to stare at the other two girls sitting at the table, her cheerful mood vanishing in an instant.

Haruki gives them a warm smile, left eye twitching in pain as she strains a bruise on the side of her face. Before Tokaku can even register the other presence, Haru has launched herself into Haruki’s arms, holding tight around her waist and nearly knocking the girl out of her chair.

“It’s good to see you,” Haruki says, returning Haru’s hug with equal strength. Tokaku watches, paralyzed, as Haruki rocks Haru in her arms for a few seconds before the girl pulls away. She doesn’t need to look to know that Haru is crying.

Sumireko watches too, and she doesn’t even have enough time to put down her tea before Haru is latched onto her, tears still spilling down her face.

Tokaku can only catch the words “Hanabusa,” and “Sorry, sorry,” before Haruki pushes out form the table to stand in front of her. She holds her arms out, still smiling, and nods hopefully.

She finds herself in the redhead’s embrace then, and Haruki starts to sway gently, rocking Tokaku from side-to-side, resting her chin atop her head. Tokaku gulps, heart beating up into her throat and some elated feeling bubbling in her chest. She reaches, slowly, to return Haruki’s hug, wrapping her arms around the girl’s back and leaning into her chest, her mind occupied by a single thought. “I’m happy you’re not dead. I’m so happy you’re not dead.”

“You guys are all saps,” Isuke calls as she enters from the kitchen, hands curled around an awful pink mug with the words “Number One Daughter” painted on it.

“Oh,” drawls Nio, giving a sharp flick of her wrist. “You haven’t seen sappy until you’ve seen Tokaku and Haru at home.”

Snapped from her relief, Tokaku pulls away from Haruki’s chest to throw a rather nasty glare Nio’s way. She tries to ignore the sound of Haruki’s laugh and moves to check on Haru.

She’s at least smiling now, though her face is still flushed and Sumireko is catching stray tears with her thumbs. “Hush now,” she says, voice calm and smooth. “It’s alright.”

Haruki slaps a hand onto Tokaku’s shoulder, quickly retracting it when the girl flinches. “Sorry,” she rubs the back of her neck in embarrassment. “But, you should get some breakfast. You guys slept in pretty late.”

A glance at the rather large clock on the wall confirms this, telling Tokaku that she and Haru had managed to sleep until eleven. She stiffens. It’s time for Lucky Charms.

Nio laughs at her sudden hungry look, well accustomed to it’s meaning. “You’d better hope you have the right cereal,” she nods over to Isuke, who gives her a confused look over the brim of her mug. She gets no clarification, but is nearly blind-sided by Tokaku as the girl rushes into the kitchen at the speed of light, getting on her tiptoes to open the top pantry. There, next to an almost dusty box of Raisin Bran, is her prize, her coveted Lucky Charms. She returns to the dining room with box in her arms, earning incredulous stares from Haruki, Isuke, and Hanabusa.

“I’m having these,” she states with an odd sort of conviction. The room is silent, and then Haruki bursts into laughter. Happy, uproarious laughter.

It doesn’t take long for Sumireko to join, giggling softly behind her hand, and Isuke just scoffs and waves her off, rolling her eyes when Tokaku shuffles back into the kitchen to look for a bowl.

Haruki is the first to pass comment on Isuke’s parents.

They’re all in the living room, Sumireko stroking through Haru’s hair as the girl dozes in her lap, while Nio sits on the floor holding onto Haruki’s legs. Isuke lounges in the armchair by the TV, sitting sideways so her legs fold over the arm, and Tokaku sits on Hanabusa’s other side, pushing out thoughts of glass walls and falling chandeliers.

“Is your mom gone or something?” Haruki asks, idly twirling a strand of Nio’s hair between her bandaged fingers.

Isuke’s eyes widen in uncharacteristic confusion, before narrowing again as she smirks her signature smirk. “Mama’s… on a business trip of sorts.”

“Will she back soon?” Nio pipes from her spot on the floor, tilting her head. “You did say she wanted to see us.”

Tokaku grimaces at the reference to her conversation with Isuke in the hall. Of course Nio had heard it. She’s tempted to run back upstairs to grab her knife, but glancing up at Hanabusa and seeing the look of pure concentration on her face as she threads her fingers through Haru’s pigtails is enough to stop her.

“Yeah,” Isuke sighs, stretching out her arms and popping her spine. “Should be back tonight.”

Tokaku wonders if Isuke’s mother will be just as nice as her father, Souji. Despite the strange mention of Isuke’s attempt, he’d been nothing but kind to the girls so far. Earlier in the morning he had gone to the trouble of making them pancakes, topping them with oodles of syrup and whip-cream and nearly bringing Haruki to tears.

Tokaku turns slightly to survey the girl in question, realizing she hadn’t gotten to give her a proper look over after being distracted by their strangely emotional reunion.

She looks both better and worse. She’s no longer so scarily thin, having gained at least some meat on her bones since Myojo. And though that is good news, she is still speckled with various unexplained injuries, such as the bruise on her cheek or the bandages on her fingers. And, if Tokaku looks close, she can see her nose is slightly crooked, hinting at a recent and unchecked break.

Sumireko looks to be faring well. Her face is fuller, rounder, no longer so gaunt and sunken as it had been during school. There’s some slight scarring on her neck which Tokaku can only assume was a gash from the chandelier.

Before her wellness-check can continue, the doorbell rings. Haru stirs and Hanabusa’s hands flinch back to her sides but she smiles down at her anyways. She, Haru, and Tokaku all watch as Nio, scrambles to her feet, followed by Haruki who leaps over the back of the couch, and Isuke follows behind her, all three of them sliding along the hardwood floor and nearly falling over.

Haruki gets to the door first, opening without even waiting for Isuke and greeting whoever is there with another warm grin. Shiena stares back at her, eyes rimmed with raccoon-like dark circles and skin pale in the sunlight.

