Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A different sort of click than the incessant noise of her keyboard notifies Shiena that there’s something wrong. With a sigh, she plucks her earphones from her ears, and blinks in order to adjust her eyes to the darkness of her apartment before turning to look for the source of the noise.

Otoya lays crumpled on the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates but stare unblinking and blank. The noise, as expected, is coming from her. Her jaw clicks and clacks as it dislodges and grinds her teeth together, and when Shiena closes her eyes again to listen further she can hear a soft sort of growl emanating from the back of the girl’s dry throat.

“Are you hungry?”

Otoya shifts, raising her back just slightly off the floor and forcing a louder growl from her throat in answer. A yes.

Shiena stands, takes a moment to stretch, and then pads over to the girl. She kneels beside her and slowly, so slowly, reaches out to slip the mask from Otoya’s face. It’s a simple thing, a gridded metal circle only big enough to cover her mouth, kept in place by two leather straps that loop around the back of her head . Otoya hates it, but there’s not much Shiena can do.

Free of her restraints, Otoya suddenly moves to take one of Shiena’s fingers in her mouth. Shiena doesn’t react at first, she just watches Otoya suck on her index finger with an only mildly apprehensive gaze, as if waiting for something. Otoya starts to nibble, her eyes falling shut before she gives in to instinct and bites down.

Shiena’s reaction is immediate. She slaps her hand to Otoya’s forehead, pushing her head back down onto the floor and away from her fingers, and then wipes her wet hand on her jeans. “Hey,” she says, voice stern, “watch it.” She stands while Otoya tries to swipe at her arm, her growls becoming almost desperate.

Lying like that, in those clothes, with her hair all done up, Otoya looks an awful lot like she did at her funeral. Her skin is a little paler now, and her pupils have dilated and decayed to the point of invisibility, but she’s making Shiena feel like it’s June all over again. All she’s missing are the flowers.

“I’ll make you some tea,” Shiena relents and turns to shuffle over to their kitchenette. “Sit up.”

Shiena can hear Otoya grunting, can hear the sound of her nails on the hardwood floor as she pulls herself up lean against their coffee table. But she doesn’t look. She doesn’t want to look anymore. Instead, she focuses on washing her hands; thoroughly inspecting her finger to make sure Otoya hadn’t done any serious injury.

“No blood,” she calls back. “You’re lucky.”

She doesn’t get a response.

Guilt thrums in her chest. She grabs a packet of cookies on her way back out. Otoya is resting her head on her arms, neck craning at an unnatural angle that looks entirely too uncomfortable, but a quick glance at the scarring on Otoya’s neck reminds Shiena that she is unnatural.

Otoya’s inhuman nature comes out full force when eating. Shiena assumes it’s because her muscle memory is fading, that she can’t remember how to eat what anymore. She almost want to laugh watching Otoya crack and crumble her cookies like she were a child, getting crumbs all over herself and the table and smearing chocolate on her face. The relentless clicking of her jaw begins to fade as she devours more of the cookies, and Shiena thinks she might actually be able to get back to work after they’re done.

She glances again at the scars on Otoya’s neck and sighs once more before speaking. “You still don’t wanna talk, huh?”

Otoya answers by spilling her entire cup of tea all down the front of her shirt.

Shiena curses and jumps to her feet, mugs and plates clattering against the table as she rushes to Otoya. “Hey, hey,” she says, close to growling herself. She frantically rubs her shirtsleeve against the growing stain, trying to mop up as much tea as she can, momentarily forgetting that there’s no way Otoya could possibly feel the burn from the hot liquid.

“You’re so sloppy, Takechi,” Shiena huffs again, pushing Otoya back and haphazardly hauling the girl’s shirt over her head. She’s momentarily distracted by more scarring and some new discoloration on Otoya’s chest, as well as the fact that she’d neglected to put on a bra that morning. Exasperated by the entire evening, Shiena removes her own shirt and all but drops it over Takechi’s head.

“Put this on, idiot.”

“Ah,” Otoya replies, voice scratchy and rasping. “Ah.”