Nio slides up under Haruki’s arm and mutters “Whoa,” looking Kenmochi up and down. Isuke bumps into Haruki’s back and doesn’t even bother to quiet her voice as she says, “Holy shit, have you even been sleeping?”

Shiena’s response is a proud “Nope,” as she slowly falls forward and into Haruki’s waiting arms. Nio and Isuke can practically feel the redhead shifting into Big Sister Mode, and don’t bother to question her as she orders them to take Shiena’s backpack. She shifts the brunette in her arms, lifting her up off the ground and rushing over to the couch.

“I-Is she okay?” Haru squeaks upon seeing Shiena’s unconscious form. Her and Sumireko shift closer to Tokaku to give Haruki space to lay the girl down.

Isuke and Nio return with her backpack and a blanket, and everyone watches as Haruki tucks her in and leans down to kiss her forehead, lingering for a few moments.

“She doesn’t seem feverish,” she announces upon pulling back, brows furrowed with worry.

Isuke rolls her eyes, leaning over the back of the couch to pluck Shiena’s glasses form her face. “She’s probably just gone and exhausted herself, the idiot. She hadn’t sounded too good when I called her.” Haruki makes some noise of acknowledgement and sweeps Shiena’s bangs from her eyes.

Sumireko giggles again, the sound dissolving into a hum as she brings a hand to her mouth. “I should have recognized you as the motherly type,” she says with a smile, causing Haruki to blush.

Tokaku and Haru both fight back nausea at the memory of Shiena laying lifeless on the dressing room floor, fingers twitching and face rapidly losing color. Sensing the change, Hanabusa pulls Haru back to rest against her, resuming her earlier ministrations and curling an arm around Haru’s shoulders to continue petting her hair. Her other hand inches towards Tokaku’s, being careful not to startle the girl as their fingers touch, and she gently strokes her thumb across her knuckles. Tokaku takes a sharp inhale, but lets Sumireko continue, slowly relaxing despite the subtlety of the action.

The others don’t seem to mind. In fact, Nio just smiles again and Haruki gives an understanding nod before turning back to Kenmochi. Isuke is Isuke, and instead rolls her eyes and proceeds to reclaim her place in the armchair.

When Tokaku comes back to her senses, it’s three in the afternoon and her head is resting against Hanabusa’s shoulder. Haru is still in the girl’s lap, head tucked under her chin and hands loosely gripping the fabric of her shirt. Sumireko is leaning against Tokaku, and is, in turn, resting her head atop the shorter girl’s own.

It’s strangely peaceful, and as much as she’d been dreading meeting the others last night, Tokaku finds she doesn’t entirely mind her current position.

“How much do you wanna bet they’re still asleep?”

Isuke’s voice drifts in from the hall, followed by the sound of Nio Haruki laughing. Their footsteps continue to get closer until Tokaku can clearly hear Nio’s voice as she calls over to them.

“Any of y’all up yet?” she asks, and Hanabusa startles awake, rousing Haru in the process. Shiena makes some tired moan before turning over, but says nothing, presumably still thoroughly unconscious.

Tokaku makes the mistake of turning to look at the other three, and though Nio is still dressed in leggings and long sleeves Haruki and Isuke are both in swimsuits, revealing Haruki’s rather toned arms and Isuke’s impressive abs.

She turns away with a cough, willing herself to tone down the gay at least little bit.

Haru rubs her eyes and gives a small yawn, blinking up at Sumireko in confusion. “Good morning?”

Tokaku doesn’t blame her for being disoriented, after all she’d spent most of her morning crying and Shiena's sudden and shocking arrival had done nothing to help her emotional stability. “Good morning,” she replies, and nods towards the still sleepy Sumireko.

“Good morning,” she answers with a tilt of her head, and Haruki can’t help but laugh.

“It’s quarter after three, idiots,” says Isuke, accenting it with a slap to her forehead.

Before any of the others have really realized what’s happening, Tokaku is up heading back towards the kitchen. She stops to glare at the other three. “You,” she says, pointing to Haruki. She continues, nearly jabbing her finger into Isuke’s chest. “You.” She turns on her heel, already met with a grin. “And especially you,” she grumbles, flicking Nio’s forehead. “None of you saw that.”

She goes off without another word to grab a glass of water, but she can still here Haruki and Nio giggling like third graders behind her.

After fretting over poor Shiena for a few minutes, Souji drifts into the kitchen with the intent to cook the girls some supper, donning his pink and frilly “kiss the cook” apron in the process. Haruki thanks him at least twice before he even starts, and then joins the others back in the living room.

She sinks onto the floor and leans back onto the couch, sitting much the same way Nio had earlier. She turns slightly to check on Shiena once more before turning her attention back to the others, who are apparently in a heated discussion about breakfast cereal.

“Frosted Flakes are clearly the best,” Nio states, crossing her arms in defiance.

“Have you ever had Cinnamon Toast Crunch, you absolute heathen?” responds Isuke with a sneer, getting much too defensive for such a ridiculous topic. Tokaku shakes her head at the both of them.

“No,” she says dismissively, “Lucky Charms all the way.”

Nio snorts and Isuke groans. “I still can’t believe you of all people are into that cavity cultivating crap.”

With a shrug, Tokaku says, “Blame her,” and nods towards Haru, who smiles guiltily and mumbles something about Vanilla Chex.

Sumireko makes a comment about not having tried any of them, which earns an extremely offended gasp from Nio and disbelieving looks from both Isuke and Tokaku.

Before Haruki can drop in her two cents- in agreement with Isuke, of course, she does love the taste of cinnamon- the door opens, and the hall is filled with the sound of clunking boots.

Isuke perks up, and the others all turn towards the porch, expecting her mother to enter. What they get instead, is a blonde man soaked in blood, a gun hanging from his messily tied holster and an expensive looking fur-lined coat in his hands. He hums, wiping some blood from his cheek with a swipe of his thumb. “Pardon the intrusion,” he says, eerily calm.

Before anyone can stop her, Haruki has hopped the couch and looks ready to deck the guy straight in the face, clearly having switched back into her protective Big Sister Mode. She moves to rush him, but he just reaches out and presses two fingers into the base of her neck, catching her with one arm she collapses.

Haru yelps and Tokaku is immediately on her feet, one arm stretched out in front of the redhead as if to shield her. She faintly registers the soft click of Sumireko’s claws being drawn.

The man looks over to them, shifting Haruki’s body slightly. “Isuke,” he calls, nodding slowly. “These must be your assassin friends.”

“Mama I-”

Nio interrupts before the girl can finish, her voice snapping into a high register. “Mama?” she spits, looking between Isuke and the man.

“Well,” Isuke starts,” I was gonna save it as a joke like usual but- Jesus, I should’ve figured Sagae wouldn’t react well to blood.”

“No, no,” says the man as he casts a glance down at the redhead. “I should’ve cleaned up before coming in. My bad.”

Souji comes out from the kitchen then, an empty pan still in his hand and a rather stern frown on his face. “Eisuke, dear, you’d better not be getting blood on the-” He trails off, looking from Nio’s shocked expression, to Tokaku’s defensive stance, to his husband holding a limp Haruki in one arm and his favorite jacket in the other. “… Carpet.”

As if the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, the deafening silence is interrupted by a small “Oh my,” and a sharp whimper from the hallway. All eyes turn to the source of the noise.

Suzu stands in the entryway, one hand over her mouth as she surveys the scene in front of her. Banba cowers behind her, white-knuckling the straps of her bag and staring at Eisuke with wide, fearful eyes.

Isuke groans and drags a hand down her face.

Chapter Text

They now have two unconscious girls on the couch. Though judging by Banba’s paling face and shaking shoulders that count could very well move up to three before dinner is done.

The table is torturously silent. Isuke’s got her head in her hands, rubbing her temples and muttering about “Mama’s stupid habits.” Nio is staring holes into her plate. Haru is at least marginally calmer, though now Tokaku so on edge the sudden buzz of a fly could cause her to cut the table in two. Banba still has a death grip on Suzu’s arm, and the girl gently pats her hands in an attempt to calm her down. Sumireko seems composed enough but she has yet to retract her claws and has entirely forgotten that most people at the table have no idea what they are.

They can all distantly hear Souji scolding Eisuke for coming home without at least changing into something less blood-soaked. Isuke bangs her forehead off the table.

“So,” Nio starts, putting down her fork. “Your Mama is another Papa?”

“Yes,” mutters Isuke.

“And he’s an assassin.”

“Yes.”

“And that business trip was-”
“Him killing someone, yes, is that all?”

Tokaku pushes out from the table, gaining almost everyone’s attention as she does so. She takes a deep breath before sighing heavily. “I have officially resigned to the fact that you guys will always be trying to kill me, so if you don’t mind I think I’m going to go have an anxiety attack in my room. Thank you for the meal.”

With that quiet and surprisingly honest declaration, Tokaku leaves for the stairs. Isuke finally raises her head to stare after her, blinking. “Ah-” Haru squeaks, standing as well, “I’d better make sure she’s okay.” She leaves then too, dashing after Tokaku and nearly bumping into Shiena on her way out.

The brunette is rubbing her forehead with her palm, using her other hand to adjust her glasses. She glances back at Haru, blinks over to Suzu and Banba, and finally settles her gaze on Isuke. “What… happened?” she asks, bushy brows furrowing in utter confusion.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Suzu says with a shrug. “You were already out when I arrived.”

“And Haruki?”
Nio answers this time. “That was Isuke’s dad. One of them, anyway. He knocked her out ‘cause he came in looking like a serial killer and she was gonna clock him.”

“I could die,” Isuke groans, covering her face with her hands. “I could fucking die.”

Before Isuke can sink any further in her chair, Eisuke reenters, dressed now in silky pajama pants and a fuzzy looking bathrobe. He ruffles her hair on his way into the kitchen and calls back over his shoulder. “Sorry about your friend again,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen and emerging with a bottle of wine. On his way back to the stairs, he stops behind Isuke's chair and rests a hand on her head, pulling it back slightly so as to kiss her forehead. “I’m going to go bone your father now, so keep off the third floor, okay?”

Nio chokes and Banba turns bright red, both of them turning away to hide their faces. Isuke looks as if she’s about to implode and yells “Mama!” rather indignantly. Shiena stares with an expression that screams “Let this be a dream.” Suzu whispers something about being lucky Kouko isn’t here and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Hanabusa,” Isuke says through grit teeth, eyeing her claws. “Do me a favor and slit my throat. Please.”

Nio watches as Shiena shakes two of each pill from four different bottles into her hands, meticulously stacking them all into little piles before placing them on the nightstand next to her glasses. She reaches to take one, hesitates, moves her hand to hover over another, and hesitates again.

They’ve all retreated to the safety of their rooms now, though due to a certain someone’s absence Shiena is sharing with Nio. It’s not so bad, really. Nio, as it turns out, is a very private person. She goes to the trouble of walking out to the bathroom every time she needs to get changed, wears only long sleeves and long pants, and tends to be quieter at night, working on her tablet instead bothering Kenmochi. Though Shiena knows ‘working’ is an inaccurate term, as most of the time when she glances over Nio is just playing Piano Tiles or Cut The Rope.

Shiena’s eyes are suddenly met with a pair of cat-like auburn. She hadn’t realized she was staring.

“What are those for?” Nio asks, giving Shiena the perfect excuse to tear her eyes away.

“These are for anxiety,” she states with uncertainty and points to two flat white tablets. She purses her lips in thought before pointing to a pair of trapezoidal green pills. “And these are for sleeping.”

Nio nods, curiosity evident in her eyes, and waits for Shiena to continue, slowly laying her tablet down as she fumbles and misses a black tile.