Shiena drops the shirt, eyes wide. “You spoke,” she murmurs, and Otoya nods with such fervor that Shiena can hear her neck cracking.

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Otoya seems to have recovered from her incident with the tea come morning, but Shiena is still reeling from the fact she’d tried to speak. She’s been taking care of Otoya for a little over a week now, keeping her safe and hidden in their apartment, swearing all those she’d told to complete secrecy. And over these ten days, these ten slow, torturous days, Otoya hasn’t spoken a word outside of her gurgles and grumbles of hunger. Shiena’s tried everything she can think of, but it’s a spilled cup of fucking tea that finally gets her to talk.

It’s beyond frustrating, and Shiena’s beginning to feel like she might cry, or punch something, or maybe both. She stares holes into the back of Otoya’s head from her place on the couch, eyes burning with tears and hands entirely still above her keyboard. She switches between this intense anger and hollowing sadness for a moment more before the sound of Otoya’s skirt swishing back and forth brings her back to reality.

She’s reading one of Shiena’s old science textbooks, kicking her legs happily as if it were her favorite children’s book. She still has her mask, but Shiena can tell that she’s smiling. The sight throws nostalgia in with her hogwash of other emotions, and before she knows it she’s on her feet.

“Good book?” she asks, soft voice betraying her instability. She settles herself behind Otoya as the girl nods, draping her arms over her shoulders as if asking for a hug. Anger takes over. She snatches the book from Otoya’s hands.

There’s a single beat of silence before Otoya has turned around and tackled her, swiping madly for the book, but Shiena just holds it further away. “How about now?” she asks, voice breaking. “Do you remember me now?”

Otoya stops moving for a moment and Shiena’s anger disappears entirely when she hears the low whine coming from her throat. She deflates then, entire body going limp as the realization of what she’s doing hits her full force.

With a defeated sigh, she relents and hands Otoya her book. “You’re right,” she murmurs, “I’m being a bully.”

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, Shiena sprawled across the floor and Takechi sprawled across her, but Shiena finally comes back to her senses with the realization that Otoya smells awful.

Realistically, she hadn’t expected a corpse to smell nice, but this was a different sort of smell. With her awful habits, Shiena can recognize the scent of unwashed hair easily. “Have you been forgetting to shower?” She wrinkles her nose, unable to help the little hint of disgust that seeps into her voice. She knew Otoya didn’t have most of her memories anymore but shit, she didn’t think it was this bad.

She nudges Otoya off of her, rolling up onto her knees and pushing herself up before offering Otoya her hand to help her to her feet, pulling her phone from her pocket with the other. With Otoya standing, she retracts her hand and misses the girl’s frown in order to pull up google, which, for some strange reason, actually has the information she needs on how to wash a zombie. The wonders of the internet.

“C’mon,” she says, taking a moment to try and reign her emotions in before continuing. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

For all her other lost memories, Otoya apparently remembers how to strip, something Shiena is both grateful for and exasperated by. If she were to be honest, it makes her smile, because it’s just so Otoya.

She runs her hands through the girl’s tangled black tresses, noting the dryness with a roll of her eyes. This too, is very Otoya. The thought draws another smile, a look caught between lovesick and nostalgic. In her distraction, she doesn’t notice that she has the showerhead pointed directly at herself, and blows a stream of scalding hot water all over her face.

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” she splutters, fumbling with the water dial. “Damn. Fuck.” If she didn’t know any better, she’d say Otoya was laughing. With another grumbled curse, Shiena removes her now fogging and terribly skewed glasses. “Laugh all you want,” she says despite herself, reaching up to slip Otoya’s mask from her face. Otoya turns to grin at her then, and as the metal half of the mask clinks against the bathroom floor Shiena swears her heart stops.

The whole process is easier than it seems. You just have to be a little gentler, have the water a little hotter, try not to get soap in any still open wounds. Shiena finds herself humming as she works a second layer of shampoo into Takechi’s long hair, catching a glimpse of her peaceful face and smiling again because she looks as if she’s about to fall asleep. Cute.

“I’m gonna rinse it out now,” she warns, “tap me if it hurts.” Otoya, of course, can’t fully feel the heat of the water, and just nods. She starts kicking her legs again when Shiena combs her fingers through her hair.