“Uh, one of them is for my back, I think,” Shiena offers with a non-committal shrug. “Actually, wait-” she moves back to the green and white ones. “I might’ve gotten these mixed up. I think those are the anxiety ones and these are the sleeping ones.”

Nio rolls her eyes. “No wonder you passed out at the door, you don’t even know what pills you’re taking.”

Shiena puffs her cheeks in defense- an awful defense, as it just makes her look like a cute grumpy dog. “Shut up,” she huffs and Nio doesn’t even bother to ask what the fourth set of pills is for, afraid for both the answer or lack thereof.

“I’m gonna go on a whim and say these,” she points to the flat white ones, “are the sleep meds. They look too inconspicuous to be anything else.” She knows this because Ms. Yuri had tried to force-feed them to her one day after nearly a week without sleeping. She keeps this fact to herself though.

The blonde is quiet for a moment as she reflects on the possible responses her next question could get. It’s a little on the harsher side, she’ll admit, but she herself has been viciously repressing fear and doubt for the past few years and is thus a little lacking in that side of the empathy department. “What’s there to be anxious about?” she asks in a yawn, brushing tears from the corners of her eyes.

Shiena doesn’t bristle, or roll her eyes, or get angry, doesn’t do anything that Nio had expected her to, throwing the girl for a loop. Instead, she shrugs weakly, and looks down at her hands. “Kirigaya,” she murmurs. “Haru, Azuma, Namatame.” There’s another name on her lips and Nio watches as she tries to stop herself from saying it. “I don’t want to face them. You know I- I overdosed the night before the play.” Her voice is low with confession as she twists the blankets with her shaking hands. “I took a handful of anxiety meds and Kirigaya’s poison only made it worse but I- I wouldn’t have gone through with it otherwise, right?”

Nio doesn’t know what to say. Does she agree? Does she bring up the fact Shiena never got to ‘go through with it’ in the first place?

“Do you ever get scared?” Shiena asks. Nio swallows.

“Not really,” is what she says. “I’m not allowed,” is what she doesn’t. She feels suddenly stuffy, skin itching underneath her shirt. She fidgets and watches Shiena swallow two pills dry- one white, one green- her mouth pulled into a tight line.

“What does Haru do when Tokaku gets like this?” she thinks, turning to look down at her hands, watching the sleeves bunch up to reveal the first few peaks of red. Frantic, she flicks her wrists, causing the thin fabric to fall back over her hands. Shiena can’t see, she’ll only get worse.

Carefully, she covers the brunette’s hand with hers, holding the girl’s fingers through the floppy ends of her shirtsleeves.

“Sorry I asked,” she tries, giving an almost uncertain grin to make up for it.

“Y’all have slept long enough,” Isuke yells as she marches through the hall, banging on people’s doors. It’s nearly ten thirty and she needs to erase last night’s events from everyone’s memory with a good old-fashioned day at the beach. This is what she invited them here for, after all.

Chitaru follows behind her with Hitsugi at her side, their hands linked as always. The redhead still seems a bit ill, skin a little pale and voice a little raspy, but she’d insisted she was well enough to come over. Hitsugi’s small face has been permanently affixed with a look of guilt, and Isuke notes the distinct lack of her teddy bear with some interest. She too is somewhat weak, unable to do much physical activity due to the injury she’d received as Juliet, but she seems to be the healthier of to two.

Someone finally emerges from their room, the three girls all turning towards the now open door to see which lucky girl is the first to be conscious and receive Isuke’s praise.

Haruki stands by her and Sumierko’s door, one eye open as she runs a hand through her bangs with a grimace. She looks at Chitaru, and then down at Hitsugi, and then back up to Isuke, and says, “I’m like- alive, right?”

Chitaru blinks in confusion. “Is she alright?” she asks, squeezing Hitsugi’s hand. Isuke rolls her eyes so hard Chitaru can practically feel them straining.

“You guys- you missed a lot. She’ll be fine.”

“A-are you sure,” Hitsugi asks, watching as Haruki turns back to yell out for Hanabusa. “She looks a little…”

Haruki runs over to the door across from hers, knocking twice before opening it and calling out for Shiena.

“Out of it,” she decides, and Chitaru nods in agreement.

Isuke’s waves off their concerns and turns to go wake Banba and Suzu. “Whatever. Could one of you get Haru and Tokaku? Thanks.”

The two look at each other for a moment while Isuke yells “Up and at ‘em,” behind them. With a shrug and a sigh, Chitaru moves to lead Hitsugi over to the room next to Haruki’s, knocking quietly and clearing her throat to speak.

“It’s- uh, morning,” she tries.

“No no no,” pipes a voice from behind them, and all four-foot-nine of Nio pushes past Chitaru to stand in front of the door. “This is how you wake these two.” There’s a beat, and then she knocks three times, takes a deep breath, and yells, “Hey Tokaku! They’re eating all the lucky charms.”

Chitaru almost laughs at the absurdity of idea, the image of Tokaku Azuma of all people eating such an iconic children’s cereal is hilarious. She’s thoroughly surprised when the blue-haired girl emerges looking ready to kill, clad in a pair of watermelon-patterned boxers and an oversized t-shirt. “Clear a path,” she says, completely oblivious to Chitaru and Hitsugi’s presence.

The redhead peaks back into the girl’s room and spots Haru sitting up in bed looking about as confused as Chitaru feels. Then, without warning, Haru perks up, a smile coming to her face before she all but throws herself across the room and into Chitaru’s arms, hugging her tightly.

“Chitaru, Chitaru,” she says, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” She pulls back and turns to Hitsugi, leaning down to hug her too, though a little more gently than she had her taller companion. “I’m glad you’re okay, too,” she says, and before either girl can really react Haru is off chasing after Tokaku, who’s in the process of giving Nio an awfully painful looking noogie.

“I, uh,” stammers a voice from behind them, and Chitaru turns to face a nervous looking Shiena. Hitsugi moves to hide behind the redhead’s back, peering up at her from behind Chitaru’s arm.

“Kenmochi,” Chitaru greets with a nod.

“I’m- It’s good to see you again,” Shiena says, shoulders tense. Quietly, she adds, “Both of you.”

The sun is high in the sky, and Tokaku’s eyes are shining with pure, unadulterated competitiveness. Haruki matches her stare with the most confident of grins, widening her stance in preparation.

Suzu raises her arm, laughing as the girls both flinch forwards. “Ready?” she calls, and after receiving a nod from both of them she swings her arm down and yells “Go!”

The two are off like shots and Suzu turns back to the others, having never had any real intention to monitor the girls’ race. They’re capable kids and it’s much more amusing to watch them argue over who won and start another race. Besides, she knows Banba and Haru are watching closely, entirely not subtle in their gawking. She doesn’t blame them. They’re all half sure that Tokaku and Haru are dating, and Haruki’s sunshine smile and admittedly gorgeous biceps bring in all manner of looks.

Shaking thoughts of Sagae’s muscles out of her head, Suzu reclaims her seat next to Sumireko and Nio, who both seem keen on staying out of the water.

Sumireko’s reason is obvious. Her tank top reveals the areas where skin fades to metal and as a result her usual calm confidence fades to mild insecurity. Nio gives her a thumbs-up whenever their eyes meet, some silent sort of affirmation that everything is okay.

Speaking of Nio, the rest of the girls are still clueless as to why she avoids the water, not to mention her awful long sleeved dress shirt and stuffy looking jeans. Shiena gives her side-glances from time to time, either worried or curious or perhaps a bit of both.

Out of the way of the Sagae-Azuma Olympics, Chitaru holds Hitsugi’s hands and helps guides her around the water as- even without her childlike persona- Hitsugi cannot swim. On occasion the others can hear her cough and splutter and Chitaru telling her to “Take it easy, your chest hasn’t healed yet.” In turn, when Chitaru’s breathing devolves into a wheeze Hitsugi drags them both back onto shore and softly scolds the girl for pushing herself.

Isuke, for all her yelling about spending time at the beach, has dozed off with her head in Nio’s lap, and the blonde absentmindedly pets her hair as she carries on her conversation with Hanabusa.

Suzu is having a rather good time herself, simply enjoying the sun and breeze, thankful that Isuke had managed to get in contact with her. She had planned to disappear, but through some sheer force of will Isuke had managed to reach her- or at least that’s how she likes to look at it. She’ll never admit that she had refused to get rid of her phone, too attached to the numbers it contained and the charm still dangling from its side.

She’s brought out of her mind by the telltale squeak of Banba being touched unexpectedly, and looks up to see Haru with the silver-haired girl in a vice-like hug, a bright smile on her face. Sumireko smiles too, humming happily as she watches the girls. Nio looks over at them too, and Suzu says “Ah, youth,” in a sigh meant only for herself.

“You talk like an old man,” Nio snorts, twirling one of Isuke’s curls in her fingers.

Suzu shrugs and leans back on her hands. “I am an old man,” she laughs airily.

Nio’s face suddenly falls. Suzu stops to look at her, nudging Sumireko, who bumps shoulders with the blonde to catch her attention.

“Haruki, Chitaru, Kirigaya, and Shiena don’t know about your syndrome, do they?” she asks as Isuke stirs beneath her.

“No, I suppose they don’t,” Suzu responds carefully, curious as to where the conversation is going.

“Are you gonna tell them?”

Truthfully she hadn’t even considered it, hadn’t quite registered that some of the girls didn’t know her secret. And hell, should she tell them? The others all know, they’ve all heard her little sob story laced with fears of abandonment, why shouldn’t the other four be let in?

“Hanabusa’s shown everyone her arms, yeah?”

Sumireko sighs between them. “I wouldn’t say I showed them,” she says. A frown etches onto her pretty face. “I just… didn’t hide them.”

Nio hums in response as if thinking over the possibility, and Suzu has to catch herself before she assumes Hashiri has nothing to hide. They’ve all got something, even those who were clean or nearly so beforehand. Haruki has yet to divulge the origin of her bruises, and Sumireko’s artificial limbs had been as much of a surprise to her as they had the others. Banba hasn’t entirely explained the absence of her nighttime alter, almost refusing to speak a word about Shin’ya.

Almost as quickly as she brought it up, Nio drops to subject, reaching up to undo the collar button of her shirt before returning to play with Isuke’s hair.

Shiena sips at her coffee- decaf by order of Isuke- and listens as Haru frets over the shivering Haruki and Tokaku, both of whom had spent much too long in the water and were now wrapped up in blankets on the couch. Beside her, Nio taps away at her tablet, playing another round of Piano Tiles.

Isuke comes in from the kitchen with a yawn, drinking something that clearly isn’t coffee from her Number One Daughter mug. Nio curses as she misses a tile but quickly gains a smug smile when she spots Isuke.

“Sleep well?” she chuckles, wiggling her eyebrows. Isuke practically growls her response, words laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, excellent,” she drawls with a roll of her eyes. “How about you?”

Nio closes her eyes and lets out some mix of a laugh and a pleased hum, the sound almost drawing a laugh out of Shiena. “I actually slept pretty well,” says the blonde with a tone of almost timid sincerity. “Got a full two hours, haven’t slept that long in weeks.”

Shiena nearly does a spit take, forcing herself to swallow her mouthful of coffee and thumping a fist against her chest. Isuke’s stare is a solid mix between concerned and incredulous, and she slowly backtracks into the kitchen, laying her mug on the counter as she does.

“T-Two hours?” Shiena coughs. Nio blinks and raises her eyebrows in confusion.