Shiena marvels at how full of energy Takechi is despite being a literal corpse. She herself is completely rundown from her earlier emotional rollercoaster. If she weren’t so focused on Otoya’s hair she’s sure that she’d fall asleep right here.

When it’s finally clean Shiena can’t help but sigh because finally, finally, she can get some sleep. But, as she towels off Takechi’s freshly cleaned mane, the girl startles her back into wakefulness.

“A-ah,” she squeaks, smiling broadly. Shiena gulps.

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She’s nodding off and nauseous but if she falls asleep now Otoya’s just going to get herself into trouble.

They’re sitting side-by-side waiting for Takechi’s usual uniform to come out of the drier, Shiena absentmindedly clicking at a game on her phone while Otoya watches the drier spin. Her normally blank eyes are so full of awe at the sight that Shiena has trouble keeping herself from laughing, instead muttering, “You’re ridiculous,” under her breath.

It’s been quite possibly the longest day she’s had since the funeral. So many ups and downs, so many shocks to her system, that she’s honestly surprised her body hasn’t shut itself down and left her unconscious on the living room floor yet. Her headache suggests she might be heading there though.

“Alright,” she huffs, forcing herself to stand. Otoya doesn’t even look at her. “We’re getting ready for bed.”

For once glad that Otoya is paying no attention to her, Shiena grabs the girl’s mask and takes a step towards her, praying that she’ll continue to be too wrapped up in whatever she’s thinking about to notice the mask until it’s too late. But of course, what would Shiena’s life be without constant bad luck?

“Hey, now,” she grumbles as Otoya scoots away from her. The girl backs herself up against the wall and shakes her head so vigorously that the exhausted part of Shiena’s brain wonders if her head might come undone. “Takechi, please.” She makes a grab for Otoya’s arm, but she again proves Shiena’s assumptions about corpses incredibly wrong as she’s fast enough to get away.

And to run.

They chase each other in circles for a bit, the room filled with Shiena’s cursing and pleading, before Takechi bolts for the door and disappears. Shiena finds herself at a loss, smacking a hand against her forehead because god, she doesn’t have the patience or the energy for this. Otoya always did know just how to grind her gears.

The thought gives her an idea.

When she finds Otoya, huddled and growling in the far corner of the living room, Shiena feels sick. She’s all done up in her school uniform, her hair tied back in her old signature braids, and her still wet glasses now perched back on her face. She smiles, unsteady, and begins to speak; keeping her voice soft and low as if talking to a frightened animal.

“Hey, hey,” she gulps, “sorry.”

Otoya stiffens, looks at her as if she were an oncoming train, and shakes her head once more.

Desperate, Shiena continues, moving to sit by Takechi’s side. “Hey, c’mon, I’m sorry. But this is for my sake, as well as yours so—” her voice cracks, shakes, wavers. This isn’t working.

Shiena slumps in defeat and rests her forehead against the cool hardwood of their apartment floors, on the verge of tears and seeking relief from this awful headache. “I’m sorry,” she says again. She reaches up to start undoing her braids. “I’m being selfish. I’m being so selfish.”

There’s silence. She loves it, she hates it, she doesn’t really know what she feels anymore.

“Shiena?”

Everything unravels all at once. Her headache dissipates, her heartache doubles, and whatever poor damaged floodgates that had been keeping her from crying all day finally burst and she’s fucking sobbing.

“Otoya?” she calls back, rolling over onto her side. “You know who I am?”

Otoya smiles, she smiles, and launches herself at Shiena’s shaking form, wrapping the girl in her arms and hugging her with all her might. “Shiena!” she hums happily. “Shiena.”

Shiena’s still crying, still completely in shock, still dizzy from how quickly everything came undone. She buries her face into Otoya’s chest and nods. “Y-yeah. Yeah.”

She doesn’t have the willpower to feel upset that Otoya only recognized her because of her accursed uniform. She doesn’t have the willpower to care about the mask. She doesn’t have the willpower to move anymore. Instead, she and Otoya say each other’s names over and over until they both fade into silence.