“Yeah?” she shrugs. “What’s wrong with two hours? It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Shiena stammers incoherently for a few moments before Isuke comes back in, a glass and a bottle in her hands. “She thinks two hours is a lot,” the brunette tells her with a shake of her head.

“I’m right here,” Nio huffs, crossing her arms and pouting like a little kid. “Two hours is so a lot. Meanies.”

Her words go ignored as Shiena watches Isuke tear open a bottle of ZzzQuil, taking a quick glance at the dosages on the back before pouring some out into the glass. “Kenmochi,” she says gravely. “Hold her down.”

Not wanting to incur the wrath of this scary side of Isuke, Shiena does as she’s told, standing up and reaching out to hold Nio’s shoulders against her sides. The blonde struggles in her grip, looking between her and the slowly approaching Isuke, her eyes locked on the glass filled with thick purple liquid.

“What is that,” she asks, voice low. “That’s poison right, that has to be poison- Kirigaya!”

Nio’s next cry for help is cut short as Isuke pushes the glass to her lips, tipping it back and pouring the medicine down Nio’s throat. The blonde coughs but swallows the syrup, spluttering wildly. Hitsugi leans around the corner and surveys the scene for a moment before deciding she’s not going to bother, instead skipping back to living room to sit with Haruki on the couch.

“Nighty night Nio,” says Isuke, flicking the girl’s forehead and then stepping back to grab her drink. There’s a stretch of silence before Nio grins again and shouts after her.

“Haha! Take that, Inukai! Whatever it is you just force fed me isn’t working!”

Isuke ignores her. “Take her back up to your room, Kenmochi.”

Shiena, who still has a grip on Nio’s shoulders, once again does as she’s told and hauls Nio up with her, dragging the girl towards the stairs.

She can tell exactly when the medicine hits her, as the proud grin falls from her face and she murmurs a quiet “Whoa,” under her breath. Her movements are already slowing when they pass the others in the living room, earning many weird looks and a concerned head tilt from Haruki. Shiena stops to let Nio slump against her before mouthing, “It’s for her own good.”

“Kenmochi,” Nio groans against her shoulder, stretching out the ‘i’ and earning laughs from Haru and Sumireko. “Walking’s hard. My eyes are warm.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re tired,” Shiena says, answering in a grumble. She can barely believe herself as she sighs and proceeds to lift Nio into her arms, wrapping the girl’s legs around her waist and slipping her arms underneath the blonde’s thighs. Starting their trek up the stairs, Nio settles back into her shoulder, arms hanging loosely around the brunette’s neck as she giggles happily. “Mm yay,” she mumbles, her voice muffled in Shiena’s shoulder. “Kenmochi is soft.”

Shiena curses Isuke for bringing this awful adorable side of Nio into her life and continues down the hallway to their room. After laying the incredibly droopy Nio on the bed she backtracks to close the door and gives the girl a once over.

“Hold on,” she says, and Nio struggles to open her eyes. “You’re gonna overheat in that shirt.”

Shiena moves to help the blonde sit up, fingers already working with the top buttons of the shirt. Nio pushes weakly at her arms, moaning. “Nooo,” she whines, “don’t wanna.”

“You’re gonna get heatstroke, idiot,” huffs Shiena, though she stops her movements to see if Nio is really that adamant about keeping it on.

“Fine, but don’be scared.” Nio’s words are slurred now, and she lets her hands drop back to her sides so Shiena can continue.

“What’s there to be scared about?”

Her answer is the pair of lines engraved into Nio’s shoulders, the twin birds on her chest, the snaking curves of red curling all about her body.

Acting on impulse, Shiena reaches out to trace one of the lines, ghosting her fingers down across Nio’s shoulder and one of her arms, drawing forth a shiver from the girl.

She comes back to her senses with a squeak, pushing Nio back down onto the bed and pulling the covers up over her. Before she can make her rushed exit, Nio rolls over and says, “Pretty?”

“…Yeah,” Shiena breathes, “yeah. They’re pretty.”

Chapter Text

Mahiru isn’t used to the night.

She’s not used to the dark, not used to letting her battered body rest with the stars. Not used to the dreams. Shin’ya would always block them out, or simply refuse to go to sleep, or really anything to keep Mahiru from seeing. But Shin’ya is gone now and Mahiru can see everything.

She tiptoes down the stairs with a dry throat and the taste of blood in her mouth, scar pulsing with phantom pain. She’d dreamt about the man again, the one with blonde hair and scratchy stubble and rough hands. Rough, rough hands. He tasted bleak and unending and his eyes were cloudy with ice and hunger. She doesn’t like dreaming of him.

She continues her mission for a glass of water, careful not to make too much noise. Not to wake up Uncle with her crying. Not to set off the alarm. Not to get beaten and twisted and have her nose bled dry. Not to catch the late night photographers with their cheers and sneers and awful flashes.

“Hm, we match,” says a distinctly male voice form behind her, and Mahiru startles so violently that she hears her shoulders crack. She can’t stop the muffled noise of fright she makes as she listens to her pounding heart, the blood rushing in her ears, the click-click-snap of camera shutters.

When she cranes her neck to see who she’s woken, she sees Eisuke, clad in blue sheep-themed pajamas much the same as Mahiru’s own. The thought is enough to distract her a few seconds and she barely notices him stepping closer. “Can’t sleep?” he asks, innocent enough. But Mahiru had seen him in his blood soaked clothes, she knows he can hurt her, knows he can kill. His hair shines honey-blonde in the moonlight, bangs falling over his eyes as he tilts his head and Mahiru has to cover her mouth to keep from dry heaving.

She wishes in Shin’ya were here, wishes she could fall back into blissful unawareness and let her handle everything like always, let her wrap their hands around Eisuke’s pretty white neck and let him know they can kill too, they can hurt people with rough hands.

Her hands are shaking. They always did. She always did. She shook like a leaf while the storm raged above her, pinning her to the branch and tearing her apart all at the same time. And the cameras, god the cameras like storm chasers watching her every move and capturing it all, saving it to show those sick enough to love the wind and rain.

Eisuke takes another step forward, eyebrows knit together with concern, and Mahiru starts raining, tears spilling down her face with a frantic ferocity.

Slowly, giving her time to watch him, Eisuke reaches out for her shoulder. She flinches again and jerks her arm away like his fingertips will burn, some strangled noise leaving her throat. “No,” she cries in a small, strained voice. “D-don’t, please, don’t- I d-d-didn’t mean to w-w-wake you.” She reaches to claw at her face, scratching hard and catching tears because she wants the rain to stop. Eisuke’s fingers twitch. Mahiru’s legs give out.

She’s sure the thump wakes someone else; sure she’s going to get in more trouble and have her mouth bled as well as her nose. Maybe if she’s lucky they’ll just pull another tooth and leave her. She hears another set of footsteps and cries out again.

Eisuke sounds almost far away when he speaks, even though he’s kneeling right in front of her with tense shoulders and a worried frown. “Isuke,” he calls out, spotting his daughter from the corner of his vision. “Isuke, I need help.”

Isuke grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and padding over to her father while mumbling some incoherent complaint. The words die off when she sees Mahiru, trembling and crying and scratching at her face like her skin itches to come off. “Fuck,” whispers Isuke. “Fuck, shit, fuck.”

She kneels down too, looking to her father for some further explanation or sign of what to do. “She won’t let me touch her,” he says, “she’s afraid of me. You try, she knows you, she might not mind as much.”

Isuke swallows, thinking back to when she had blinded Shin’ya with the projector light- taking complete advantage of a weakness she’d mentioned in confidentiality- but reaches for one of Mahiru’s wrists. The girl whimpers sharply, shaking her head and saying “D-don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.”

“Hey,” Isuke says, trying for soft and gentle but coming out a little more annoyed and desperate. “It’s Isuke. It’s just me. Chill.”

She’s never been good at this.

“Try her name,” prompts Eisuke as he watches his daughter flounder. “It always worked with you.”

The younger Inukai nods and takes the girl’s other wrist to prevent her from causing any serious injury to her face. “Mahiru.”

She gasps.

They’d never called her Mahiru. Always ‘Banba-chan, Banba-chan.’ So she tries to breathe, because now she knows that it isn’t the blonde man coming to make her bleed.

“Mahiru.”

She’s in Isuke’s kitchen. There are no cameras.

“Mahiru, hey, you’re okay.”

The hands on her wrists are soft. Warm. They don’t belong to her uncle or any of his friends.

Eisuke finally tries again, seeing her slowly relax into Isuke’s grip. He takes a glance at the ram on her shirt. “Little sheep,” he says, “can you hear me?”

Mahiru blinks back to reality, breath hitching as she’s greeted with two pairs of worried eyes, two confused frowns, and two concerned Inukais.

“I think that worked,” Isuke mumbles with a glance towards her father, who visibly relaxes with relief. Mahiru thinks she hears something along the lines of ‘let me try,’ before Isuke reaches to haphazardly comb through Mahiru’s bangs with her fingers. “You good now, little sheep?”

She likes that name. And she likes the way Eisuke’s hand feels when he carefully reaches out to cup her cheek and swipe away her fresh tears with his thumb.

She wakes up on the couch with a blanket over her legs and a rather large headache. She hears the others whispering to each other, and when Haruki chuckles a little too loud she’s shushed by at least three different people.

Mahiru opens her eyes, blinking rapidly to get rid of the blur in her vision. She’s met with a few waves, a quiet “Hello,” from Hitsugi, and a questioning smile from Sumireko.

Haruki speaks first, voice full of awe. “I can’t believe you got to cuddle with Isuke,” she says, nodding in approval.

Normally, Mahiru would think that ‘cuddle’ and ‘Isuke’ should not be in the same sentence, but right now her mind is occupied with the fact that she is apparently the one doing the cuddling. She squirms a little, leans back against a warm body and feels an arm shift over her side.

Sweet titty fuck, she’s cuddling with Isuke.

Her face explodes with color and heat, turning at least four shades of red as she stammers quietly, bringing her hands up to her face. When, how, why-

Isuke snores behind her and nuzzles into Mahiru’s hair.

“H-Help.”

Suzu laughs. “I take it you don’t remember why,” she says, giggling when Banba shakes her head no.

Hitsugi suddenly smiles, a slow but terrifying grin spreading across her face- rather like The Grinch, if Banba were to make a comparison. “We could always just ask,” she says, grinning wider still. She slides over to the couch and reaches to grab Isuke’s shoulder, ignoring Banba as she frantically shakes her head.

“A-At least let me get up,” she pleads. But Hitsugi is already shaking Isuke and calling her name. Isuke swats her hand away, groaning. Banba starts to pray.

“What the shit do you want,” the girl moans dramatically, shifting up on her elbow to see who woke her. Her eyes fall from the terrified Banba, to the still giggling Suzu, to Haruki- who’s filming the whole thing on her phone with the most shit eating grin.

Isuke stiffens and Banba accepts her fate. She’s dead. She’s so dead. She’s going to pass away of a heart attack on the Inukai’s living room couch and they’ll bury her out on the beach and leave little martini umbrellas at her grave instead of flowers.

“You have two minutes to run,” Isuke grits. Mahiru can feel her curling her hands into fists. “Get going.”

Haruki is the first to go, hurdling the couch again and rushing up the stairs, followed by Hitsugi who scrambles away and dives under the table. Sumireko and Suzu both stand walk calmly into the kitchen, idly chatting as if Isuke weren’t about to murder them all in early-morning cold blood.

Mahiru gulps, apologizes in a squeak, and rolls off the couch. She’s still tangled in the blankets and unable to get to her feet since her legs are all wrapped up, which only causes her to worry more. “S-Sorry,” she says again, trying desperately to shuffle away from Isuke’s oncoming wrath. “A-About last n-n-night, a-and Haruki, and, uh-uhm--”

To her surprise however, Isuke forces herself to take a deep breath and reaches down to ruffle Mahiru’s bangs. “Nah,” she says, shrugging. “You’re chill.”

Judging by the fact that Isuke leaves her then, in favor of chasing Haruki, Banba assumes that ‘chill’ means something good and lets out a sigh of relief. She hears Hitsugi giggle, and turns to find the girl watching her with the smuggest of looks. She’s got her mouth covered by one of her long sleeves- she’s probably wearing one of Chitaru’s shirts- but Banba can still see her smile peeking out from behind her hand.

What a morning.

Chasing Haruki had quickly spiraled into a full-scale game of hide and seek, which Isuke honestly would have been fine with had her house not been so ridiculously large. Not to mention that, with the exception of Haru, they’re all fucking assassins who have been training most of their lives to be stealthy and undetectable. She’s already accepted that she’s never going to find Azuma or Nio, as even in a house full of trained killers those two still manage to be special cases.

So crossing those two, as well as Suzu, Sumireko, and Banba off her list, she only needed to find four people. Excellent. The perfect way to start the day.

“Sagae, I’m going to kill you,” she grits, following her declaration of murderous intent with a harsh growl of frustration.

Suddenly, from just around the corner, she hears some not-so-subtle whispering. “I think that was her,” the voice says, a worried edge to it.

Chitaru’s unmistakable low purr of a voice follows soon after and Isuke has to shake the gay thoughts from her head. “Yeah, I think you’re right. We should try heading back that way.”

“Back what way?” Isuke calls out with a grin, unable to resist scaring Chitaru and whoever she’s with. There’s a yelp, and then a quiet “Fuck, we’re dead,” and then Chitaru runs past with Shiena in her arms, the brunette clinging to the redhead’s pajama shirt and muttering “Quick, faster,” under her breath.

“What is this,” Isuke groans, “Scooby-Doo?”

They whiz past her like a whirlwind, but she turns on her heel and jogs after them, intent on catching at least one of them before she starts hunting for someone else.

Shiena looks back over Namatame’s shoulder and yelps again. “Fuck she’s chasing us. We’re dead, Chitaru we’re so dead.” She continues her rambling while Namatame rushes them down the expansive hallway like they’re running from death itself- which isn’t too far from reality, as Isuke’s hair is a Medusa-like mess and she has to yet to cover her under eye bags with concealer. Isuke picks up her pace. Shiena cries out again and tightens her grip around Chitaru’s neck.

“Listen,” Isuke growls as they turn a corner, all three of them skidding over to the left due to the sharpness of the turn. “This’ll be easier for all of us if you just stopped running.” She makes a grab for the back of Chitaru’s shirt and misses by a hair. “Someone’s gotta take the fucking fall. Someone’s gotta be the first to go.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re actually going to kill us,” Chitaru gulps as she narrowly dodges Isuke’s hands.

“If you keep this shit up I just might!”

Finally, finally, she gets a fistful of Chitaru’s t-shirt and hauls the redhead back towards her, sending her off balance and causing her to loosen her grip on Shiena’s, who slips and drags all three of them to the floor in a heap of tired lesbians.

“Kenmochi,” Chitaru croaks as Isuke wraps both her arms around her waist to keep her in place. “You have to go on without me.”

Poor Shiena’s glasses now sit lopsided on her face, but instead of moving to fix them she reaches for Chitaru’s hand. “I can’t leave you! Kirigaya would kill me.”

“Never mind you,” Isuke scoffs and forcibly drags Chitaru’s struggling form backwards, pulling her and Shiena’s hands apart. “She’s gonna eviscerate me.”

Apparently intent on making what was supposed to be a game of hide and go seek tag as dramatic as possible, Chitaru uses the last of her energy to propel herself forward and take both of Shiena’s hands with her own. “Don’t worry about me or Hitsugi, just run!” she says, nodding frantically.

Isuke can’t tell if it’s the sheer ridiculousness of their situation, or Shiena’s shit state of health, but she sees literal tears in the girl’s eyes as she stands and continues running down the hallway, looking back to Chitaru and Isuke before turning another corner.

With Shiena safely evacuated, Chitaru lets Isuke pull her back up into a sitting position, nearly in the girl’s lap due to their close proximity.

“Now,” Isuke huffs dangerously, hands curling around Namatame’s shirt collar. “Where in the fresh fuck is Sagae.”

Before Chitaru can even bring her hands up to shield her face, Eisuke calls up the stairs. “Isukeeee,” he says, stretching out the e on the end of his daughter’s name and drawing a laugh from her captive. Though his next words strike a chord of seriousness. “One of your friends is down here bleeding.”

Isuke barely has time to react to her father’s words before Chitaru is up and rushing towards the stairs, wheezing due to the exertion of all this running. Isuke quickly gets up to follow, wondering who in sweet hell is bleeding and what had they done.

Maybe it was Haruki just being an idiot again, or maybe someone had startled Banba while she was holding a knife? Or maybe Sumireko’s calm exterior had finally snapped and she’d scratched someone with those freaky metal claws of hers- not that Isuke had a bet up with Nio for when this would occur or anything.

Or maybe- Chitaru flinches as her and Isuke finally make it down the stairs and lay eyes on the friend Eisuke had been talking about- it’s one Kouko Kaminaga with broken glasses, a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and a black eye and good god what the hell happened to her. Aside from facial injuries, there’s blood oozing from between her fingers where’s clutching her shoulder. There are also a pair hand-shaped bruises on her neck, the skin an ugly gradient of purples and grays.

Hitsugi has come out from her hiding place beneath the table, curling by Chitaru’s side and peering up at Kouko worriedly.

“Hospital,” Chitaru offers, at a loss for words. Kouko’s eyes widen with fear.

“No hospital,” she says. “I can’t go back out there.”